ying Spears

"Just like the old saying," Rick observed. "Birds of a feather flock
together. A crooked Filipino, a crooked American, and a crazy Ifugao are
now in conference. And what is the conference about?"

"They talk about who wins next World Series," Chahda suggested brightly.

Scotty scoffed at the idea. "They aren't sports lovers, Chahda. They are
gentlemen of culture. I think the conference is about motion pictures.
My idea is that Lazada and Nast are visiting Nangolat in order to get an
Ifugao opinion on whether the hero should be allowed to kiss his horse
in western pictures."

Tony Briotti leaned on his shovel. "I can't see how you can be so wrong
when the evidence is so clear. Isn't Lazada the Assistant Secretary of
the Interior? Isn't this the Interior? I think the Ifugao terraces are
about to be converted to a national park, under the Department of the
Interior. The Assistant Secretary is here to discuss the hot-dog
concession with a local bigwig. Of course he has his American hot-dog
expert with him. It's as simple as that."

Scotty checked his rifle carefully, sighting down the barrel to make
sure it was mirror clean. "They could also be talking about building a
new swimming pool for Ifugao boys and girls, but somehow I doubt it.
What say we not worry about what they're saying to each other, and worry
instead about digging?"

"Right as usual," Tony said. "Let's keep at it, and perhaps we'll come
up with something worth talking about."

They had made a good start. Now, working two by two, they excavated
until the shovels rang from stone. Scraping disclosed a flat stone that
probably was a lid of some kind. They resumed digging until the stone
was completely exposed, then tried to lift it.

"Weighs a ton," Rick grunted. "Did it move at all?"

"Not that I could see," Tony said. "Let's dig down around the edges more
and see if the stone is anchored."

Further digging showed that the stone was not anchored. It probably had
been set in some kind of primitive mortar which would have to be broken
before the stone could be lifted. A crowbar from the truck supplied
leverage and in a moment the stone was free. Willing hands found holds,
lifted it free, and slid it to the back of the recess. Where the stone
had been there now yawned a circular opening about the size of a
manhole.

Tony Briotti was beside himself with excitement. He ran to the truck,
rummaged in the supplies, and produced a flashlight.