The Goatskin Water Bag
Several things happened almost at the same time. The attackers awoke to
the fact that Rick's light made a good target and started shooting. Rick
dropped the flashlight as his rifle, swung with one hand, barrel
forward, connected solidly with the top of Ko's head. Scotty jumped to
see what was happening.
The grenade rolled from Ko's hand, and as it did, the safety handle flew
off! Ko already had pulled the pin!
A musket slug cracked into the rock inches from Rick's face and sent
chips of stone into his face. He felt a sudden pain above one eye. But
before he had time to realize what had happened, he was hauled back
bodily into the crater by the guide.
Scotty, who had recognized Ko in the beam of the fallen flashlight,
grabbed the merchant by the collar and dragged him into the saucer with
them.
There was a five-second fuse on the grenade, but things had happened so
fast there was a second to spare before it went off. Then for an instant
there was a dull flash and the _cruuuump_ of the grenade. Shrapnel
sliced through the woods below, bringing yells of fright.
"The camera," Rick gasped. He got to his hands and knees, shaking his
head. There was wetness across one eye that he thought was blood.
Scotty got his meaning instantly. He snapped, "Sing. Keep an eye on Ko,"
and ran to the pack animals. It took him only a moment to find the
camera and lift it from its case, then he handed Zircon the special
glasses and quickly fitted his infrared telescopic sight onto his own
rifle.
Rick got to his feet, keeping the injured eye closed, and fumbled
through the gear until he found his tripod. He set it up quickly and
mounted the camera on it. Then he carried the unit to the edge of the
saucer and pushed the button that lit up the infrared light. He couldn't
see to shoot, but he could operate the camera unit. Through the special
glasses, Zircon would be able to see anything the infrared beam hit.
Scotty would be able to see, too, through his special telescopic rifle
sight. Rick panned the light across the woods below. It wasn't light
that could be seen, of course. Only the dull glow of the filament, too
dim to be seen more than a few feet away, told him that the camera was
operating.
"I see one," Zircon bellowed suddenly, and the words were echoed by the
dull, authoritative slap of the .45-90. The heavy slug drove through the
brush below. "Missed," the scientist said in disgust.
Scotty's rifle cracked sharply. Scotty didn't miss. There was a yell
from below, then the noise of many men running through the underbrush.
Rick guessed that the attackers didn't like the weird sharpshooting in
the darkness.
In a few moments there was quiet, and the infrared light found nothing
but the silent woods. Sing, who had been crouching over Ko, ready frying
pan in hand, said, "They've gone, I think. These hill people don't like
night fights, anyway."
"That's my guess, too," Scotty agreed.
Zircon found his own flashlight, and, ducking low, shot it over the
saucer's edge. He waited long moments, but nothing happened. Had the men
who attacked them still been in the woods below, they certainly would
have fired at the tempting target.
"Bring that light here, will you, professor?" Rick called. "Something
hit me in the eye awhile back." He tried to keep the concern out of his
voice. Had he been blinded in that eye?
Scotty and the professor hurried to him in some concern. Zircon shot the
light into his face and he blinked with his good eye.
"Good heavens," Zircon said softly. Then, on closer examination, he
sighed with relief. "A scratch, just below the eyebrow. The eye itself
isn't damaged. Scotty, find the first-aid kit, please? We'll have this
cleaned up in a jiffy."
While Scotty held the light, Zircon cleaned the wound and washed the
blood from Rick's eye. Then, in the midst of the operation, there was a
metallic clang from where Sing stood guard.
Scotty flashed the light over in time for them to see Worthington Ko
stretch limply on the ground. Sing's smile flashed. "He was waking up. I
didn't want to bother you, so I made him sleep some more."
Rick had to chuckle. Their efficient guide had bashed Ko with his frying
pan.
Zircon completed giving Rick first aid. "That's clotting nicely, Rick."
He cut a tiny piece of sterile gauze and affixed it with a bit of tape.
"There you are. Good as new by morning. I suspect that a chip of stone
must have struck you."
Rick tested the action of his eyelid on that side. The gauze felt ten
times as big as it actually was, but it was all right. "Thanks,
professor," he said. "Now, let's take a look at our captive."
Worthington Ko's slumber, induced by Sing's mighty frying pan, was not
very deep. A cupful of water in the face brought him around readily
enough and he peered up at the Americans. He had lost his glasses in the
shuffle, and without them there was no doubt that he had one glass eye.
