ermined
the attacks would be, particularly if the pirates saw a chance of taking
over the MTB.

Scotty saw what Rick had in mind. "You mean we have to convince them
we're no longer fast?"

"That's it. There must be pirate spies here in Jolo. Why not plant a
story that one engine is bad?"

"Very good!" Zircon exclaimed. "We could do it by trying, very publicly,
to get some engine part. Which one, Scotty? It has to be one we won't be
able to get."

Scotty thought it over while the others watched him anxiously, then
suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Got it. A new timing gear. I'll be
surprised if there's one nearer than Manila. I can juggle the spark, so
the engine sounds as though the timing were off. That will make it more
convincing."

Zircon rose. "We'll do it. Chahda, you've seen the town. Can you stand
by while the rest of us make a quick trip? We must see the constabulary,
and I have a purchase to make."

"Gladly do," Chahda assented. "First I go and get suitcase. This time I
stay with you until we find our friends."

The Hindu boy got his luggage and a paper-wrapped package from the dock
guard's hut. Rick and the others left him to guard the _Swift Arrow_.

The main street of Jolo started only a few hundred feet from the dock
area. Wooden stores and houses predominated, but there were a few of
ancient stone. The people were almost entirely Moro, with only a
sprinkling of Christian Filipinos. They saw no other Americans, although
a few lived in the town.

"Wish we had more time here," Zircon remarked. "After all, Jolo is the
seat of Islam in this part of the world."

"Of what?" Scotty asked.

"Islam is the proper name for the religion we called Mohammedanism.
Moros are Moslems. The name is from the old Spanish for Moor. This
island--my guidebook says--is the home of the Sultan of Sulu, the
spiritual head of Islam in the Philippines."

Rick noted a strange pair of men making their way down the street. Their
skins were brown, but their bushy hair was an odd orange red. They
walked with knees bent sharply, as though on the verge of sitting down.
Their legs were spindly, the knees prominent.

"Bajaus," Zircon said. "Sea gypsies. I recognize them from my talks with
Tony. He was interested in studying them. They spend their entire lives
in vintas, usually in a squatting position. That's the reason for the
odd posture. They have trouble standing upright. Their hair is that
color because sun and salt have