The Veiled Lady (5 page)

Dawn was coming to the Deep Woods, the night chill was fading, and a soft pink light began to fill the jungle. Awakening birds commenced their chirping; hungry cubs growled.

Near the massive Skull Cave, the tiny pygmy warrior Guran stirred, then sat upright and wide awake.

"You rise early today, Phantom," he said. His grip on his poison-tipped spear relaxed as he realized it was the sounds made by the masked man that had awakened him.

The Phantom was tightening the cinch on the saddle of his white stallion, Hero. "It's a long ride to the Llongo country," he told his long-time friend. "I want to get an early start, Guran"

The pygmy rubbed a small hand over the tufted top of his head. He put on his wide thatch hat, adjusting it with a pull. "So you've decided to pay her a visit?"

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", Yes,"

Brush and wispy ferns far to their right began to sway and both men turned to look. It was Devil, returning from his morning romp.

The big gray wolf trotted up to watch his master, panting happily in anticipation of a new adventure, Guran lifted his hat to scratch his head once more. "I could warn you again not to go near ," he said. "But I know it would do no good. When you have made up your mind, nothing can stop you."

The Phantom grinned at the little gray-brown man. "I respect your advice, Guran," he said.

"However, I want to find out what happened to the girl and her party. As you know, the Jungle Patrol copter brought back no new information after flying over the volcano. Colonel Weeks has heard nothing more from Doctor Love since that interrupted message yesterday afternoon. I'm going to . If there's a chance..."

"Yes, I know. If there's a chance, no matter how slim, that those foolish scientists can he rescued, the Phantom will take it." The pygmy's serious expression was spoiled by a chuckle. "Oh, yes, I know,"

The Phantom swung lightly up into the saddle. "The Llongo tribe live near the volcano," he said, "I want ~OU to send word to their chief. Tell him I'd like him to meet me at the head of the River of Fire,"

Guran nodded. "It will be done," he told the masked man. "No need to wish you luck, since I know the Phantom makes his own. Good-bye."

"I'll see you again soon," the Phantom assured the little man. He made a gentle clucking sound and the great stallion galloped away along the jungle trail which led away from the Skull Cave.

Giving a pleased growl, Devil started running in their wake, Soon, as the Phantom sped through the tangle of the Deep Woods, the sound of pygmy drums was heard, His message to the chief of the Llongo tribe was on its way.

The chief of the peaceful Lion go tribe was a large plump man in his middle years. He wore a headdress of scarlet plumes and polished bones interwoven with gold. His cloak was of a similar shade of scarlet, trimmed with white plumes. Now in the mid-afternoon, he was moving with his entourage of warriors toward the great volcano.

The trees and foliage bordering the path toward were damp and a fine mist drifted perpetually through the branches and among the thick, hanging leaves.

The chief paused once again, mopping at his broad brow with one plump hand. "I would not undertake such a trip for everyone," he confided to the large black warrior at his side. "For the Phantom of course..." He trailed off into a panting sigh, resuming his stride.

The mist grew thicker as they neared the base of the veiled volcano. They could hear a loud gushing roar. It was here that the hot river known as the River of Fire had its origin. It came rushing out of the mountainside about a hundred feet up, a waterfall of heated water, and then began its rush down through the Llongo country, through forests and through roIling fields where the Llongo herds grazed. The water spit out tangles of steam and warm spray as it fell down the cliffside to splash on the volcanic rocks at the commencement of the river's course.

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The chief halted two dozen yards from the hot river, raising a hand. His party stopped behind him.

Wiping his brow again, the chief squinted at . The mountain rose up and was lost in the mist at its distant peak. "I do not like this place," he said finally, "Were it not for the Phantom I would never-"

"He comes," whispered a warrior.

From out of the mist to their left stepped the tall broad-shouldered masked man. He was leading his stallion, his right hand was held high in greeting.

"Phantom," said the chief, beaming. "Oh, Ghost Who Walks, welcome. Welcome, oh, Man Who Cannot Die."

"I am honored," said the Phantom when he halted near the Llongo chief and his party. "Honored that you, great and wise ruler of the peaceful and industrious Llongo people, have come here to greet me, along with your bravest warriors."

After a few more similar courtesies were exchanged, the plump chief drew the Phantom to one side,

"There is trouble, Ghost Who Walks? We have heard the Jungle Patrol planebuzzing high above us.

And we have heard that someone has fallen into the very mouth of the volcano."

"That's true," replied the masked man. "Yesterday two scientists and their pilot made an attempt to fly down into in a helicopter."

"Ah, I see"

"Did your people notice anything yesterday?"

