“Chuba can’t say. Maybe so so. Maybe no. Maybe they give us this.” Chuba brought his hand swiftly across his throat. Biff felt a sickening sensation in his stomach.
Feeling around in Chuba’s bundle, Biff’s hand struck an oblong object. It felt like a box. Biff carefully lifted the cloth from which the bundle was made. He raised it so that the bandits would be unable to see what the box was. If the situation hadn’t been such a dangerous one, Biff would have laughed. Chuba had brought with him his Evil Spirit Box—the one Muscles had frightened Chuba with the first morning Biff was in camp.
Touching the box, an idea came into Biff’s head.
“Chuba, quick! Tell me more about these bandits. Are they superstitious? I mean, frightened by strange things, things they’ve never seen before?”
“Much afraid. Big fear of spirits.”
Biff nodded his head. “I’ve got an idea. Think we could scare them with your Evil Spirit Box?”
Excitement danced in Chuba’s eyes. “They be scared like crazy. More scared than Chuba was.”
“Okay. We’ll try it. Now you tell them something like this. Tell them we are protected by magic of the gods. The evil spirit will put its hand on them unless they let us go. They are not to bother us. Make it good. Bow down and stuff like that. Look to the sky and make like you’re calling the spirit.”
“Chuba catch wise. Make big show.”
“Okay. Now, at some point when you’re putting on your act, when the bandits are all looking at you, I’ll yell ‘Fly!’ When I do, I’ll toss your spirit box into the air. You swing around and catch it. I’ll have it started. You hold it up high when the siren’s going. Then place it on the ground and jump back when the hand comes out. Tell them that’s the hand of the evil spirit, reaching out to touch them.”