"Your buddy? I suppose so, or Syd would be chanting a funeral march by now. Hey, Syd! How's your patient?"
The huddle encircling Ramey split, admitting a third white man. Ramey glanced at him casually, then started, took another good look, and turned to peer over his shoulder again at the one who had called. The two young men were as like as two peas in a pod. Same height, build, coloring. Only their facial expressions differed. The newcomer's face was as dour as the first chap's was jovial. He commented acidly, "I wish you wouldn't be so boisterous, Lake! I guess he has a chance to recover—if complications don't set in. Of course, these head injuries are dangerous. It may be a fractured skull, or he may lose his sight—"
"Blind!" gasped Ramey. "Red? Oh, Lord—"
For the third time, the girl quieted him. This time with a smile. "Don't get excited, soldier. Your companion's apparently in fine shape. That's just Syd's nice, optimistic way of viewing things. 'Fractured skull or loss of sight' is a favorable prognosis—coming from him! If it were anything really serious, Syd would have the workmen digging a grave by now. Are you sure you feel well enough to get up?"
Ramey nodded, not daring to risk speech as he got to his feet. His head throbbed like a concrete mixer, and there were rubber pipes where his shin-bones should be. But somehow he managed it, and once off the ground, began to feel better. He strode to Barrett's side. The blood had been sponged from the redhead's face, and his head was rudely, but efficiently, bandaged. He grinned at Ramey.
"Hyah, Sunday-driver! Next time holler before we go under a low bridge. I forgot to duck!"
Ramey said, "You're lucky that bullet bounced itself off your bean. If it had hit anything less solid you'd be on a slab now. How's the head feel?"
"Like a wisdom tooth stuffed with sugar," complained Red. "If it's not too much trouble, keed, how's for bringing me up to date on the news? Where are we? And how did we get here?"
It was the smiling young man who supplied the answer to the first question. He said, "You're at Angkor, Cambodia, French Indo-China. I'm Lake O'Brien. The walking scowl over there is my brother, Syd, and to save time, yes, we're twins. The young lady is Miss Sheila Aiken; her father is the leader of our expedition. We're Americans. Southeastern University Archeological Expedition, if that means anything to you. But how about you? You're from the U.S.A., too, aren't you?"