He peered balefully from the good one.
"What," he demanded, "is the meaning of this?"
"We might ask the same," Zircon stated, "except that we can assume that
you sponsored the attack on us. What we want to know is, why?"
Ko snorted indignantly. "Nonsense! I was coming to your aid, having made
my way through that mob of Tibetan bandits." He rubbed his head. "And
then someone struck me."
"Were you going to use that grenade as a calling card?" Rick asked
caustically.
Ko opened his mouth to speak, but Rick continued, "Don't try to tell us
you were going to use it in our defense. Men don't pull the pins on
grenades until they're ready to toss them. That one had our name on it."
Ko shrugged. "I see you've convinced yourselves. It's useless for me to
say anything further." He shut his mouth obstinately, nor could they get
anything further out of him.
Zircon motioned to Sing. "Tie him up. Then post guards. We'll stay here
for the night." He turned to the boys. "I think it's safe to make a
fire. We can have some supper and then turn in. I'll take first watch
with one of the bearers. Scotty will take the second, Rick the third,
and Sing the last." He opened the chamber of his rifle and extracted the
shell, then put the rifle down. "I'm hungry," he said, grinning.
"Nothing like a good fight to work up an appetite."
Scotty laughed. "You talk like a Marine," he said admiringly.
The night passed without incident, and the entire party was awake at
dawn. Over breakfast, they discussed the affair again. Like the
discussion of the night before, it proved futile. There were simply too
many questions that had no answers.
Rick summed it up. "We've found Long Shadow and the Chinese with the
glass eye. Or rather they've found us. And it's obvious they're out for
blood. It scares me to think of what would have happened on the junk if
the Englishman and Bradley hadn't taken a hand."
"I'd like to know how they knew we were coming," Scotty said.
Zircon drained the last of his coffee. "I don't think they did know. We
walked into Canton Charlie's and asked for Chahda. We put the finger on
ourselves, so to speak. They probably assumed that anyone asking for
Chahda was an enemy. Obviously, they had some sort of contact with
Chahda, otherwise he wouldn't have cabled the descriptions after stating
that he was in danger."
"That sounds right," Rick agreed. He looked over to where Worthington Ko
was having a cup of tea under the watchful eye of Sing. "What do we do
with our fat chum?"
"Keep him for a hostage," Scotty suggested.
Zircon shook his head. "A good idea, but not practical. It would require
that we guard him constantly and that would be a nuisance. No, I think
we had better leave him and push on for Korse Lenken as rapidly as
possible. Now that we know our danger is from Chahda's enemies and not
from casual bandits, we are forewarned."
"Then what do we do with him?" Rick asked.
"Leave him here, afoot. His friends probably will find him, but I don't
think that matters. Now that we know him, he's less dangerous. We can
treat him like any other bandit."
Rick and Scotty agreed. As they drew nearer the goal, both of them were
increasingly anxious to get to Chahda, to hear from him some of the
answers to their questions, and finally to get down to the business of
finding the heavy water that was the reason for their quest.
Although they hadn't discussed it, Rick was worried about Chahda.
Normally, he had full confidence in the Hindu boy's ability to take care
of himself. But this time Chahda was far from the kind of people he
knew, among unfriendly strangers. Was his friend hiding somewhere in the
mountains around Korse Lenken? Or had he found a hide-out in the village
itself?
They would soon know.
After breakfast, Rick, Scotty, and Sing surveyed the scene of the
ambush, leaving Zircon to guard the Chinese and to direct the repacking
of their gear.
There were definite signs of the enemy's presence in the woods below.
One area was pretty well trampled, indicating to Scotty's trained eye
that the ambushers had departed in a big hurry. The Chinese guide
pointed to where ants were swarming around a section of ground.
"Someone was hit there," he said. "Ants find bloodstains fast in this
country."
"We were aiming low," Scotty said. "Probably a leg wound. Sing, where do
you suppose Ko's mules are?"
The guide shrugged. "Pretty sure to be far away. The men who attacked us
wouldn't leave mules behind. They're too valuable."
Scotty led the way down the trail to where the first shots had been
fired. The three moved cautiously, just in case the attackers were
waiting a little distance away. Scotty's rifle was ready for instant
use.
"I was right here," Sing said. "Ko's mules were ahead of me, just a few
yards away. Let's go ahead some and take a look."
