it left Davao," Rick said thoughtfully. "But where did the boat go?"

Major Lacson answered. "We don't know. But it is possible we may find out. I've sent out an all-points bulletin asking for information. We may get a lead to its whereabouts."

"We'd better," Scotty said grimly. "Unless someone has seen it, we have the whole Sulu Sea to search!"

CHAPTER V

Trail of the "Sampaguita"

The PAL plane droned westward, over the incredible swamps of the Pulangi River, toward Cotabato. Rick watched the sweltering marshland unfold below and caught glimpses of the winding brown river that turned the countryside into a morass. From Colonel Rojas' briefing he knew that the countryside was alive with crocodiles and less pleasant creatures.

In the seat next to Rick, Scotty catnapped. Zircon, across the aisle, was apparently deep in thought.

Rick hoped fervently that they weren't on a wild-goose chase. At Davao they had learned that Briotti, Shannon, and their guide had been kidnaped by some group the Bagobos feared. The reason for the kidnaping could not be guessed. No requests for ransom had been made, and the scientists had no known personal enemies.

Instead of clearing up the mystery, Rick thought, the little they had found had only deepened it. His concern for his missing friends had turned to a deep fear that they might not be found until too late. He was very conscious of the passage of time. Nearly three weeks had elapsed since the scientists had been forcefully taken from the Bagobo village.

"Think they were taken away on the boat?" Scotty asked suddenly.

Rick turned quickly. Scotty hadn't been napping after all. "We can't be sure, but doesn't it seem likely?"

"It does to me. Of course the kidnapers might have carried them into the interior, but I can't imagine anyone carrying prisoners over those jungle trails. Besides, the boat is missing."

"There are no roads where they could have been taken by car," Rick agreed. "Lacson will try to find the cars that brought them into Davao, but even if he succeeds, it won't tell us much." He changed the subject. "Who could those men have been? They must have been pretty fierce to frighten the Bagobos. That headman doesn't look like a man who scares easily."

"I haven't the glimmer of an idea. Kidnaping two scientists makes no sense at all."

"True. But it must have made sense to the kidnapers."

Scotty didn't comment further. After a while Rick reached under the seat and drew out Shannon's quiver. He had wrapped it in a plastic bag in which his trousers had been returned by the dry cleaner.

The quiver was of soft leather, and made to be slung on the back. It was compartmented for three kinds of arrows. Rick drew one out and saw that it was a blunt type for hunting small game. Next to the blunt ones were razor-sharp broadhead arrows. The third variety was smaller broadheads. There were a dozen of each.

On the back of the quiver were two zippered pouches. In the first Rick found four new bowstrings and beeswax for waxing them, plus a small file and a whetstone for keeping the broadheads sharp. In the other compartment were two sets of finger cots, or protectors, and a stiff leather arm guard. He slipped a protector, made like sections of glove fingers, on the first three fingers of his right hand. A size too large, but it would do. The arm guard would be all right when he adjusted it.

The bow was in its own special compartment. Rick checked and saw that it was undamaged. It was in two sections, the upper limb made to be fitted into the handle, which was permanently attached to the lower limb. It was an excellent bow, not as heavy as some, but a deadly weapon in the hands of a good shot. It pulled fifty pounds at twenty-eight inches draw.

Rick slipped the quiver back under the seat. He planned to carry it when necessary, so that he, too, would be armed. He was a better than average bowman. It was one of the few sports in which he could nearly always beat Scotty, thanks to his own aptitude and Shannon's teaching. He noticed suddenly that the seat belt light had flashed on. He tightened his belt as the plane descended into Cotabato.

He watched as the city came into view. It was a community of small houses located on a series of rivers or canals. The surrounding countryside was given over to rice paddies and occasional coconut groves.

This was the first step in the backward trail. Rick had no idea what they might find, but lacking any other course of action they had decided to go back along the Sampaguita's route hoping to pick up a clue. They would stay in Cotabato only as long as the plane stopped, just time enough to meet Tony Briotti's friend, Father Murray, an American missionary priest.

As the plane swept in for a landing across the unpaved runway Rick saw the white robes of a priest and knew that Major Lacson's message to the Cotabato constabulary detachment asking that the priest meet the plane had been received.

Father Murray, a lean, tanned, sun-helmeted man of youthful appearance, greeted them as they stepped from the plane. Zircon introduced himself and the boys, and the four retired to the shade of a royal palm to talk.

"Tony and Howard's disappearance was shocking news," Father Murray commented. "You have no new information about what happened to them?"

Zircon told him the little they knew. "We stopped by to see you, hoping you could shed some light on the kidnaping."

The priest shook his head. "I haven't the remotest idea. Their visit here was without incident, except for a robbery attempt. I don't even recall any conversation that might be helpful. We talked mostly about their research project."

"You mentioned a robbery?" Rick asked.

"Yes, the first night they were here. Thieves broke into the convento, but by good luck, some of my Christian parishioners who live next door were awake. They hurried to the rescue with guns, and the thieves fled before they found where we were sleeping. My people said they were Moros."

Zircon gestured at a group of Moros lounging in the shade of the wooden airport building. "You seem to have quite a few of them here."

Father Murray chuckled. "Indeed we do. This is a Moro province. Both the mayor and governor are Moros. Christians are few."

Rick noted the tight trousers and bolero-type vests that exposed muscular chests. Two of the Moros wore purple velvet caps. The others wore straw hats of intricately woven design that reminded him of helmets.

"Was a Moro guide with our friends?" Zircon asked.

"Yes. He seemed like a respectable young man. I saw little of him, however. He stayed with us, but kept to himself, probably bored with our talk. Did you know that Tony and I were classmates in high school?"

The three hadn't known it. No wonder Tony and Shannon had gone so far out of their way to visit Cotabato.

"That robbery attempt interests me," Scotty said. "Have you ever had such an incident before?"

"Never. The Moros let us alone. Besides, the proverbial church mice would seem rich compared with us. We have literally nothing worth robbing."

The flight was called and the Spindrifters shook hands with Father Murray. He waved as they boarded the plane and prepared to take off.

"Not very helpful," Professor Zircon remarked, "although I'm glad we had a chance to meet Father Murray."

Rick agreed, but added, "Doesn't it strike you as pretty strange coincidence that thieves should try to rob him for the first time, on the night Briotti and Shannon arrived?"

Scotty saw at once what Rick meant. "You think they might not have been thieves? That it might have been a kidnap attempt that failed?"

"It's a possibility," Rick pointed out.

Zircon leaned across the aisle. "Consider the implications of what you're saying, Rick. Cotabato is a long way from Davao. Why would a gang chase our friends across