"A lot of natives wearing goat skins came rushing up to the plane," declared Li. "We thought they were going to mob us."
"They were shouting 'Yeti! Yeti!' over and over," put in Chuba, "but before we could find out what they meant, Muscles went after them. You should have seen them run."
Charles Keene laid aside his empty cup.
"Later, they came creeping back," he said, "and we made friends with them. So we didn't ask what they meant by shouting—"
He stopped suddenly, as Barma Shah made frantic gestures for silence. A
Ladakhi porter was standing by, staring with dark, narrowed eyes. Barma
Shah told the man to bring some more hot coffee. Then, when he was gone,
Barma Shah confided:
"Don't mention the word Yeti to these people. You have heard of the giant ape-man of the Himalayas, haven't you? The creature they call the Abominable Snowman? That's their name for it: Yeti—"
"I remember now!" exclaimed Charles Keene. "I was sure I'd heard the word before. But I thought that yarn was spiked long ago."
"Not in these mountains," rejoined Barma Shah. "Here in Ladakh, as well as Kashmir, Sikkim, Bhutan, Nepal, Tibet, and even as far away as Yarkand, the Yeti is very real. The natives will run away if they even think such a creature is around."
"And we thought they meant the plane!" exclaimed Li.
"Yes, because we came down from the sky like a big bird," added Chuba.
"Bigger than they ever saw before."