Chapter XIV: The Valley of Doom

Biff was right about Li being worried. From the time he had arrived in Darjeeling, after a ride in from the airport at Bagdogra, Li’s worries had begun and stayed with him. He was wondering constantly how much he could tell the Brewsters if they asked him point-blank about Biff.

Biff’s mother, Martha Brewster, had met Likake Mahenili in Hawaii at the time Biff and Li had gone on their thrilling sea hunt together. The Brewster twins, eleven-year-old Ted and Monica, had met Li, too, and they were bubbling with delight at seeing him again.

Of course, they wanted to see their big brother, too, so they peppered Li with so many rapid-fire questions about Biff that Li hadn’t time to answer any of them, which turned out for the best. In a slightly reproving tone, Mrs. Brewster had suggested that the twins give their guest a chance to speak for himself.

Thanks to that breather, as Biff would have termed it, Li was able to state simply that Biff and Kamuka had gone directly to New Delhi in response to a message from Mr. Brewster.

“We heard from New Delhi, too,” Mrs. Brewster said. “Mr. Brewster’s company wired that he would be delayed and that Biff was being notified what to do.”

“I’ll bet Dad has taken Biff to see some super-special gold mines!” exclaimed Ted. “I wish he’d asked me along.”

“That must be it,” added Monica, “because Kamuka has been studying mining in Brazil. I’d like to have gone, too.”

“It’s nice to hear you two agree on something,” was Mrs. Brewster’s smiling comment, “but please notice that Likake isn’t sulking because he wasn’t taken on the trip. That’s the way a real grownup would act.”

Li didn’t mention that Biff had also received a wire from the Ajax Mining Company. He merely said that he was sure they would hear from Biff as soon as he reached New Delhi. As the days passed, the twins had a wonderful time with Li. Among other things, they went on a picnic to Tiger Hill, where they viewed Mt. Everest, the world’s highest peak, which towered more than 29,000 feet.

To Li, it was no more impressive than the 28,000-foot summit of Kanchenjunga, which could be seen from Darjeeling. But he reserved opinion on that and almost everything else, rather than start the twins speculating on what their brother Biff might think about it. The next step then would be—why hadn’t they heard from Biff, a question Li couldn’t answer.

Li was relieved when Biff’s wire came from Agra, because he honestly didn’t know why Biff had stopped there. But Li knew nothing yet of the postcard, which was still on its way when Mrs. Brewster’s brother, Charles Keene, flew in from Burma and stated that he had been summoned to Darjeeling by an official call from New Delhi.

With Charles Keene in the twin-engine Cessna was a burly, red-haired mechanic known as Muscles, who hailed from the State of Kentucky and was proud of it. The plane also brought a Burmese boy named Chuba, who had guided Biff across the border into China, to rescue Biff’s uncle when he had been a prisoner there. Biff had detailed those adventures to Li, who already regarded Chuba as an old friend.

So after a brief but hearty get-acquainted session, Li decided to confide in Chuba. They had taken a stroll to look at Kanchenjunga, which Li stated was the third highest mountain in the world. When Chuba asked what two were bigger, Li told him: Everest and K 2—known as Mt. Godwin-Austen—which was far north in Kashmir. Chuba shrugged at that.

“To me, Minya Konka looks bigger,” he asserted. “That’s the mountain Biff and I saw in China. Perhaps that is because we got a look at it from lower down.”

“Kamuka would say that about the Andes,” laughed Li. “To him, they would look bigger.” Seriously, he added, “That was while you were hunting for Biff’s Uncle Charlie?”

Chuba nodded.

“We may have to start a search for Biff’s father,” continued Li. “Biff only heard from him indirectly.”

Noting Chuba’s keen interest, Li told him all that had happened in Calcutta. He also mentioned his worry about whether or not he should inform Biff’s family as to those facts, or wait until he received direct word from Biff. Chuba promptly solved that problem.

“You have trouble,” Chuba told Li, “and Sahib Keene is trouble-shooter. If you don’t hear from Biff by tomorrow, I’ll talk to Sahib Keene. Then he will talk to you.”

They didn’t have to talk with Charles Keene the next day, for they talked to Biff himself instead. That was when the long distance call came from Judge Arista in New Delhi. Biff talked to his mother first, explaining the situation briefly. Then Judge Arista came on the wire, assuring Mrs. Brewster that all was probably well with her husband.

At the same time, Judge Arista stated that the trip to Chonsi was not only urgent but dangerous. Colonel Gorak confirmed that when he spoke both to Biff’s mother and his Uncle Charlie. But all agreed that the mission was imperative, and since it was necessary for Biff to accompany the party, the other boys should have their choice in the matter, too.

Their choice was unanimous. They all said they would go. Li and Chuba talked to Biff and told him that. Then Biff introduced Kamuka and Chandra to Chuba; and finally, he had Mike Arista on the line, having him meet both Li and Chuba. It was Uncle Charlie who ended that round robin.

