CHAPTER IX
The Trail to Korse Lenken
Sing Lam-chiong dug heels into the flanks of his mule and trotted backto where Zircon, Scotty, and Rick were jogging along on their respectivemounts.
"Good place to make lunch, in about ten minutes."
"Fine, Sing," Zircon said. "We could use lunch." The scientist lookeddown with distaste at his horse, a big hammerheaded black with the linesof a plow beast. "This creature is about as comfortable as a woodensled."
Rick sympathized. His own nag, a pin-eared Chinese pony of a peculiarmouse-gray color, had no particular gait. He just waddled along, swayingfrom side to side and making his rider saddle sore.
Sing saluted and went back to the head of the column, which was made upof pack mules, each led by a Chinese bearer. There were four of the packanimals, each laden with the party's gear.
"He certainly knows this trail," Scotty commented.
"A good thing," Rick said. "The camping places are few and far between.I wish Korse Lenken were nearer."
The party was ten days out of Hong Kong, high in the mountain rangesthat formed the backbone of south Asia. Since leaving the more civilizedpart of China they had trekked through alternate valleys and mountainpasses, making good time in the valleys, but slowing to a snail's pacein the mountains. Sometimes the trail was wide enough for the three ofthem to ride abreast. Sometimes it clung to the mountainside withscarcely room for a single horse or mule. But Sing, leading the way, hada knack of picking the easiest route.
The Chinese guide was a gift from heaven. The Spindrifters had checkedin at the American Consulate at Chungking, as Bradley had instructedthem, and the consul had offered the loan of one of his own staff. Sing,normally a clerk at the consulate, had been born and brought up in thewestern reaches of outer Sinkiang Province, and he knew the area fromwide travels with his father, a Chinese border police officer. Althoughhe had never been to Korse Lenken, he had been close to it.
In a short while Sing called out in Chinese to the bearers and theyfollowed him into a sort of pocket in the mountainside. Scotty, who wasslightly ahead of Rick and Zircon, turned. "We've got company for lunch.There's another party already here."
In a moment the three Americans were greeting a portly Chinese who roseto greet them.
"Howdy, Mr. Ko," Rick said cordially. "We were wondering when we wouldcatch up with you again."
Worthington Ko smiled and bowed. "We will doubtless meet many timesuntil our paths separate. Please dismount and join me. My bearers have agood cooking fire you are welcome to use."
Ko was a textile merchant they had overtaken on the trail a shortdistance out of Chungking. Since then the two parties had passed andrepassed each other several times. Ko had three mules, in addition tothe one he rode, and two bearers. The mules carried only light packs. Onthe return trip, he had told them, they would be laden with Tibetantextiles. He was heading for the famous monastery of Rangan Lo to buyembroidery from the Buddhist monks. Eventually, the embroidery wouldfind a market in Europe.
The three Spindrifters got down stiffly from their horses and foundseats among the rocks next to the merchant. He smiled sympathetically."You are stiff? These trails are very poor and one must travel them manytimes before one gets used to them." He took off his thick, horn-rimmedglasses and polished them on a scrap of silk. "After twenty years of it,I still find myself bent with weariness at the end of the day."
Sing busied himself with getting food ready. The Spindrift bearersunpacked utensils and their own rations of rice and dried meat.
Ko rose from his rocky seat and rearranged the long, flowing silk coathe wore. "I must be off. With your permission, I will proceed slowly,however, so that you will overtake me before nightfall."
"Of course," Zircon said. "But may I ask why?"
Ko's nearsighted eyes peered at the rifles carried in saddle sheaths oneach of the three horses, and at Sing's shotgun. "I hope to takeadvantage of your weapons," he explained. "By nightfall we should reachLlhan Huang, which is a sort of crossroad. It marks the start of theLenken country. The Lenkens are unlikely to attack a well-armed party ofeight. But they delight in robbing a small party such as mine. For thatreason, I usually manage to find a larger group to which to attachmyself when entering the Llhan region." He smiled. "The armament youcarry for hunting bharals will serve admirably to keep the Lenkens at adistance."
