“I don’t know, Biff. Fellow very nice. But funny-looking fellow.”
“What do you mean, funny looking?”
“One eye closed like door. No see out of it. Fellow have only one good eye.”
Biff’s thoughts raced back to the Chinese passenger on the plane from Indianapolis to Chicago—a Chinese with a drooping eyelid.
CHAPTER XIV
The Circling Plane
The next day, in a small village of only a few mud and thatched houses, Chuba continued his inquiries. This time, the second man he asked told of having heard of a big bird “roar like the thunders of heaven.” It had been seen coming down in the mountains.
In mid-afternoon of the second day after leaving the market town, Chuba came up with more definite information. He was told that a flying man had come down in the foothills near a police outpost called Jaraminka.
Chuba was elated by the news that now seemed to be coming to them so easily.
“Too easily,” Biff said.
“How you mean, Biff?”