  Biff shot a quick look at Chuba. He wanted to see his friend’s reaction to the startling appearance of these men who looked as if they had sprung from the age of primitive man. Good? Bad? Chuba would know. Chuba’s eyes roved over the group. He turned his head quickly from man to man, turning around to complete the circle. A frown on the native boy’s face gave Biff his answer. Chuba was worried. “Man, oh, man! Did you ever see anything like that bunch?” Muscles asked. “They’re from way out of nowhere.” There was every reason for Muscles to be amazed. The men were small but squat and powerfully built. Their eyes were slanted in broad, dirty faces, the color of stained copper. Wide, cruel mouths turned down on either side. Scraggly strands of wiry hair sprouted from ragged caps made of mangy fur. Their legs were wrapped in rags. Coats, if they could be called coats, were made of skins of wild animals, mountain goats, deer. One of the men wore the skin of the Himalayan black bear. They stood in silence, their small, beady eyes watching for any move on the part of Muscles and the boys. Two of the men held short, thick clubs in their hands. Another held a long stick. Biff noticed that on the end a wicked knife had been attached by thongs. Others held long, gleaming curved knives in their hands. Only one man carried a gun, a short, two barreled shotgun. It was an old gun. Someone had sawed off the barrel. It could deal out body-ripping shots at short range. “Who are they, Chuba?” Biff asked. “You mean what are they?” Muscles cut in. “Bandits. Chinese bandits,” Chuba replied. “They bad. Very bad.” “They’re not soldiers, then. Not members of any patrol?” Chuba shook his head. “No. Much worse. These people roam the hills and mountains. They steal, kill. They like wild men. Sometimes come into town, but most times, live like tribe, sleep in caves, eat anything they can kill.” “What do they want with us?” Biff asked. “Rob us. Maybe kill us if we try to fight.” “Huh. Some chance,” Muscles cut in again. “Why, I can take on that whole gang single-handed.” Muscles towered over the bandits. He was bigger, and weighed more than any two of the bandits together. “Not so sure, Muscles,” Chuba said quietly. “These men fight and kill bears, tigers. Only use their knives.” “Only guy that worries me is that one with the sawed-off shotgun,” Muscles decided. “Why don’t they say something, Chuba? What are they waiting for?” Biff asked. Chuba shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t they talk? Can you understand their language?” “They talk, sure. But be hard for Chuba to understand them. They speak what you call tribe dialect. Some Chinese words. Some words only they know.” “Can they understand you?” “Sure. They understand most Chinese talk. Not all words. But enough.” “Ask them what they want.” Chuba swallowed. He directed a rapid string of Chinese words at the man carrying the gun. The gun carrier grunted and spoke in a deep, guttural voice to the man beside him. “Did you get that, Chuba?” Chuba shook his head. The gun carrier took one step forward. He looked Muscles carefully up and down. Next his eyes swept over Biff. Then he spoke, turning his eyes on Chuba. He spoke slowly. Sometimes moments of silence would appear between his spaced words. “He says they want all things we have. Gun man speaker says he wants clothes of the giant man.” “My clothes! Fat chance,” Muscles snarled. The bandit spoke again. “He says open up bundles. He wants to see what we have.” Biff knelt down. His and Chuba’s bulky bundles were together. Biff started untying the nearest one, which happened to be Chuba’s. “If we give them our things, will they let us alone?” Biff asked. “Chuba can’t say. Maybe so so. Maybe no. Maybe they give us this.” Chuba brought his hand swiftly across his throat. Biff felt a sickening sensation in his stomach. Feeling around in Chuba’s bundle, Biff’s hand struck an oblong object. It felt like a box. Biff carefully lifted the cloth from which the bundle was made. He raised it so that the bandits would be unable to see what the box was. If the situation hadn’t been such a dangerous one, Biff would have laughed. Chuba had brought with him his Evil Spirit Box—the one Muscles had frightened Chuba with the first morning Biff was in camp. Touching the box, an idea came into Biff’s head. “Chuba, quick! Tell me more about these bandits. Are they superstitious? I mean, frightened by strange things, things they’ve never seen before?” “Much afraid. Big fear of spirits.” Biff nodded his head. “I’ve got an idea. Think we could scare them with your Evil Spirit Box?” Excitement danced in Chuba’s eyes. “They be scared like crazy. More scared than Chuba was.” “Okay. We’ll try it. Now you tell them something like this. Tell them we are protected by magic of the gods. The evil spirit will put its hand on them unless they let us go. They are not to bother us. Make it good. Bow down and stuff like that. Look to the sky and make like you’re calling the spirit.” “Chuba catch wise. Make big show.” “Okay. Now, at some point when you’re putting on your act, when the bandits are all looking at you, I’ll yell ‘Fly!’ When I do, I’ll toss your spirit box into the air. You swing around and catch it. I’ll have it started. You hold it up high when the siren’s going. Then place it on the ground and jump back when the hand comes out. Tell them that’s the hand of the evil spirit, reaching out to touch them.” Chuba was grinning now. Muscles stood there, hands on hips, shaking his head. Chuba turned back to the bandit leader. He hunched up his shoulders. He twisted his face into an ugly leer. Then he began speaking. He spoke at first in a sing-song voice. He spoke faster and faster, raising his voice higher. He dropped down and touched the ground three times with his head. Up he leaped, extending his arms skyward. Chuba was putting on a good show. Biff watched the faces of the bandits closely. There was no expression, yet their eyes followed every movement Chuba made. Biff took the spirit box out. No one saw him. Even Muscles was fascinated by Chuba’s writhing, his sing-song chanting. Biff touched the button activating the box. “Fly!” he called out. He tossed the box in the air, high enough so that as it came down over Chuba’s head, it almost appeared to be falling from the sky. Chuba caught the box deftly. Again he spoke to the bandits. He raised the box high over his head, just as the first faint whine of the siren began. The siren’s scream rose higher and higher. Quickly Chuba placed the box on the ground and stepped back. The lid of the box slowly opened. Biff looked again at the bandits. The faces without expression now looked curious, then terrified. The lid of the box raised. The plastic hand snaked out. Stark terror now seized the bandits. They cringed back. One of them, unable to stand it any longer, turned, broke, and ran. He was followed by another and another. Only the leader remained, staring at the spirit box as if spellbound. Muscles went into action. He dived for the box. He snatched it from the ground, turned, and with the box extended in his outstretched hands, he moved toward the bandit chief. This was too much. With a horrified shriek, the bandit chief turned and raced down the slope after his companions. All were running as if they were really pursued by demons. Muscles quickly reset the box, so that the scream of the siren, rising to its highest pitch, seemed to be following close to the bandits’ ears. Muscles put the box back on the ground. He slapped his huge thighs, threw back his head, and roared with laughter. Biff and Chuba joined him. All three laughed until they sank to the ground, their voices shaking as they tried to talk. Finally, Muscles heaved his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Ever see anything like that? Those guys were really scared. Took off like jet fighters. When I think that I sent to the States for that fool toy to scare Chuba, well....” “Never knew it was going to save your life, did you? Still think twenty dollars was too much for it?” Biff said, trying to control his laughter. “I level with you now, Muscles. I real scared first time I see spirit box,” Chuba confessed. “But those guys! They really did think the Evil Spirit was going to put the hand on them,” Muscles said. “Here’s one time I’m glad you can’t tell good from evil,” Biff said. “Think they’ll come back, Chuba?” Muscles asked. “Never. They really gone. Give us the big go-round now. Not ever want to see us and box again.” “The spirit really moved them, eh, Biff?” Muscles said. Biff laughed, but Muscles’ joke was over Chuba’s head. It was almost broad daylight now. The sun was rising. Biff stood up. “We’d better get going. Maybe we can reach Jaraminka by nightfall.” “Okay by me,” Muscles agreed. “Let’s make with the feet, Chuba.” Biff looked northward. Nestled somewhere in the foothills of the Thanglung mountains was the outpost of Jaraminka. Uncle Charlie might be there. He might be the bait being used to bring Biff and his companions into a trap. It was a risk they would have to take. |
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