"Where can we go without running into the bloody Red troops?" whined the little Cockney.
Nelson shrugged. "North, east and south we'd walk right into their hands. West there's only the Kunlun Mountains, and without a guide we'd merely dodge around in there until the tribesmen got us."
Li Kin raised his tired head. "That reminds me. A tribesman from those mountains wanted to talk to me last night. Something about hiring us to fight for his people."
Van Voss grunted. "Some verdommte Trans-Tibetan tribe that wants a few machine-guns to crush their neighbors."
Sloan's hard face was thoughtful. "It might be an out, though. In those mountains, if we knew our way, we'd be safe. Where is the man?"
"Still waiting outside, I think," said the Chinese. "I'll get him." He went heavily toward the doorway.
Nelson looked after him without interest, simply because he was sick of looking at Sloan and Van Voss and Wister.
Through the open door he watched Li Kin cross the dusty compound to a crumbling mud wall, where another man sat — a bareheaded man in shapeless quilted garments, sitting motionless in the light of the rising sun. He did not sit with the patient immobility of peaceful things but with the tight-coiled watchfulness of a crouching tiger. He rose with a lithe quick movement when Li Kin spoke to him.
Li Kin and the stranger came back across the compound. As they entered the room Li Kin said, "This is Shan Kar."
Nelson glanced indifferently. Shan Kar was of his own age and stature but no more like himself than a wildcat is like a terrier. His bare black head was alertly erect as he studied the white men.