ner at
Bontoc, a man who represents law and order--such as it is. So Nangolat,
apparently, decided to stake everything on capturing us, forcing us to
find the cache, then removing our heads. By the time the law got around
to looking for us, the artifacts would be well hidden by the Ifugaos,
and so would our bodies. Our skulls would be aging gracefully in some
hidden place. And no Ifugao would know a single thing about it when
questioned. It was a good scheme."

"Except for one thing," Rick corrected. "The terraces cover miles. We
could spend weeks searching."

"There's one bit of evidence you don't have, boys. Remember that there
is a major clue to the whereabouts of the cache? A dragon. Well,
Nangolat knows--and has always known without knowing its significance
until now--where the dragon is located."

Tony smiled at the interested faces around him. "And that's not all. I
know where it is, too!"

CHAPTER XIV

Sign of the Dragon

The convoy formed at dawn. One jeep was left with Pilipil, who had
learned to drive while working for the United States Air Force. The
other jeep, with Tony, Chahda, and Rick, went ahead as advance guard.
The truck, with Scotty, Angel, Balaban, and Dog Meat, carried the
equipment.

The earth scanner had been checked. It worked fine. Picks and shovels
were ready, as were Tony's cleaning brushes, knives, and other tools.
When electronic science had located the treasure, old-fashioned digging
methods would have to unearth it.

Rifles, carbines, and the single shotgun were loaded and ready. Hunting
knives hung at belts.

Rick, driving the lead jeep, followed the twisting road up into the
clouds that always seemed to hover at the top of the divide. It was
bitter cold, but they were warmly dressed in clothing from their camp
supplies. They kept a sharp lookout for Ifugao guards, but the road was
deserted.

As the road descended into the Ifugao country, Tony kept watching for
the first rice terrace. Soon he motioned to Rick. "Around this turn, I
think. Slow."

Rick rounded the turn and emerged on a natural terrace overlooking
Banaue Valley. The sun, just risen, was a golden ball veiled by mist. It
gave the valley a warm, subdued light that reflected from the green
rice, and from the sheen of water in some terraces.

It was a scene of indescribable beauty. For long moments the occupants
of truck and jeep just looked and said nothing. Then Dog Meat and
Balaban slipped from the