Out of the Frying Pan
The clank of a heavy key in the lock of the door woke Biff the next day.
He started to yawn, and stretched the kinks from his shoulders and legs.
Abruptly he sat up. It could be the “cook!” Biff’s hopes dimmed when the
man entered. Again it was the same old servant, well protected by an
armed guard.
Biff looked at the Ancient One. His face was expressionless. Uncle
Charlie shrugged his shoulders at Biff’s questioning look.
“Don’t let it get you down, Biff. We haven’t lost yet. Maybe at the noon
meal, perhaps we’ll get some word then.”
“Wish Muscles were here. If he were we could overpower the guard and
make a break for it.”
“Muscles—what made you think of Muscles all of a sudden?”
Biff clamped his open hand on his head, his jaw dropped as a thought
struck him.
“I com-plete-ly forgot to tell you. Muscles is _here_, in _China_, in
Jaraminka!”
“Where’d you leave him?” Uncle Charlie decided details could be
explained later.
“Back at a spring, just west of the city. I hope he got my message. I
tried to tell him—he was hiding, but I’m sure he could hear us—that if
we weren’t back in four hours then we’d been led into a trap.” Biff’s
words rushed out in one jumbled sentence.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard yet, Biff. Muscles is a good operator.”
“But what could he do? He’d be spotted in a minute,” Biff said.
“Haven’t got the answer to that one,” Uncle Charlie replied. “But I’d
bet on Muscles in any situation. He bulldogs in where angels fear to
tread.”
The morning hours dragged. As noon approached, Biff became more and more
restless.
“Wish something would happen—anything! I wonder why Ping Lu hasn’t sent
for us?”
“Playing a waiting game, Biff,” his uncle replied. “The longer he keeps
us here with no word, the more tense and nervous we’ll get. He knows
that. Uncertainty, waiting, not knowing what move the enemy will make
next is one of the surest ways of making a man reach his breaking point.
And your being here, he reasons, will make me twice as jittery.”
The hour of noon came and passed. No one came to the prison room. Biff
was wondering how near his breaking point was when, shortly after one
o’clock, the now familiar rasp of a key in the door was heard.
“Make it be the Ancient One’s grandson,” Biff said half aloud. The
others were praying for the same thing.
The door swung inward. Whether the new servant was the grandson, Biff
didn’t know. But it was a different man. He brought a tray of food over
and placed it beside Tao Kwang. Biff thought he saw the man’s lips move,
but he couldn’t be sure. The servant left. The door was locked behind
him. Biff looked at Chuba. “Did he say anything? Ask the Ancient One.”
Chuba spoke softly, rapidly to the old man. The old one’s reply was a
single sentence. Chuba translated:
“Tonight when the clock makes the twelve strikes.”
“That’s all? Didn’t give you any details?”
“That’s all Ancient One tell Chuba. I think that all grandson tell the
Ancient One.”
Never had Biff known a day to pass so slowly. The suspense became
unbearable. Charlie Keene tried to calm Biff down.
“I think you’d be better off if you’d try to rest. Pacing back and forth
isn’t going to make the time go by any quicker. Get Chuba to teach you
the Oriental art of patience.”
“Rest? Who can rest at a time like this?” Biff replied. Then he was
ashamed at the angry tone in his voice. “I’m sorry, Uncle Charlie. I
didn’t mean to—”
“I understand, Biff. But you may need all your strength when midnight
comes. Try stretching out for a little while.”
Biff took his uncle’s advice. His mind was in a turmoil as he lay on the
hard wooden bench, his cupped hands beneath his head serving for a
pillow. Sleep would never come, he told himself. The next thing he knew,
he was being gently shaken. Uncle Charlie was bending over him,
grinning.
“Almost midnight, Biff. Better come alive.”
“Midnight!” Biff sat up in astonishment. He couldn’t believe it. “But
what about supper? Did I sleep right through it?”
“No one brought anything tonight. Don’t know why.” Charles Keene picked
up the kerosene lamp which gave the room its only light, and blew it
out. “If anything is going to happen, it would be better if the guards
thought we were asleep.”
