onkeylike face
and huge eyes.

"A tarsier," Zircon remarked. "Shannon had hoped to collect one."

Rick wondered whether Shannon and Briotti had hiked up this trail. The
headman of the Bagobo village had told Lacson that the Americans had not
been seen by his people. Might they have vanished on this trail?

He wiped his face and neck with a sodden handkerchief and plodded ahead
through the green steam bath. Insects formed a cloud around his head,
flew into his eyes and even into his mouth. He bore it stoically. It was
as bad for the others.

Anyone who walked off the beaten trails would be helplessly lost without
a compass or an experienced guide. A man could wander in the dense
growth until death in some unpleasant form claimed him. One couldn't
even see a trail from more than a few feet away.

Half an hour later, Rick saw that the growth was giving way to a
different kind of jungle forest, as the trail sloped upward. In a short
time they entered a more normal forest of tall, white lauans over a
hundred feet high, with strange roots like flying buttresses.

Soon the forest gave way to open plain, sparsely dotted with papaya
trees and a lone mango. Lacson called that they were almost at their
destination. Rick wiped his face and was grateful. His clothes hung on
him as though he had been caught in a torrential rain. In spite of the
insect repellent, he had been chewed by assorted bugs.

He forgot his discomfort at the sight of the village. Apparently
civilization had reached the Bagobos. The huts were of sawed lumber and
tin roofing material. He saw one roof made from an American gasoline
sign.

In contrast with the drab surroundings, the people were bright spots of
color. They eyed the group with frank curiosity, then followed as Juan
led the way to the headman's hut.

The headman met them with dignified courtesy. Rick saw that the man was
nearly six feet tall, with a lean, hawklike face, the skin stretched
tightly over high cheekbones. He looked like an American Indian, but his
skin was the color of a white man who has spent his life outdoors in the
tropics. The Bagobos clearly were of a different race than the
Filipinos.

"That's quite a man," Scotty whispered.

Rick nodded. He, too, was impressed by the headman, except for one
thing. Although the Bagobo talked freely, through Juan, his eyes never
once met those of any of the party. He looked everywhere but at the
visitors.

It was out of character, Ri