CHAPTER XII
The Ifugao Village
The terraced mountain wall fell away below to the valley floor. Halfway between Rick and the dark sheen of the river was a level area which Chahda said was the village. However, it was too dark to see very much.
"We'll break our necks if we try to climb around among these terraces," Scotty whispered.
Chahda admitted, "Good possibility. But what else is there? Later moon will be up a little. We not go down yet. Study lay of land."
They had left their jeeps on the roadway that passed above the village. So far as they knew, no one had seen them approach. Now, perhaps a hundred feet above the cluster of huts, they sat at the edge of a terrace and waited for the moon to rise.
Rick studied the landscape below. His feet dangled over thirty feet of vertical wall. He would have to make his way down that wall to the next terrace, and then down the next and the next until he emerged at the village level. He would be very much like an ant climbing down the three stone steps at home, except that he wasn't as sure-footed as an ant on vertical surfaces.
Then, once the bottom was reached, they had to find Tony, free him, and take him up the terraces to the jeeps. Rick shook his head. They probably would have to fight every inch of the way, and there was no assurance that they would make it.
In the village below, someone was adding wood to a small open fire in the central area that served as a village common. Rick could make out several figures. Scotty moved closer to him. "We need a way to cover our retreat. Any ideas?"