The Tibetan screamed.
He whirled, eyes wide with astonished fright, and he didn't even see the rifle. He swept an enormous knife from his belt and leaped!
Rick stumbled backward, and as he did, he realized that he couldn't shoot. He still needed the man for a guide. He swung the rifle, barrel first.
It was just as effective as it had been when he swung on Worthington Ko. The barrel connected with an audible thunk. The Tibetan fell forward on his face.
Frightened out of his wits, Rick rolled him over, pulled aside the sheepskin coat he wore and put his ear on the man's chest. Then he sighed with relief. He hadn't swung too hard. For a moment he had feared that the blow had killed the man. And that would have been almost as effective as holding the rifle barrel to his own head, because he still had no idea of where to go without the guide.
He debated for a moment, then lifted the Tibetan, dragged him to the boat and dumped him in. It was a flat-bottomed craft with blunt ends and primitive oar-locks. The oars were poles with round disks of wood on the ends.
He collected the candle and the camera, placed them on a thwart, and went to work on the rope. It was reeved through an iron ring that jutted from the stone. The sight gave him heart. Where there was iron, men came often. At least he was sure that held true in this case. But his victory had spurred him on and he didn't want to sit quietly and wait. He wanted to keep going.
He untied the knot, blew out the candle, shipped the oars and pushed off. Something was on the other side of this Lake of Darkness. He couldn't imagine what, but he intended to find out!