It sounded fine. Angel spoke up. "I'd rather be in the first jeep, in case we meet Nangolat."
Scotty shook his head. "Not tonight. Your turn will come later, Angel. The first thing is to get the truck back. Pilipil, will you be all right here until we get back?"
They loaded into the jeeps while Pilipil and Balaban moved into a clump of brush and prepared to wait.
"Don't bother about silence," Scotty said. "We'll just hit and run. If they hear us coming it won't matter, because they won't be sure what we're after."
"How about those Ifugao natives from the village?" Tony asked. "They're probably swarming over the road like flies."
"We not go near them," Chahda replied. "The truck is a different way. Come on, load rifles. We go."
Rick was driving the lead jeep, Chahda on the seat next to him. Tony and Dog Meat were in the rear seat. Scotty was with Angel in the other jeep. The road was reasonably good, although narrow and winding. Rick roared down into the valley as fast as prudence and Newton's laws of motion allowed. Had he gone any faster the jeep would have tipped over on some unexpected corner.
Rick kept a sharp watch ahead. The yellow cones of light seemed lost in the vast darkness of Banaue. There were no other lights.
"Watch for fork in road, go left," Chahda relayed Dog Meat's instructions.
The fork appeared. Rick swung left--and almost bashed into the truck. It was parked with lights out, close to a village.
Both jeeps slid to a stop. Scotty and Chahda jumped out, rifles ready, and ran to the truck. "The keys!" Rick yelled. "Are they in it?"
"Don't need keys!" Scotty yelled back. "Turn around, quick!"
Angel was already turning his jeep. Rick followed suit, and his headlights swung in an arc across the Ifugao village and reflected from spear tips. The natives here had been alerted!
The truck roared into life. Rick pulled to one side and motioned Scotty by. Then, as the truck went past, Rick triggered off a half-dozen shots, aiming high. Tony did the same with the shotgun, sending loads of bird shot whistling through the red leaves of the dangla bushes.
A screaming madman leaped at them, spear extended. It was Nangolat, face distorted with hatred and fury. He thrust at Tony, but the archaeologist knocked the spear aside. Then, as Nangolat's thrust carried him close, Tony let loose a roundhouse that caught the Ifugao squarely on the jaw, whirled him sideways, and dropped him like a log in the dust of the road. Then Rick let out the clutch and the jeep leaped ahead. A spear went through the windshield and showered glass on him, but he only squinted his eyes against the flying splinters and fed the jeep more gas.