They waited in the darkness. There was no conversation. But the tension
in the room was so strong, it seemed as though you could touch it like a
physical thing. Biff knew he could feel it.
Biff’s hopes went high and low like a playground swing. Suddenly his
ears caught a strange noise. It came from the far end of the corridor
through which Biff and Chuba had been led to Ping Lu.
The noise grew louder. Shouts were heard. Running feet could be heard in
the corridor. Biff sprang to the barred window of the door. He peered
into the dimly lighted hall. The guard was gone. Now the cries became
louder.
“Chuba! Can you make out what’s being said?”
Chuba came to the door. He put his head close to the bars.
“Fire! Much shoutings of fire. Fire in kitchen!”
In the kitchen. Where the grandson served as a cook. This must be it!
Moments passed. Heavy footsteps were heard in the hall. Biff, his uncle,
and Chuba crowded toward the door. Only the Ancient One remained where
he was, seated on the far wall bench. He sat quietly, waiting.
The sound of running feet came nearer. A figure skidded to a stop by
their door. Behind this figure stood what was certainly the biggest
Chinese in all the Orient.
The key turned. The grandson came in. Behind him came the giant. Under
an almost concealing broad-brimmed hat, the “Oriental” was grinning
widely.
“Muscles! How did you get here?” Biff and Charlie shot the question at
their friend in the same breath.
“No time for an answer now. We got to make with the feet. There’s enough
excitement in the kitchen now to cover our escape.”
The grandson was at the side of the Ancient One. He helped him to his
feet.
“Hold it,” Muscles called out. “Let me see if the coast is clear.” He
leaned out the door. “Looks okay—oh-oh—hold it. A guard’s coming along.
I’ll take him.”
And he did. As the guard reached the door, Muscle’s huge arm snaked out.
He grabbed the guard by the collar and lifted him by one hand into the
room. With his other hand, he struck the guard a chopping blow, and the
guard went limp without uttering a sound. Charlie Keene caught him as he
slumped over.
“Stack him in the corner, Charlie. Might be another one coming along.”
Muscles was right. Another guard came trotting down the hall and
received the same treatment.
“Two down—how many to go?” Muscles was enjoying himself.
“More guards coming,” Chuba whispered excitedly.
“Two of them this time,” Muscles said. “Makes a more even match.”
The giant mechanic waited until the two were in the corridor a pace
beyond the door. He jerked the door open, pounced on the two guards, and
in a swooping motion, cracked their heads together. He dragged them into
the room.
“Muscles, look, let’s put these four on the benches. Anybody looking in
will think it’s us sleeping,” Biff suggested in a whisper.
“Smart,” Uncle Charlie agreed, nodding. The unconscious guards were
carefully posed as drowsy prisoners. Chuba had taken a position just
outside the door as this was being done.
“No more guards coming,” he called softly.
The four prisoners left their cell. Muscles motioned to the grandson for
the keys. He turned the lock.
“Don’t know whether you’d call that a fair exchange,” he said, “but it’s
an even one.”
“Come. We must lose no more time.” The grandson took the lead. The
others followed. They passed through the room where Ping Lu had held
court. A door on the other side of the room led to another corridor,
this one narrower and shorter.
“Hope he knows where he’s going,” Biff said.
“He ought to. This used to be his home. He grew up here,” Muscles
replied.
At the end of the corridor, their path was blocked by another door. The
grandson tried it. It wouldn’t yield.
“No keys,” he said.
“Okay then, stand back.” Muscles took six steps away from the door.
Then, with a bull-like charge, he hurtled his powerful body against it.
The door sprang from its hinges, fell flat on the ground outside, with
Muscles sprawling on top of it.
It took only seconds to reach the stone wall. The Ancient One was helped
over. Biff turned as he crossed the wall. One end of the house was
ablaze. Figures could be seen running frantically around, casting weird,
dancing shadows.
As Biff watched, he saw four men leave the light of the blaze and come
on a run to the place in the wall they had just crossed.
“Hurry,” Biff shouted. “They’re after us.”