"You've got some idea," I yelled. 'Where did he go? Tell me or I'll break every one of your superstitious bones."
The man gestured to a small, shingle-roofed house about a hundred yards away. "Maybe he hide there," he said.
"He's not hiding, he's running," I yelled. I hauled back and let the man have a sharp crack across the face. He fell to the ground screaming more in fear of what might happen next than in pain.
"The river! The river!" he screamed. He pointed to the right, past the temple, and at once I remembered glimpsing the swift water at the edge of the village on one of my walks. I ran for it, passing women returning with their fresh washed clothes. At the river's edge I saw men looking downriver, and in the distance I spotted a log dugout being paddled by a bright saffron spot. Three of the men had drawn the inflated buffalo skins onto the shore, having just paddled across the river on the unique rafts. I grabbed one and a paddle and pushed it out onto the river, falling across it to lie with my body straddling the inflated skin. The animal's four legs jutted upwards and the whole thing looked somewhat like a four-poster bed floating upside down. But it was light and maneuverable and I found myself gaining on Ghotak's heavy log dugout. The current was swift, and we were downriver quickly, passing overhanging trees and sloping banks. The river curved, and I saw Ghotak disappear around the bend, glancing back to see me catching up to him. I paddled furiously, and the balloon-like buffalo skin almost skimmed over the top of the water. Rounding the bend, I saw the dugout at the shore and Ghotak clambering out of it. I headed for him and saw him draw his revolver. I was still a good distance away and a poor target, unless he was a lot better shot than I thought. But he wasn't trying for me, I found out. The slug hit the inflated skin and I heard the whoooosh of air escaping and I was in the water, swimming against the swift current.
Ghotak was off and running, and I was slowed once again by the wily monk. I cut across to the bank, feeling the current carrying me downstream as I swam. Reaching the shore, I pulled myself up, tossing off my soaked outer jacket. I clambered up the bank to see a stone house standing some fifty yards away and back from the shore. The windows were shuttered, and it looked deserted, but it was the only house around and I headed for it on the run, crouched over, trying to make myself less of a target. I had to cross completely open ground to get to it but there were no bullets sent winging at me, and I reached the house, yanking at the door. It opened and I went inside to find it was a kind of stable. Two burros and a loaded sled stood in the center of the place, the burros harnessed and ready to go.
"Where are you, Ghotak?" I called. "I know you're in here someplace." I moved forward cautiously, glancing up to see a second floor balcony above. Bales of hay were stored on what was a small second-story landing. Four stalls lined one end of the stable and two more of the sturdy Sherpa burros looked at me over the top of the wooden stalls. There was no sound but that of the restless shifting of the burros and I walked over to them. Heavy saddle bags hung from each animal and I opened one and reached in to draw out a handful of gold coins and Nepalese rupees. I went to the sled, and tore open the tarpaulin over the boxes and packs tied onto it. I ripped open one box. Jewels and precious stones stared back at me. Ghotak had been prepared for any eventuality, I saw, and was ready to move out and set up housekeeping with a bundle somewhere else.
But where the hell was he? Maybe, with me so close on his heels, he'd given up the idea of trying to flee with the stuff. I took out Wilhelmina and started up the short ladder that led to the second-floor landing, wondering why, if he were up there, he hadn't taken a shot at me. On the landing, I found only bales of hay but there were a lot of them, each one some five feet long and three feet wide, more than large enough for a man to hide behind. A narrow passage was open between the bales and I moved down it, Wilhelmina in hand, cautiously peering behind each bale as I passed it. Suddenly, from behind the very last of the bales at the end of the landing, I heard a noise and saw the flash of saffron move. Ghotak looked up for an instant and then flattened himself behind the bale. I went after him quickly and found out, too late, that he had set me up beautifully. My foot landed right on the spring mechanism of the animal trap and the vicious steel jaws crashed together on my leg. The excruciating pain shot up through my body and I dropped to one knee. Ghotak was up and I took a vicious kick in the face and fell backwards, my leg twisting in the heavy steel trap. Wilhelmina went skittering out of reach and I saw Ghotak's evil smile, his small eyes bright in final triumph.
He stood over me and laughed. "I could kill you, but that would be too easy for you," he said. "You have cost me a great deal. You shall not have an easy death." The trap was sending great stabbing pains up my leg but I tried kicking out at the monk with my other foot. I caught his shin and he backed away in pain, his eyes clouded.
"You are very much like a cobra," he said. "Always dangerous unless completely dead." I watched as he took out a packet of matches and lighted the bales of hay, going from one to the other until tongues of flame began to curl up around the corners of the bales. He smiled at me again and disappeared down the ladder. I sat up and looked down at the trap to see if I could pry open its steel jaws but I saw at once I was doomed. It was the land that, once sprung, only a metal key could unlock, releasing the powerful spring mechanism.
I could hear Ghotak below, starting to mount the lead burro. I dragged myself forward, past the smoking, burning bales. The chain on the trap was long enough to let me reach the edge of the landing. Ghotak was atop the burro and the door was open. I saw him kick the animal and the burro started to slowly move out. I let Hugo drop into my palm, raised myself on one knee, aimed and threw the stiletto with every bit of strength at my command. I saw it hit just where I'd aimed, the back of the monk's neck. As his head jerked upwards I saw the point of the stiletto jutting out the other side at his throat. He raised his hands and clawed at his neck, his fingers spasmodically twitching as he tried to find the handle of the stiletto. He had finally gotten one hand on it when his body stiffened and his hand fell away. He half turned in the saddle, his eyes glancing back and up to where I peered over the ledge, his mouth open, and then he fell heavily from the saddle to lay on the floor, staring upwards with the sightless eyes of the dead.
The smoke was growing heavy now, and the flames higher. I crawled back, following the chain to where it was attached to a wooden peg in the wall. I took a handkerchief and tied it around my face as the waves of smoke choked my lungs. The heat was becoming intense and the bales were starting to burn with fury. I kicked at the wall with my other foot and saw it was soft plaster. I dug frantically at the plaster surrounding the wooden peg, gouging out chunks of the material. The smoke was so thick now I could no longer see the roof above me. Luckily, it still had room to rise, and did not completely engulf me. I kept digging frantically, the face of death giving me strength and urgency beyond normality.
Finally, I put both feet against the wall and, straining every muscle, pulled on the chain attached to the peg. I felt it give. The pain of the trap on my leg was almost unbearable, but I pushed my legs hard against the wall again and pulled. The peg came out of the wall with the pop of a champagne cork and I fell backwards. Dragging the trap and the chain, I crawled across the floor, staying low to get air. The heat seared my face and the crackle of flames filled the stable. I found the ladder and half fell down it but I reached the bottom and crawled into the open. I lay there and drank in deep gulps of air. Finally, getting to my feet, I saw that the burros had moved out of the building, no doubt as soon as the flames had started. I dragged myself to where they were standing, managed to mount the lead burro and headed back to the village. I glanced back at the building. It was in flames now. Despite the terrible pain in my leg, I felt strangely satisfied and at peace, as though a lot had been put to rest by those flames.