Below, Rick Brant moved his king diagonally across the three-dimensional chessboard and said triumphantly, "Checkmate!" Scotty rose, drew back one muscular leg as though to kick the set into the air, then grinned. "Had to let you win. Bad for morale to lose all the time. Next time I'll teach you how to lose." Rick snorted. "You let me win like a mother bear would let me walk off with her cubs. It's my remarkable intellect that won that game, and nothing else." "Won by your wits, eh?" Scotty mopped his wet face. "And you only half armed!" Rick shied a chessman at him. "Wait until we teach this game to Chahda." Scotty chuckled. "He'll probably beat us both at once, then we'll find out he learned how to play from the latest edition of _The World Almanac_." Chahda, their Hindu friend, had learned about America by memorizing an old copy of the _Almanac_, and he quoted from it at every opportunity. Since their first meeting in Bombay during the adventure of _The Lost City_, the Indian boy had been with them on several expeditions. Now he was to meet them in Manila to help them in their search for one of ancient history's most fabulous treasures. Rick, a tall, slim boy, with light-brown hair and brown eyes, led the way up the ladder to the deck. Scotty, bigger and slightly darker in coloring, followed close behind. They walked toward the bow, searching for Briotti, their eyes not yet accustomed to the darkness. Rick called, "Tony?" "Here by the rail," the archaeologist answered. The boys moved toward him, but someone--or something--moved faster. A shadowy form sped past them, and Rick's quick eyes caught the flash of light on steel. He yelled, "Watch it!" Tony moved, and a steel blade clanged off the ship's rail. Rick and Scotty leaped forward, grasping for the shadow. The steel blade lifted again. Scotty grabbed a wrist and twisted. The blade clattered to the deck. Rick got his arms around a sweaty waist and squeezed, bracing his feet to lift the man off the deck. Then an elbow caught him in the Adam's apple and flooded his eyes with tears of pain. He loosened his grip involuntarily and felt the man squirm free. Scotty yelled, "Get him!" Tony Briotti swung a roundhouse right that missed and sent him sprawling off balance. Then the assailant was on the rail, poised. Scotty lunged for his ankle as the man dived cleanly out and away from the ship into the dark water. The three rushed to the rail, watching for the swimmer. "Man overboard!" Tony's voice lifted in a shout that brought the crew running. For a few moments there was confusion as the officers and crew tried to find out what had happened, and then the searchlight on the bridge was manned and its white beam cut the water. There was no swimmer. But off toward Bataan Peninsula the light reflected from the patched sail of a _banca_, an outrigger canoe, sailing toward shore with a bone in its teeth.