a circle, with the other fingers spread out.  “Dokee-okee, dog-man.”

 Colleen glanced at Exile.  “If I didn’t know better I’d think you two were related.”

Sonam was nothing if not efficient.  In the space of less than twenty minutes he had climbing ropes, grappling hooks, spikes, picks, and food all packed up.  He’d even managed to make a sign for Shag to wear which, in the local language, read, “Not a yeti.”  “Many people not read here,” he admitted, “But it help.”

 “How do you pack all this stuff so quick-ski?” asked Exile.

 “I not bring skis,” Sonam replied.  “We going up mountain, not down.”

 “No, he means how’d you get it all together so fast?” asked Hunter.

 Sonam smiled.  “Alan talk about you sometimes.  Tell me dog-men always come when there big danger.  So me know you come rescue.  Be ready.”

 Hunter nodded approvingly.  “Well, let’s hit the road.”

 Sonam stared at him.  “Why we strike road?” he asked.  “It not hurt us.  Road good.”

 Hunter’s face took on a slightly irked expression.  “Let’s go, OK?”

 Sonam nodded.  “Absolutely.  No time for things like hitting road.”

Their young guide led them up into the mountains, along rocky trails and narrow ledges.  At about five in the afternoon, a hard wind started to blow, whipping snow into their faces.  The dogs pressed on, Exile occasionally clearing the path ahead with bursts of heat vision.  At last Sonam stopped.  “This good place stop for night,” he smiled, leaning against the mountainside.

 The Rovers looked around.  “Good place?” echoed Blitz.  “You must be crazy.”

 “Yeah,” agreed Hunter.  “There’s no place to pitch our tents or build a fire.”

 At the mention of the word “fire,” Shag produced a handful of toasting forks and a package of marshmallows from his fur.  “Ra-re-ro-rah-reh-roo?” he gibbered.

 Colleen shook her head.  “No, no place for a fire.”

 Shag put the items back with a groan.

 “Who need tent?” asked Sonam.  Then he seemed to realize something.  “You not know?  I thought dogs would know.  Here, I show you.”  And he began to dig into the snow covering the side of the mountain.  He dug with such fervor that soon he was lost to sight.

 “Whoa, now there’s a kid who knows how to dig,” Hunter approved.

 “What is he looking for?” asked Blitz.

 Sonam appeared a moment later.  “Come in!” he replied.  “Much cold out here!”

 Blitz made a circling motion around one ear with his finger.  “I think this kid is a teensy bit kooky,” he confided.

 Sonam heard.  “No, I brought no cookies,” he replied.  “Alan may have some when we find, though.”  And with that, he disappeared back into the hole.

 The Rovers crawled through the tunnel he had dug, which hit the rocky side of the mountain and went up at an angle for a yard or two before it leveled out again.  Only now it was no longer snow in which they found themselves, but a large rocky cave.  It was about ten feet wide, at least thirty feet deep, and the ceiling was high enough for all of them to stand up.  What was most noticeable about it, though, was the smell.

 “Blimey!” muttered Colleen, pinching her muzzle.  “That’s aromatherapy for ya.”

 Blitz checked his feet.  “Wasn’t me,” he defended.

 “It reminds me of polar bear I once knew,” complained Exile.  Shag echoed the sentiment by digging in his fur and producing a clothespin, which he firmly attactched to his nose.

 Sonam was busy with something on the ground.  After some fiddling he struck two rocks together and ignited a rag-topped torch.  Holding it aloft, he pointed with his free hand.  “That what you smell,” he said, pointing to a pile of fur.  “Alan keep bear skins in cave, smell keep yetis away.  Cave safe.”

 Hunter wrinkled his nose.  “Well, it’s not what I’d call an air freshener, but I guess it works.”

 “How does this Alan chap know so much about yetis?” asked Colleen.

 Sonam shrugged.  “He say monks in mountain tell him.  Know much, make him good healer-man.”

 The Rovers set about rolling out their sleeping bags.  Hunter turned on an electric lantern so Hadji wouldn’t need to use the torch and fill the cave with smoke.  Sonam, meanwhile, had taken the bear skins and rearranged them into a makeshift bed, which he offered to Colleen.  “Alan say good to be kind to women,” he beamed, evidently proud of being such a good student of Alan.  “Him call it shovelry.”

 Colleen smiled, deciding not to comment on the fact that the word was actually “chivalry.”  She unrolled her sleeping bag on top of the hides while everyone else set theirs up around the cave.