"No, nothing save the Jungle Patrol ship."

"You know nothingabout what might have happened to those people?"

"Alas, no, Ghost Who Walks." The chief shook his head, causing the scarlet plumes to flutter. "I would guess they are dead now, like all the others. No one has ever returned alive from ." He pointed skyward.

Not following the gesture, the Phantom kept his gaze on the chief. "What doyou mean, Chief, about others~"

The chief laid a plump hand on the Phantom's brawny arm. "Look up that way, ' he said, pointing again. "You can barely make it out if you strain your eyes. Way up there at the very lip of the volcano is a flattened-out area known as the bare spot. Evil things were done there in days long past."

"I know of the sacrifices," said the Phantom.

The Llongo chieftain said, "In ancient days, maidens were hurled alive from that hare spot as a sacrifice to the angry gods. Not only maidens, but much gold and precious stones and carvings of ivory, so we are told." He gave a sad shake of his head. "We have thought it best to let whatever treasure there is rest down there forever. Even if a man could climb down and survive to find the treasure, he would never be able to return alive."

The Phantom did not reply.He turned his hack on the mountain to study the down-rushing steaming 24

River of Fire,

The chief's eyes looked that way, too, "Our old legends tell us this river is made of the hot tears of ," he continued. "Tears of pity shed for the poor young girls who were so cruelly sacrificed."

"Wait now." The Phantom suddenly sprinted to the river's edge. He snatched up a stick to poke at something spinning in the rumbling waters. "That flower, it comes from inside the volcano."

The plump chief slowly moved to join the masked man. "Such flowers grow nowhere else on earth, I believe," he explained as the Phantom rescued the gigantic bloom from the River of Fire, "It is from the heart of ."

The flower was white and crimson, many-petaled. It was shaped like a giant cup, like an intricately worked grail, and measured fully twelve inches across, The Phantom held the dripping blossom in the palms of both hands. "If this flower grew in there, then there is life at the bottom of the volcano."

All at once a realization came to the chief, He gave a loud exclamation, took a step backward. "I have not yet asked you the reason for your visit," he said. "Surely you don't intend to-?"

"Yes," the Phantom said to him. "I'm going to visit ."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alone now, the Phantom began his long climb.

Slung over one broad shoulder was a long, coiled rope, which the Llongo people had helped him make from sturdy vines. The priests of centuries before had caused a rough stairway to be carved into the mountainside. The Phantom was following this on his ascent toward the sacrificial bare spot.

Hearing weapons and ornaments jangle far below, he looked down. The plump Llongo chief waved a final farewell before he and his entourage turned away. The chief's shoulders had a sad slouch. He was certain that not even the Phantom could survive a visit to .

The Phantom, before starting his upward journey, had entrusted his stallion Hero and the wolf Devil to the care of the Llongo chief. Sensing his master was gazing clown at him, the big wolf gave a mournful howl, protesting their separation.

The retreating Llongos blurred. Soon the swirling mist put a wall of white between the masked man and everyone and everything on the ground. He was wrapped in solitude, alone with the towering mountain.

He maintained a steady pace, working ever higher. Silence seemed to flow all around him with the mist.

Eventually, the Phantom reached the place of ancient sacrifice, the bare spot. Standing with hands on hips, he surveyed the chasm into which he must go.

"Can't see the bottom at all," the masked man said to himself.

Spiraling up toward him were great billows of steamy mist.

Kneeling on one knee, the Phantom scanned the volcano interior immediately below him. The wall

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looks to be sheer for a good hundred feet or more, he thought. But then she starts a gradual slope. I'll try to reach that slope, then see what comes next.

Nearby in the mist, something scraped rock.

The masked man rose, spun, his hand dropping toward a holster. Then he relaxed, grinning. "Have you come to give me a going-away party?"

Climbing up out of the fog was little Guran, and behind him came a half-dozen Bandar, the pygmy people. "I decided to journey out of the Deep Woods," said Guran.

"So I see. But why?"

"To make one more attempt to persuade you not to enter this evil mountain," said the Phantom's old friend. With a spear he gestured at the spirals of mist beyond the rim. "This is an accursed place, Phantom. A place of death."

The masked man stepped forward, placing a hand on the pygmy's shoulder. "I must go, Guran," he told him. "The girl and her friends may still be alive down there."

Guran watched the Phantom's face for a few seconds, "Very well then," he said at last. With both hands, he held out the spear he'd been carrying. "I would like you to take this spear with you, Phantom. It is specially prepared against evil."

The Phantom knew this meant the spear was tipped with an extra-strong dose of poison. He felt his guns would serve him better against anything he might encounter below, but he accepted his long-time friend's gesture. "Thank you, Guran. I will carry it with me."

