Tired of the everyday grind? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you... Escape! Escape! Designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. You are high on the frozen slopes of the great mountain. Terrified and caught in a blizzard. While the thing for which you've been hunting has suddenly become the hunter. And if it finds you, then for you and your companions, there can be no escape. So listen now as Escape brings you Antony Ellis' exciting story, The Abominable Snowman. Our first bit of luck was when we hired our Sherpa guide, Nassang. That was in Darjeeling. When I told Nassang what we were after, he hesitated for a moment. And then he said... The Saibs have not come to climb Shomolongma? Oh no, we're a little late for that. It's already been done. The other two Saibs and myself are here for the reason I told you. Mehto Kangmi? That's right. The Saibs always hire me to climb the mountain with them. But never this. Are you afraid of them? I have seen one. You've seen one? Yes, many of us have seen them. Wait a minute. Alan. Yeah, what's up? I'm interviewing a Sherpa in here. He says he's seen one of the things. Where's Frank? Went out to get some tobacco. All right, come on in. I think this is our man. All right. Nassang, this is Mr. Ferris. Saib? Hello, Nassang. Nassang was telling me about what he'd seen. Go ahead, Nassang. It has a face that is evil. And when it saw me, it uttered a strange cry and bounded away. Sometimes leaping, sometimes running with great strides. It was dusk. And after a moment, I lost sight of it in the snow. Where were you? With the French expedition. It was at 19,000 feet on Xomolungma. How far were you from it? 30 feet, perhaps 35. You're sure it wasn't an ape? I am sure. There is no ape in the Himalaya to make such a trek. What about bears? These two I have been asked. But does a bear walk always upon its hind legs? That's enough for me. Alan? Yeah, he'll do. But if you want the job, Nassang, you're hired. You are going to try to capture a yeti? Yes. It will be a difficult thing. But I will serve with you. Yeti, wild man, netokongmi, abominable snowman. That's the name the natives had for the things, and Alan Ferris, Frank Davis and I were going to try to get one. We'd all done some climbing, but climbing was secondary here. Expeditions since the beginning of the 20th century had heard of the abominable snowman, observed their tracks, and one or two white men claimed to have seen them. Great ape, bear, monkey, wild men? We didn't know, but we were going to find out. Four weeks later, we were in the Rongbuk Valley for our interview at the monastery with the lama. The journey from our base had been uneventful. The weather was good and our spirits were high. From the lama's window, we could see the great peak of Everest in the distance. Why, gentlemen, do you desire to capture netokongmi? not-so Korea North Central And for this reason, then, you have formed the expedition? Yes. You are all familiar with climbing? Yes, we are. You would need to be. The Yeti move at high places, dangerous places, so my people tell me. Also, the monsoons are arriving in a short time. I understand that. Then do we have your permission to investigate in the valley and beyond? You have my permission. Thank you. There is one point, however. I must request that no wild animal or being in this valley be shot. Our religion does not allow it. We'll respect your wishes, sir. Now may I ask you one more thing? Of course, my son. Do you believe in the existence of Mehto Kangmi? I myself have never seen them, but I know that they live here, above the valley, on the goddess mother of the world. It is also true that at least five and possibly more inhabit the upper Rangbuk and its glaciers. Thank you. Do you have portals? Our guide, Nassang, is hiring them now. Yeah. I trust that he meets with good fortune. The old man with great dignity bowed slightly to us and we were dismissed. But I thought I saw the shadow of a smile on his lips as he turned away. And it wasn't long before I found out why. Nassang returned to us in our quarters and his face warned of bad news. Sir, I am unable to hire any porters. Why not? They know the purpose of the expedition. They know the purpose of the expedition. They will not go. Why? They are afraid. Of the snowmen? Yes. They live in peace with them. They wish no trouble. They are afraid. Well, all right. It will be rough, but we can't waste time talking them into it. The monsoons will be coming in a couple of weeks. It's not the same as climbing, Everest. We'll travel light, just the four of us, set up a base and start hunting. All right, with you for now. