A poke in the ribs from Chahda took his mind off the problem in a hurry, and put it on a new and immediate one. A man was walking directly toward them, coming from the direction of the western shore. Rick couldn't see him clearly; it was too dark in the village. But he could see enough to know that the pirate carried a rifle and had a barong tucked into his belt. Rick's hand started for the pistol, then paused. He couldn't shoot now. It would bring the whole village down on them. For a moment he nearly panicked, then with a nod to Chahda he walked directly toward the man. The bold approach was the best one, he figured. To run was to bring a shot. He had a vague idea of getting within range, then jumping the Moro. Certainly they couldn't stop and talk with him; neither of them knew the language. The pirate didn't seem uncertain, or alarmed. He walked toward the two boys casually, obviously not yet recognizing them as strangers. He would soon, Rick knew. It was important to get the jump on the Moro first, and prevent him yelling, if possible. Then, as Rick prepared for a wild spring and a roundhouse punch, Chahda whispered, "Be ready," and lifted his hand in salute. The Moro lifted his hand, too, and said something in the native tongue. It might have been a greeting; neither boy ever knew for sure. Chahda walked right up to him, muttering something that was probably Hindu double talk. The Indian boy moved so that the Moro swung around, trying to understand what Chahda was saying. For an instant the pirate's back was to Rick. He moved like a charging panther. The pistol came out of his sash and descended barrel first, all his desperate strength behind it. He felt it slam down on the pirate's turban and connect solidly with the head underneath. Chahda caught the man as he fell, and in an instant the two boys had hauled him under the nearest house. Rick found the man's pulse and breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. It was thready and slow, but it was there. The pirate would wake up, but not for some time. The dog sniffed inquiringly at the fallen Moro, but made no noise. Rick took Chahda by the arm and pulled him out into the street again, pausing anxiously to see if the brief and violent meeting had attracted attention. Apparently it hadn't. There were no signs of life in nearby houses, and no one looked out of those with lights farther along the street. Rick decided they had better conduct their search with all possible speed. The boys moved rapidly along the street at the top of the T, toward the waterfront on the south. The dog trotted alongside, their firm friend now. Rick knew the boat dock must be at the end of the street. That would certainly mean guards, and it wouldn't be wise to go too close.