"Two days!" I tried to rise, but the effort so increased the headache that I gave up and collapsed into the hammock.
"Just lie quiet and I'll bring you up to date." Baker drew up an empty film box for a seat. "I was knocked about a bit myself, you know, and by the time I came around, our friend had trotted the whole length of the Malay Peninsula and was halfway across Burma."
"But the people at Singapore," I began, "Don't those fools know yet—"
"Things have changed," said Baker. "The biggest change has been in Buddha's mind. He took our advice and almost got killed for his pains. Now he's on his own."
I tried to look through the open door. Baker shook his head.
"He's not here. No—" this in answer to my startled look, "just off for a stroll, towards China this time, I think. Yesterday he visited Lhasa. Said it's quite a place. Talked to the Lamas in Tibetan, and they understood him. He calls it playing Buddha."
Baker got up and searched among the maps, finally finding one of southeast Asia. He spread it out before me, and placed a finger rather vaguely on the great Yunnan Plateau between Burma and China.
"We're here, somewhere. Buddha doesn't know exactly, himself. He made it to Lhasa by following the Himalayas, and watching for the Potala. I hope he'll find his way back this time—be a bit awkward for us if he doesn't."
He stepped outside and brought in some cold cooked rice and meat.
"Kazu brought us a handful of cows yesterday. They were practically mashed into hamburger. I guess you'd call this pounded steak."