He wiped his face and neck with a sodden handkerchief and plodded ahead through the green steam bath. Insects formed a cloud around his head, flew into his eyes and even into his mouth. He bore it stoically. It was as bad for the others. Anyone who walked off the beaten trails would be helplessly lost without a compass or an experienced guide. A man could wander in the dense growth until death in some unpleasant form claimed him. One couldn't even see a trail from more than a few feet away. Half an hour later, Rick saw that the growth was giving way to a different kind of jungle forest, as the trail sloped upward. In a short time they entered a more normal forest of tall, white lauans over a hundred feet high, with strange roots like flying buttresses. Soon the forest gave way to open plain, sparsely dotted with papaya trees and a lone mango. Lacson called that they were almost at their destination. Rick wiped his face and was grateful. His clothes hung on him as though he had been caught in a torrential rain. In spite of the insect repellent, he had been chewed by assorted bugs. He forgot his discomfort at the sight of the village. Apparently civilization had reached the Bagobos. The huts were of sawed lumber and tin roofing material. He saw one roof made from an American gasoline sign. In contrast with the drab surroundings, the people were bright spots of color. They eyed the group with frank curiosity, then followed as Juan led the way to the headman's hut. The headman met them with dignified courtesy. Rick saw that the man was nearly six feet tall, with a lean, hawklike face, the skin stretched tightly over high cheekbones. He looked like an American Indian, but his skin was the color of a white man who has spent his life outdoors in the tropics. The Bagobos clearly were of a different race than the Filipinos. "That's quite a man," Scotty whispered. Rick nodded. He, too, was impressed by the headman, except for one thing. Although the Bagobo talked freely, through Juan, his eyes never once met those of any of the party. He looked everywhere but at the visitors. It was out of character, Rick thought. This man, who obviously had a kind of fierce, barbaric pride, should look any man squarely in the eye. The talk went smoothly, and Rick realized the headman had been through all this before, probably more than once, in interviews with the constabulary. To each question the Bagobo chieftain answered that he had seen no Americans, nor had his people. Had they come to the village, he would know it. "We'll get nothing here," Zircon finally said to the major. "Frankly, I expected nothing. If there was information to be gained from this man, you could have gotten it." Lacson shrugged. "True, perhaps. But I thought you would want to check for yourself."