 “Well, it’s not what I’d call five-star,” observed Hunter, “But I guess we’ll be okay.”

 Sonam stared at him.  “You talk like Alan.  I never understand why talk about stars.”  He gestured to the ceiling.  “In cave, never see any stars.”

 Hunter shook his head.  “I wonder if this is how Columbus felt when he first met the Indians.”

 Their young friend’s face twisted into a perplexed expression.  “Who Columbus?”

The team slept through the night, and Sonam awoke bright and early to urge the others out of their sleeping bags.  “Come!” he called.  “We find Alan now, yes?”

 The response on the first three was anemic at best.  Exile rolled over.  Shag rumbled a little and put a paw over his ear.  Blitz muttered something about his dream and was silent.

 Sonam sized up the matter and turned to Colleen, reasoning that his mother had always been an early riser so perhaps a lady dog would be the same.

 After shaking her by the shoulder a few times, he succeeded in rousing her.  She sat up, blinking and rubbing her eyes.  “Blimey,” she muttered, “Is it time to get up already?”

 “Yes,” answered Sonam.  “We must be going to find Alan now.”

 “Right,” agreed Colleen, pushing herself up and out of the bag.  She went first to Hunter, who was lightly snoring.  She shook him briefly, with little reaction.  Failing that, she decided on a more direct approach.  “Good morning, Huntie-Wuntie,” she said sweetly, pinching his nose shut.

 Hunter snerked, then sat bolt upright.  Once he got his bearings, he furrowed his brow in confusion at the two standing over him.  “What?” he asked.  Then he remembered.  “Oh yeah, the mission.”  Quickly he was out of his sleeping bag, placing both hands against his lower back and pushing forward as he approached Exile.  “Ugh, what I wouldn’t give for my old doggie bed,” he groaned.

 It took no more than five minutes to wake up the whole crew.  Exile got up with little reluctance, and Blitz lost all desire to stay in his sleeping bag after Exile froze the bottom end of it.  The real difficulty was Shag.  Shaking did nothing.  Freezing had no effect.  Even pinching his nose proved futile.

 “How we get shaggy dog-man awake?” asked Hadji.

 “Only one thing can wake Shag out of a snooze this deep,” answered Hunter.

 “Smelling salts?” ventured Colleen.

 “Russian opera music?” offered Exile.

 “Maybe a little nip?” Blitz asked hopefully, displaying just a bit of fang.

 “Nope.”  Hunter leaned over Shag’s head, whispered something, and was almost knocked flat as the sheepdog sat bolt upright.  “Raaawwwrr!” he growled.

 “What you say?” asked Sonam.

 Hunter smiled.  “I told him if he didn’t wake up we’d have breakfast without him.”

 “Ah ha, now there’s ya comedy,” Colleen cracked.

Breakfast, which Sonam insisted on providing, consisted of jerky and a pasty mash made from melted snow and some sort of grain he had in his pack.  The mash tasted a little like sweet corn and a little like oatmeal, and the jerky was… well difficult to describe.  Shag mumbled something after a bite of it.

 “What he say?” asked Sonam.

 Hunter swallowed a bite of his meat before answering.  “He wants to know what kind of jerky this is.”

 “The dry meat?” asked Sonam with a grin.  “You happier not ask.”

 “Why?” asked Blitz.  “It is nice and chewy.”

 Sonam smirked.  “Alan ask once.  I tell him, and his stomach say he not want it so bad.”

 The Rovers looked at each other, and by an unspoken unanimous vote decided not to ask what it was.  They also decided by the same vote to leave the rest of the meat to Hadji and instead try some more of the oatmeal.

They finished their breakfast and began hiking again.  None of the Rovers had a clue where they were, but Sonam led the way as confidently as if he were in his own backyard.  “He sometimes take this trail up to hidden place,” he said.

 “Where’s that?” asked Colleen.

 He shrugged.  “I not know.  He no tell anyone where hidden place is, only that it must be secret because it where the monks live.  Way be dangerous, yeti here.”

 If the way was dangerous, the lad showed little fear.  With virtually no effort, he navigated the tricky terrain, using the hooked end of his stick to pull himself up small ledges and the sharp end to anchor himself on the snow.  Suddenly he stopped, as still as if he had been frozen in place.  “I hear sound.”

 The Rovers looked around.  They hadn’t