stream of sweat dripping down
Rick's back. The barking continued, drew nearer. Rick half drew his
kris, but Chahda whispered hoarsely, "Wait!"

A mongrel of indiscriminate breed sidled up to them, hackles raised,
teeth gleaming faintly in a snarl. Chahda bent low and murmured. The dog
leaped frantically, and Rick's heart caught in his throat. Then the
Hindu boy miraculously was petting the vicious mutt.

"What did you do?" Rick demanded in a whisper.

"You remember canned hombargers? I open can and put some in my pocket.
Feed one to dog. He our friend now. Come on."

Rick had to grin. The mysterious Hindu! Behind the mystery was a
practical solution to problems. Just stick a couple of "hombargers" in
the pocket.

The boy led the way again, Chahda hurrying to catch up. Beside them, the
once-fierce dog gamboled like a puppy, hoping for another handout.

In a few moments Rick saw that the two streets of the town formed a huge
T, with the stem starting under the mountain and running toward the
west. He had an idea that Tony and Shannon would be near the center of
the village, in the most protected position--simply because it would be
easier to guard them that way. That meant they would be close to the
intersection where he and Chahda now stood.

A poke in the ribs from Chahda took his mind off the problem in a hurry,
and put it on a new and immediate one. A man was walking directly
toward them, coming from the direction of the western shore. Rick
couldn't see him clearly; it was too dark in the village. But he could
see enough to know that the pirate carried a rifle and had a barong
tucked into his belt.

Rick's hand started for the pistol, then paused. He couldn't shoot now.
It would bring the whole village down on them. For a moment he nearly
panicked, then with a nod to Chahda he walked directly toward the man.
The bold approach was the best one, he figured. To run was to bring a
shot. He had a vague idea of getting within range, then jumping the
Moro. Certainly they couldn't stop and talk with him; neither of them
knew the language.

The pirate didn't seem uncertain, or alarmed. He walked toward the two
boys casually, obviously not yet recognizing them as strangers. He would
soon, Rick knew. It was important to get the jump on the Moro first, and
prevent him yelling, if possible.

Then, as Rick prepared for a wild spring and a roundhouse punch, Chahda
whispered, "Be ready," and lifted his hand in salute. The