"That pleases me, Phantom," said Guran as he handed over the weapon.

The masked man swung the spear over his shoulder, and sheathed it in the back of his wide gun belt.

"I've left Hero and Devil with the Llongos," said the Phantom. He unslung the coil of vine rope, began playing it out. "Will you wait with the Llongo people until I return?"

The gray-brown pygmy caught up the end of the rope and set about securing it to a rock. "We will return to the Deep Woods."

"Very well." The Phantom waited until the rope was fastened, then gave it a hard, testing tug. "I'll see you back at the Skull Cave."

Guran said, "Yes, back at the cave." He stood quietly, watching.

Nodding at him, with a grin, the Phantom backed over the edge of the bare spot. He went over and began working his way, wide-legged, down the sheer vertical wall of the ancient volcano.

Guran squatted at the lip of the fiat sacrifice stone. After a few moments the lithe figure of the Phantom sank down out of sight, swallowed by the thick, spinning mist. The little man remained staring down for several minutes more. At last, he stood and told the other pygmies, "We will go now."

"When will we see him again?" asked one of the others.

"Soon," replied Guran.

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A large dry leaf, shaped like the spade on an ace of spades, fell down to jiggle Tinn's hand. Grains of gold-brown tobacco spilled out of his cigarette paper, splashing flecks on his boots. The weary-looking Chinese was slouched against the bole of a widetrunked gnarled tree. "What's happening now?" he asked casually.

Up above him, stretched out on the broad twisting arms of the high forest tree, was Silvera. He had a pair of dented binoculars pressed to his eyes and was watching , which loomed a quarter of a mile in the distance. "He went right over the edge, I think," said Silvera. "One can't be all that sure with so much fog blowing about up there."

"But you're certain it's the Phantom?"

"Well, how many masked men are there in this damned jungle? Of course it's the Phantom."

Another large leaf came plummeting down and Tinn swung his nearly completed cigarette out of the way. "We ought to go home, back to Mawitaan."

"Oh, yes-Barber, he'd like that. One can envision the scene when you and I appear, looking a little sheepish, to tell him the Phantom frightened us away."

"The Phantom does frighten me," said Thin. "That's the truth."

"Here come those little pygmy rascals," said Silvera up in the tree. "They're making their way back down the volcano side. That's good."

"What's good about it?"

"One assumes thereby that the Phantom is going down into all by himself." Silvera shifted his position slightly. "We won't have to worry about running into a pack of poison-throwing little savages as well."

Tinn lit his new cigarette. "No, all we have to worry about is the Phantom," he said. "And whatever it was that probably killed Gabe."

"One has to consider the odds." Silvera lifted the glasses to rub at his eyes. "Two of us against the Phantom is better odds than two of us against him and a whole troop of pygmy savages."

"I suppose," said Tinn, puffing.

Silvera frowned down at the tired Chinese. "I'll tell you something, Tinn. The reason Barber sits comfortably back in Mawitaan while you work your tail off out in the jungle is because of your negative attitude toward life. I sense a distinct air of defeatism about you."

Exhaling smoke, Thin asked, "And how come you're up in a tree in the same jungle with me?"

"Circumstances," answered Silvera. "Circumstances have forced me to work far below my true capacities." He returned the binoculars to the case hanging around his neck. "Now we have to wait until the horde of savages clear out."

"You really think it's possible to get down into ?"

"The Phantom went, didn't he?" Silvera nimbly swung down through the interlacing of wide

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branches. Hitting the ground, he added, "I've been doing some research, talking to people who know this Llongo country. Now, one assumes our masked friend just availed himself of the place I've been told about. It's called the bare spot."

"That's where they tossed the girls over."

"Not only girls, Thin, but treasure," said Silvera. "Imagine throwing away money and women."

"Imagine falling straight down ten thousand feet."

Silvera shook his head. "I think there's a good bit of superstitious nonsense connected with this mountain," he said. "The actual descent may not be all that difficult."

Tinn took a long puff. "You're determined to give it a try?"

"I'm not saying we'll have to climb," Silvera told him. "There may be an easier, much easier way. I'm going to try to persuade our fat friend to pay for it."

"What easier way?" asked the weary-looking Chinese. "You don't mean flying, going in by copter?"

"And why not? I'm a fully accredited pilot... well, not accredited in this particular backward country, but a damn good flyer nevertheless."

"So was Gabe."

"We'll succeed where he failed," said the little dark man.

"So you say." Tinn threw his cigarette away into the brush.

CHAPTER NINE