What would happen when the shooting started? Could he get a shot past the yak's head? Doubtful. The damned thing kept sniffling and snuffling at him as though he were a long-lost relative. Solo also expected that the first shots would startle or anger the yak. Probably it would pick him up on its sharp, glittering horns and that would be that.
On the other side of the rock, the soldiers were whispering to one another. The yak's huge, sandpapery tongue licked Solo's cheek affectionately. Solo glanced desperately at Illya, who reached up and slapped the yak lightly on its hairy flank.
The yak reared back and trumpeted. The soldiers beyond the rock let out startled cries. The yak kicked up its rear hoofs, snorted, put its horned head down and went charging out toward the road.
Solo and Illya peered out again. The yak was lumbering toward the truck, driving the Chinese soldiers before it. As the animal ran, it kicked and scattered the shale. Just this side of the truck the yak stopped. It swung its head from side to side as if assessing the odds. Then it uttered one more low-register complaint, and clattered off among the rocks.
The scar-faced officer looked unhappy. The mystery of the disturbed shale had been explained to his satisfaction - and regret. He jabbered irritably in Chinese, ordering the soldiers back into the truck. As soon as the tailgate was in position, the officer banged his fist four times on the cab roof. The truck rolled forward. The angry officer began to scan the landscape again with his field glasses.
The other two trucks followed. When the last vehicle had vanished, Solo stood up and dried his damp cheeks with his sleeve. He was, he discovered, shaking.
They waited ten minutes, inserted their hands in their sleeves, bowed their heads and began to trudge along the road once more.
Two
Fifteen minutes later they followed the road around a singularly large rock. The plateau beyond was relatively level. Just ahead, a second rutted road intersected the one no which they were walking. This other road ran at right angles to the first. On a slight slope near the crossroad stood a collection of small sod huts. Their roofs were thatched with long, dried yellow strands of coarse grass or weed.
Several long-haired goats wandered near one of the building, which had a large open doorway.
Near the buildings, a person in black pantaloons, fur-lined boots and coat and a conical basket-weaving hat was working a particularly unproductive-looking patch of ground with a primitive hoe.
Solo's right hand gripped his pistol, out of sight inside the left sleeve of his robe. He and Illya advanced cautiously. At the edge of the patch of ground they halted, faces impassive under the deep coatings of dye.
The person with the hoe stopped working and turned. Napoleon Solo did a mental double take. The person was a girl, with a wide, appealing mouth and charmingly Oriental dark eyes. In spite of the woolly fatness of the coat she wore, it was possible to see the distinct and charming outline of a well-shaped bosom beneath. Solo bowed ceremoniously.
"May the god shine his face upon you," he said, though not in the local tongue. Solo spoke Interlingua, the international scientific language.
"He has done so already," the girl replied, also in Interlingua. "And he has caused a double blessing to rain in white billows from the heavens –"
"- on to the place where the earth blooms despite a wintry blast," Solo completed the code.
"Father? Father!" The girl ran toward the hut nearest the crossroads. Abruptly she wheeled around. "Oh, I'm sorry. Please come in." She hurried inside, calling, "Father, they've come."
Solo and Illya entered the rude-walled home. A fire burned brightly on a crude hearth. An elderly Tibetan with a seamed yellow face rose from a table and bowed. Like the girl, he wore heavy dark pantaloons, a fur-lined coat and boots. Although his hair and small beard were pure white, his cheeks glowed with vigorous color and his eyes were alert.
"Welcome, welcome to both of you," he said. He extended his hand, American-style.
"I'm Napoleon Solo. This is Illya Kuryakin."
"I am Ah Lan," said the old farmer in fairly good English. "This my daughter Mei."
The beautiful Tibetan girl bowed.
Ah Lan indicated several crude benches.
"While we warm ourselves at my humble fire of yak dung chips," he said, "my daughter will provide us with some kumis, made of fermented mare's milk. You will find it most palatable."
Mei brought the men earthenware cups containing a hideous-looking liquid. Solo glanced at the stuff and his stomach turned over.
Solo took a sip and fought a wince. "Delicious, delicious." He drank no more.
But Illya tossed off the whole mugful in a series of gargantuan gulps, smacked his lips loudly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Ah Lan looked delighted. Mei began to direct her admiring glances Illya's way.
Ah Lan immediately called for a refill for Illya, who was valiantly repressing a belch. Mei poured more of the drink from a goatskin with a spout. Solo smirked in delight as Illya forced himself to drink heartily again.
"You came from the sky in parachutes," Ah Lan said. "Thus I was informed by the short wave radio which I keep concealed, in my humble stable to the rear. Truly, the arm of the U.N.C.L.E. is long."
"So are the talons of THRUSH," Solo said
"How far is it to the valley?" asked Illya.
Ah Lan's face darkened. "The Valley of Ten Storms lies but seven or eight miles away. A day's trek under favorable circumstances. However, the way is very difficult."
"I suppose because THRUSH guards it well?" Solo said.
"No guards are needed," Mei put in. "During this time of the year, the only land route into the valley lies up the mountain at the far side of this plateau. There is a pass which is nearly impossible to negotiate because of the violent blizzards prevalent at this season. My honorable father and I have only reached the top of the pass once. We nearly froze to death before we were able to make our way down again."
"Pleasant prospect," Illya muttered, holding his dark-stained palms to the fire.
"How do the THRUSH people get in and out?" Solo wanted to know.
"I believe there is an airstrip within the green valley," Ah Lan replied.
"But you will guide us through the pass?"
"Though the way is hazardous," Ah Lan said, "I will." His expression grew thoughtful and sad. His eyes were turned toward the small, bright flames. "When members of the THRUSH organization came to this plateau, a year ago, they came disguised as Red Chinese soldiers. There was no airstrip in the valley then. It was a frozen waste. The THRUSH organization moved all of its construction and scientific equipment across this plateau by truck, on the very road which passes outside. They hauled the equipment over the pass in the spring season when the weather is most mild.
"At that time –" Ah Lan's voice dropped "- at that time I was blessed with two daughters. One day, while I toiled in the fields with Mei at my side, a truck load of THRUSH construction engineers stopped at this humble cottage. My other daughter was alone. The THRUSH men were full of drink. They fell upon her and –"
Ah Lan shuddered. His eyes reflected the dancing fire with fire of their own.
He went on: "My daughter was dead when I returned with Mei. From that moment, I dedicated myself to the destruction of the evil forces which turned the Valley of Ten Storms from a wasteland of ice to a green and fertile hell. Yes, Mr. Solo, Mei and I will guide you through the blizzards into the valley. We are both familiar with the use of automatic weapons. Perhaps we can be of assistance."