The trail wound through the woods for a little distance and then broke
into a clearing. Rick saw gear littered over the ground and pointed to
it. "Looks as if they left something behind!"
In a moment they were looking through what was evidently Ko's entire
luggage. Sing kicked at a pile of cooking utensils. "They took the mules
but left everything else."
"Funny they'd do that," Rick said thoughtfully. "After all, Ko was the
boss. He must have arranged the ambush. Unless we're wrong about him."
"I don't think we're wrong," Scotty denied. "You hit it on the nose when
you said a man doesn't pull the pin on a grenade unless he's ready to
toss it. Ko must be the boss."
Sing examined a richly embroidered robe. "My guess is that Ko hired a
few Tibetan bandits. They wouldn't worry about him or his belongings
after being met by heavy resistance. And his bearers would be afraid to
stay and face him. Or maybe they thought he was killed while attacking
us. There was a lot of noise, and it was dark."
Rick thought Sing was probably right. He walked over to a pile of furs.
"What are these?" he asked. "Ko must have been a fur trader."
Sing looked up. "Water bags. Goatskin. Very common in China." He dropped
the robe and came to look, his face wrinkling into a frown. "But usually
a man doesn't carry so many. Very funny."
Rick and Scotty examined one with interest. It was a whole skin, except
for head and feet. Even the tail was still attached. The ends of the
legs had been sewed up, but the neck was left open. Attached to the neck
opening was a rawhide thong that could be used to bind the opening tight
when the skin was filled with water.
"These are good bags," Sing said. "Better than most."
"Perhaps he planned to sell them," Rick suggested.
"Don't think so." The Chinese guide shook his head. "People here make
their own. Every time they kill a goat for meat, that's a new goatskin.
The Buddhist Tibetans, who don't kill anything, even flies, use pottery
jugs."
Scotty had started counting the bags. He paused at the ninth and held it
up. "This one is split open. Looks like the seam gave way. There's a
sort of funny lining."
Rick took the skin and turned it inside out. It was smooth and glassy on
the inside, and the substance was completely transparent because he
could see the skin underneath.
Sing felt of it. "Never saw anything like that before."
Rick held it to his nose and sniffed. It was odorless. He took his
pocketknife and scraped at it while the others watched. A tiny flake
shaved off. He tested it between his fingers, and it was flexible as
rubber. An idea was growing in his head.
"It's crazy," he said. "But you know what I think this is? I think it's
plastic!"
"The professor can tell us," Scotty suggested. "Come on. Let's take it
to him."
They ran back up the trail, Rick leading with the skin. If the stuff
were plastic, it could mean only one thing. He lengthened his stride.
Zircon looked up from his notebook as they topped the hill and ran
toward him. He dropped the book and jumped to his feet, reaching for his
rifle.
"It's not another ambush," Rick panted. He held out the skin. "It's
this. Professor, what is this transparent stuff inside?"
Zircon took the skin and ran his finger tips over the lining. He held it
up so that it caught the light, then looked at Rick curiously. "That's
odd," he muttered. "This is certainly a goatskin. And almost surely,
this is a plastic lining. I can't be sure, of course, but I've never
seen anything like this in nature."
"It's a goatskin water bag," Rick said excitedly. He pointed to Ko. "He
had a dozen of them."
Zircon bellowed, "So! Then if this is plastic...."
"It was a clever stunt," Rick finished. "No one would suspect coolies
toting goatskin water bags. And even if anyone did suspect, he wouldn't
be able to tell anything by a casual examination."
Sing scratched his head. "Forgive my stupidity," he said. "The
suspicious one wouldn't be able to tell what? If this lining is plastic,
it is a senseless waste. Water keeps cool in a goatskin bag because of
evaporation through the pores. It certainly couldn't evaporate through
plastic."
"No," Zircon agreed. "That is the idea. They don't want evaporation.
Also, the plastic guarantees the water's purity."
Sing said no more, but he was obviously puzzled. Nor could the Americans
tell him what had excited them, that they had found the means by which
the substance they sought was carried to the coast.
Rick had a quick vision of Chinese coolies making their slow way through
the countryside, unnoticed because water-bearers were so commonplace.
But the coolies in this case carried bags lined with plastic, and the
stuff that made the legs thrust out stiffly and that swelled the bag was
not ordinary water! It was the stuff which had brought them halfway
across the world.