ck and his friends were
jouncing along a twisting, bumpy road into the foothills of Mindanao.
They had risen with the dawn and taken Philippines Airlines, PAL for
short, to Davao. On arrival they had checked in at the Apo View Hotel
and had lost no time in finding local constabulary headquarters.

Major Paulo Lacson, in charge of the detachment, had instantly ordered a
pair of command cars. Before the Spindrifters quite realized it, they
were whisked out of town, en route to the point where Briotti and
Shannon had vanished. Colonel Rojas' letter of introduction had really
worked magic.

Rick stared out at the tropical landscape, and toward the peak of Mount
Apo, an active volcano over nine thousand feet high, but he didn't
really notice details. In a short while they would be at what he
considered the real start of their search.

The major drove the lead car, with Zircon in front beside him. Rick and
Scotty occupied the rear seat. In the second car were four armed,
enlisted men. As the small convoy roared toward the town of Calinan,
Major Lacson told them all he knew of the case. It was the same
information the three had already received, naturally enough, since
their information had been based on the officer's reports.

Rick shook his head worriedly. If Lacson, obviously an intelligent and
efficient officer, could find out no more, how could three strangers?

The command car whisked by an abaca plantation, with mile after mile of
lush green bananalike abaca plants extending into the foothills.

"Look." Scotty pointed at drying racks on which Manila hemp fiber,
product of the abaca, was drying. The fiber was a honey blond shade.

"It's just the color of Barby's hair," Rick exclaimed.

Major Lacson explained, "Abaca is graded by color. White is best, but
that shade means it is very good. It will bring a good price." Then, as
the command car topped a rise, the major pointed ahead. "There is
Calinan."

The town was a small one, with stores and houses on both sides of a
single main street. The place had a sleepy air.

At the edge of town Lacson drew up in front of a house that flew the
flag of the republic. A sergeant ran out, came stiffly to attention, and
saluted. After a brief command from the major, the sergeant ran to climb
into the second car.

"Juan speaks a little Bagobo," Lacson explained. "He can translate for
us."

The two cars moved through the town, past a group of colorfully arrayed
people with