The Spindrift party had been warned that the tribe known as Lenkens weredangerous to travelers.
"We'll be delighted to have you join us," Zircon assured him.
Rick was about to suggest that the portly Chinese merchant wait untilafter the Spindrifters had eaten so they could all travel together, buthe thought better of it. Ko had been cordial, but he had shown littleinterest in the American "hunting" party and Rick thought he probablypreferred to travel at his own speed and in his own way.
Sing called that lunch was ready and they took mess kits to the fire andloaded them up with rice covered with a savory sauce, canned beef, andhot, crisp water chestnuts. As Rick sighed with gratitude over the firsttasty mouthful, Scotty looked at the vanishing Ko party and mused,"Wonder how come he speaks English so perfectly?"
Sing overheard. He grinned. "No reason for surprise. Many Chinese areeducated in American and English colleges both in China and in othercountries. Like myself. I am a graduate of Oberlin."
"Guess that's right," Scotty admitted.
"Worthington is a rather strange name for a Chinese, Sing," Rickremarked.
The guide nodded. "It is. But I don't think it is his real one. ManyChinese take western first names, especially those who trade withwesterners. That is because our own names are often too hard to say orremember."
"Have you ever met Ko before?" Zircon asked. "Since you've traveledwidely in this region, I thought you might have come across him before."
"I don't think so," Sing replied. "But this is a very big country andthere are many travelers like him."
Sing was certainly right in saying that there were many travelers,although the merchants like Ko were a minority. There were families ofTibetans walking along the trail, laden with their possessions, headingfor goodness knew where. There were groups of horsemen, dressed in thequilted clothes of the mountain country and with peaked felt hats. Suchmen usually were armed with old-fashioned muskets and carried forkedrests in which to lay the musket barrels for support while firing. Therewere parties of Chinese, sometimes on foot and sometimes with trains ofmules or yaks, the oxlike Tibetan beasts of burden.
Frequently, especially in valley country, small villages lay near thetrail. Often there were herders with their large flocks of sheep.
Although the trail slanted up and down, from valley to mountain pass andback down again, the way led constantly higher toward the white-cappedpeaks that have been called "The Backbone of the World." Beyond them,many hundreds of miles away, lay Nepal and India.
It was always cool now, and the Americans and Sing wore windbreakers andwoolen sweaters. The bearers donned padded long coats. At night, thesleeping bags were comfortable; without them the Americans would havebeen chilled through and through.
"Make a guess, Sing," Rick requested. "How many more days to KorseLenken?"
Sing counted on his fingers. "With fortune, maybe we'll get there lateday after tomorrow. Depends on the trails."
Zircon sipped steaming tea standing up. He was too saddle sore to sitdown. "Where do we camp tonight?"
"A mile or two past Llhan Huang. I know a good water supply there."
The bearers were standing around waiting patiently, already finishedwith cleaning up and packing, except for the Americans' teacups. Theydowned the last swallows of tea and handed the cups to Sing, then swunginto the saddle again.
"I hope Sing is right about getting there day after tomorrow," Rick saidas he shifted uncomfortably in the "chafing seat," as he called it."This hay-burner is no luxury liner."
"Ditto," Scotty agreed. "Besides, I'm anxious to see Chahda."
/> Hobart Zircon nodded. "I hope whatever we find is worth the discomfortof this trip." He grinned. "At any rate, it's a new experience for allof us."
"I don't think I'll thank Bradley for it, though," Rick added. "Well,let's get moving."
He dug his heels into the pony's flanks and moved into position behindSing. Scotty and Zircon fell back to bring up the rear. Although theywere reasonably sure no one would attack them, Zircon felt it was bestto have a rear guard and they had taken turns at the end of the column.
In spite of saddle soreness, Rick looked at the view with appreciationas the trail suddenly topped a rise. Far below spread a lush valley.Beyond were the last peaks they would have to cross before they came toKorse Lenken.
The Caves of Fear: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story Page 9