“I’m not sure, Chuba. But it seems strange to me that everyone seems to be helping us along. It’s as if we’re being guided to this certain place.”
“That is not good?”
Biff shook his head. “It’s too good. It could be a trap. I’m pretty sure now that someone has spotted me, or at least, knows I’m in this part of China.”
“How could they know that? You look like Chinese boy, not like American Biff Brewster.”
Biff didn’t reply at once. He was thinking. He was thinking that by asking questions about the House of Kwang, about a downed flyer, someone’s curiosity had been aroused. Someone was very interested in his search for Charles Keene. Otherwise, how had it been so easy to get the information Chuba had been given?
Biff also felt sure that the person, or persons, responsible for feeding Chuba directional information must know that it was he, Biff Brewster, who was in China. He couldn’t drive from his mind the picture of the Chinese with the drooping eyelid. Chuba’s description of the man with one eye fitted too closely.
“Chuba, I think we’re definitely being led into a trap. Someone is leading us to the place where my uncle is. It may be friends. It may be members of the House of Kwang. But, it also may be enemies of my uncle. They may be holding my uncle prisoner, and want to capture me, too. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know all the answers. But I’ve got a hunch.”
“If we being led into trap like poor little goat into dragon’s mouth, maybe we better stop. Maybe go different way. Maybe better give Jaraminka the by-go,” Chuba suggested.
Biff smiled. “No, we won’t give Jaraminka the ‘go-by.’ We’ll let ourselves be led into—or up to the trap. It’s our only chance of finding my uncle. We don’t have any other leads. But maybe we can get right up to the trap and avoid having it sprung on us.”
The boys climbed a narrowing mountain trail higher into the foothills. Nightfall found them in a wild, desolate spot. No lights could be seen in any direction they looked. At the altitude they had reached, a chill came with the night air.