The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story. Goodwin Harold Leland
whistled. "They must have a god for nearly everything they say or do."
"Just about," Dr. Okola agreed. "Even their universe is divided into five regions. There is the known earth, pugao; the sky world, kabunian; the region downriver, lagod; the region upriver, daiya; and the underworld, dalun."
"What river?" Rick asked.
"Any river on which they happen to live," Okola answered. "No one knows exactly what the original river of the Ifugaos might have been. You see, they are immigrants. They came from the Chinese mainland, but we don't know exactly when, or whether their original home was China. Perhaps we will find out that it was Cambodia. We do know that their miraculous rice terraces were started at least two thousand years ago."
"That makes them almost as old as the pyramids!" Scotty exclaimed.
"Quite right. The whole culture is quite astonishing. We think of them as primitive people, but their history is more complex than our own. However, we are speaking of heads. Heads have always been of the greatest religious importance to the Ifugaos. They have been head-hunters for religious and economic reasons for centuries. First America, and then the Republic of the Philippines tried to stamp out the custom. In general, we have succeeded. There is little or no head-hunting now – so far as we know."
Lazada grunted. "The mountains are difficult to police. I doubt that we know all that goes on. I wouldn't be surprised if a head wasn't taken now and then. After all, the Ifugaos got the heads of two American professors only a few years ago."
"The murders were for religious reasons," Okola explained. "Sacrifices were needed for the rice crop. The unfortunate professors were on a hiking trip, and they happened along at just the wrong moment."
Rick remembered newspaper reports of the incident. It had attracted world-wide attention. The Ifugao natives responsible had been captured by the Philippine constabulary, tried, and punished.
Okola continued, "We have traced back a thread through the complicated maze of Ifugao myths. The thread leads to a legendary hero – the leader-god who led the Ifugaos to the Philippines. The golden skull was originally his own, turned to gold by the very power of the hero's magic. After his death, of course. At first it was an ordinary skull, then it turned to gold."
"Then the skull has something to do with head-hunting?" Rick asked.
"Indeed it does. It is apparently the chief object to which heads are sacrificed – or was, before it was lost. The golden skull is almaduan, the very soul stuff of the Ifugaos."
"How was it lost?" Scotty inquired.
"In a war," Okola said, quite seriously, "between the kabunian, the gods of the sky world, and the dalun, the gods of the underworld. The dalun won. They took the head and disappeared into the ground somewhere in Banaue. Behind them, they left a great taboo. If an Ifugao tries to follow them into the underworld to reclaim the skull, great misfortune will come. An earthquake will destroy the terraces. The people will starve. They will be haunted by the dodingerot– ghouls who dwell in tombs and bite the faces of intruders."
"Then the Ifugaos will take a dim view of our hunting their golden skull," Rick guessed.
"They might if they knew about it," Dr. Okola said. "Actually, what I have just told you is almost forgotten lore. I doubt that the Ifugao man in the street – or, properly, man in the rice terraces – has ever heard of it. A few old priests may remember."
Irineo Lazada clapped his hands and rose. "Coffee in the living room, gentlemen. You know, I begin to have some hope for this golden skull. I had not really taken your expedition seriously until Dr. Okola's recital."
Tony Briotti picked him up quickly. "Then that is why you have failed to issue our permit?"
Rick stopped in his tracks. Was there trouble about their permit? He had wondered about the reason for this dinner with the Assistant Secretary of the Interior. Perhaps it was to persuade him.
Lazada smiled. "The government doesn't want to stir up trouble among the mountain tribes. We do not have enough constabulary for police duty in the mountains. A small detachment at Baguio is the best we can do."
"I assure you that we will not stir up trouble," Tony Briotti said.
"Of course not. And so I will issue your permit."
"Thank you, Mr. Secretary," Dr. Okola said. "This will mean a great deal to the Philippines. Dr. Briotti assures me that Spindrift will not ask for anything to be removed from the islands. The golden skull, if it is found, will remain right here, perhaps at the university's museum."
"Such a treasure would need to be well guarded," Lazada chuckled. "We do have thieves in the Philippines, as does every other country." Again he seemed to be licking his lips without actually doing so.
Over a second cup of coffee they laid their plans. Lazada would instruct the district road commissioner at Bontoc to co-operate with them in every way, since that official came under his jurisdiction. Through the district commissioner they could hire any laborers they might need. The commissioner also would arrange for Rick's plane to land on the highway at Bontoc when necessary. Since there was little traffic, landing would present no real problems. They could use the district office at Bontoc, and make it their headquarters.
Dr. Okola sighed, "I can't tell you how sorry I am that you come in the midst of a school seminar. If you are still searching at the end of next week, I will join you. But until then, it will be impossible."
"But you will send us a good guide who knows the area," Tony reminded him.
"Yes. He will be at your hotel in the morning. His name is Angel Manotok, and you can trust him with no hesitation. He speaks Igorot and Ifugao, as well as the Filipino dialects of this region. He can drive a truck, and he can cook reasonably well." Okola pronounced the man's name in the Spanish way, "Ahng-hel."
"Sounds like a handy guy to have around," Scotty remarked.
"Yes," Rick agreed. "Besides, it's nice to have an angel in the party."
The hour was late. The boys and Tony Briotti bade good night to Lazada and Okola, refused the offer of another coke but accepted a ride back to the hotel in Lazada's car. As they left the house the boys looked for Chahda. There was a Sikh at the gate, but he was a big man. Chahda was not in sight.
Lazada's car turned out to be a brand-new Cadillac with a special maroon paint job and a monogram about four inches square on every door. Evidently the Assistant Secretary believed in personal advertising.
They were tired. The ride back to the Manila Hotel was made in silence, except for a brief report to Tony that all was in readiness for the trip to Baguio on the first leg of their journey.
At the hotel desk they picked up their room keys. The boys had one room, Tony another. The rooms were on the second floor, so they walked upstairs instead of bothering with the slow elevators.
"Good night, boys," Tony said wearily. He inserted his key and swung the door open, then stiffened as a crash sounded in the room. Rick and Scotty snapped out of their weary haziness and leaped into the room behind Tony in time to see a figure dive headlong from the window.
Rick yelled in horror. They rushed to the window, expecting to see the man dead on the ground below. Instead, they saw him swing lightly from the branch of a flame tree and drop to the ground. He ran across Dewey Boulevard and was lost in the darkness under the walls of Intramuros.
CHAPTER IV
Inside the Walls
"The fire escape!" Scotty yelled.
Rick was with him on the instant. They ran to the end of the corridor, threw open the door, and dashed down the fire escape. No word passed between them as they crossed Dewey Boulevard. At a time like this their teamwork was automatic.
They reached the walls of Intramuros, and Scotty went left, Rick right. Somewhere along the walls, or within the city, was the intruder. The question was, Had the intruder kept right on going across the walled city, or was he in hiding, waiting to see whether or not he was being pursued? If the former, their chances of catching up