“Let me get my instructions,” he insisted, taking the telephone from the boys at his end, “before the Indian government has to dig another gold mine to pay for this long distance call.”

Uncle Charlie not only took instructions; he was filled in on all the details of the Rajah’s ruby, otherwise known as the Light of the Lama, as well as Biff’s adventures since leaving Calcutta. Uncle Charlie went into all that for the benefit of the breathless listeners, who included his nephew Ted and his niece Monica. Then:

“We’re taking off today,” Charles Keene stated, “by way of Katmandu, the capital of Nepal. Then a big hop over to Leh. If bad weather delays us, we can meet the party somewhere between Leh and the Tibetan border. They’ve given me a list of locations where they will stop. So let’s get ready to go.”

That was meant for Li and Chuba, but Ted and Monica thought that they were included, for they jumped up and were rushing off to pack when their Uncle Charlie called them back.

“No, small fry!” he said. “You’re staying here!”

“Oh, no!” the twins wailed in one voice. “We both voted to go!”

“That vote was for teenagers only,” returned Uncle Charlie. “Somebody has to stay here and look after your mother. Besides, the Cessna only carries five passengers and we have four already: Li, Chuba, Muscles, and myself.”

“But if we’re small fry,” argued Monica, “the two of us would only count as one—”

“Or maybe you don’t want girls along,” interrupted Ted, “so in that case you can take just me.”

Monica turned on Ted at that and was pounding him to show how tough her fists could really be, when Uncle Charlie moved in and separated them as he said:

“Break it up! Muscles is so big he counts for two, so that makes five passengers already. Sorry, no more room!”

When they reached the airfield, Muscles had the plane all ready for the flight. The massive mechanic was standing guard and glaring suspiciously at any workers who came near the plane.

“That is Muscles’ way,” Charles Keene said approvingly. “With an international spy ring haunting an old gold mine and thugs trying to steal a ruby as a gift for the goddess Kali, almost anything could happen to any of us, anywhere!”

Then, with Charles Keene at the controls, the plane was climbing from the runway in the direction of the snow-capped Himalayas, where dozens of magnificent peaks seemed to grow into sight, to match huge Kanchenjunga and even more distant Everest.

The higher the plane rose, the more the mountains loomed above it. Avoiding those vast peaks, Charles Keene worked the plane above valleys and passes that formed openings in the massive barrier. The ranges rose skyward like great steps until the plane reached the fertile Katmandu Valley near the center of Nepal, a great green oasis in a vast desert of rocky crags and the perpetual snow of the surrounding Himalayas.

Katmandu was a colorful city of temples, pagodas, and palaces that rose from among lesser buildings and great open squares. The altitude was a little more than four thousand feet, and Charles Keene made a landing at the airfield to check on weather reports, while Muscles gave the plane another going over. From there, the plane took off westward, passing south of the great twin peaks of Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, gigantic sentinels twenty miles apart, with a deep valley tapering down to a river gorge between their five-mile summits.

“It’s too soon to head north,” decided Charles Keene, “even though that gap does look inviting. It would take us into Tibet, and we might have problems picking a course over into Kashmir. We’ll do better this way.”

This way took them out of Nepal, and soon they were flying over India again. There, Biff’s uncle finally swung to the north, and again the Himalayas loomed ahead. Then they were knifing through fleecy clouds at two hundred and fifty miles an hour, straight toward the disputed Tibetan border.

“This course will bring us into Leh,” Charles Keene declared, as the clouds began to thicken, “but we’d better get more altitude.”

A gigantic mass of solid, snowy white rose through a rift in the clouds. As the plane skimmed over it, they all drew a relieved breath.

“We nearly scraped frosting off cake,” Chuba said.

Charles Keene smiled, but a bit grimly, as he studied his chart again. Then:

“If that was Nanda Devi,” he declared, “we are away off course.” He turned to Muscles. “Is the altimeter right?” he asked.

“It was when I checked it last.”

“Then we aren’t climbing as we should.”

The plane droned on, in and out of cloud banks, above valleys filled with mist. Fortunately, no more mountains rose into their path, but clouds were thickening up ahead and the plane was not responding properly.

“We’re almost over the northern range,” Uncle Charlie said. “But tackling those cloud banks would be risky, and turning back would be worse. We’ll do better making a forced landing in one of those forgotten valleys.”

“Provided the visibility is good enough at landing level,” put in Muscles. “We may encounter ground fog.”

“That’s the chance we take,” Uncle Charlie conceded. “But I don’t think it has settled deeply yet.”

Coolly, Charles Keene zoomed over two low-lying mountain ranges, then banked his plane toward a wide space where a trace of green showed deep beneath the gathering mist. The white blanket thickened as he approached it, and the plane, as it descended, was swallowed completely in those swirling folds. The roar of the motor was muffled; then it, too, faded entirely.

Silence reigned again above the mist-filled valleys of the Himalayas, the strange, mysterious stillness that the mightiest of mountains had known since the dawn of time.