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. All right, with you, fellows. Yeah, sure. Nassang. I will go with you. I am not afraid. Good. Well, let's take a look at the map. Now, we'll each carry a capacity load. We should be able to make this point below the glacier in two days. That's 16,000 feet. And if our abominable snowmen are in the vicinity, we've got two weeks to find them. When do we start? Tomorrow. Good. That's it. Um, Paul. Yes, Frank? One thing. What do the natives mean when they say they don't want any trouble with the things? Superstition, probably. Oh, no, sir. It is not superstition. It is because the Yeti are cannibals. That is why the porters are afraid. The weather turned ugly the day we left the village. A cold Tibetan wind blew down from the west, and with our heavy packs, it took us much longer than we'd thought to arrive at the point just below the Rangbuk Glacier. We set up our camp and made ourselves as comfortable as we could. The next morning wasn't so bad. There was a heavy overcast, a promise of snow, and the peak of Everest looming over us was shrouded in clouds. The four of us sat in the tent looking at our charts and drinking hot tea. I figure it'd be easiest if we started at the east glacier. It's only about three miles from here, and where the weather is stinking as it is, we won't run too much of a risk. What do you think, Paul? Well, that sounds all right. What do you say we split up? You and the song, Alan and me. We'll work up on either side of the ridge here, and if we spot any tracks, fire two shots. Yeah, good enough. Now, the big thing, though, no matter what, don't shoot at the thing if you do see it. Okay? Okay. All right. If we lose touch with each other, we'll meet back here at five. All right, let's get going. We'd left the base at six that morning and the going was rough. Alan was pretty well shot by the time we got to the 17,000 foot mark. He was having a tough time breathing, and the wind had come up again. And with it, a fine powdery snow that blinded choked us. Hey, I got to take five. All right. Yeah, move over here, it might cut some of the wind. Oh, that's better. We might as well start back for the base. We couldn't see anything in this anyhow. You know, right now, I don't care what we're doing. This is good weather. Waiting till the monsoon start. No, not me. Cold. I've never been so cold in all my life. We stayed in the half shelter of an overhang for 10 minutes. The wind was quieter and the snow had lit up. I noticed that the tracks we'd made coming into the shelter were gone now, but we didn't have any worry finding our way back. I figured that Frank and Nassang had met pretty much the same thing on their side of the ridge, and we'd meet them at the base. So Alan and I picked ourselves up and started off. Boy, I thought I was in pretty good shape, but up here, boy, I'm nothing. Oh, Paul, I'm tired again. We'll just take it easy going down. You haven't got frostbite, have you? Not yet, but... What? The left there. Yeah. They're not our tracks, are they? Not unless you took your boots off on the way up. Must have just passed by. It must have seen us. Yeah. Come on. We were looking at a set of tracks newly made in the fresh snow, and they'd passed so close to our shelter that the thing must have known we were there. They weren't the tracks of a bear or an ape, but more like a splay-footed naked foot, the tracks of the abominable snowman. We will return to Escape in just a moment, but first, 30 million school children make their way back to class this year. There are just 10 million too many for existing school facilities. Contact Better Schools to West 45th Street, New York 19 for information on ending this menace to America's educational standards. And now, back to Escape. We began to follow the tracks, and for a while, perhaps 150 yards, it was easy. And then the thing made a leftward traverse down a deep slope. We could see the prince clearly angling with a sidestep as sure-footed as a mountain goat, except that it was walking on two legs. This way, Paul. Take it easy, Alan. It's getting steeper. Boy, that thing sure can climb. Hold up. Alan, hold it. And he dropped out of sight over the lip of the crevasse. We weren't roped together. I got as close as I dared to the edge. The loose snow crumbled away from my outstretched body, and I looked down into the blue-black darkness below, falling away into nothingness. He was gone, finished. All I could think of was the noise he'd made when he went over, surprised, angry, then silence. The crevasse might have been 500 feet or 5,000. Snow started to fall again. White flakes this time, and wet. I stood up, and across the gap 20 feet away, I saw the tracks of the thing continuing on and away until they became lost in the blank whiteness of the glacier. It had jumped and landed still upright on the opposite side. I went back to the base, and an hour later, Frank and Nassang returned. I told them, and we were quiet for a long time. Then? Well, are we going out again tomorrow? Why not? I just wanted to. We should go back. It is an omen. I tell you, he was going too fast. He didn't have a chance to see the crevasse. That's not an omen. It's bad sense. Maito Kangmi cannot be caught. We'll catch him. But there are only three of us. If we had a few more men... I tell you, the thing was so close that if we'd looked up at the right time, we'd have seen it. You think I'm going to give up now? Next time, we'll get it. There was no chance to get Alan out, huh? No. What if we went back? Listen, you think I don't want to? He's gone. I tried, but he's gone. Okay. Oh, okay. I wish that wind had let up. Maybe by morning. We'll try again tomorrow. It was cold that night, and somehow colder because Alan was gone. I heard Frank tossing around, and I knew he was thinking about a body broken and lonely, lost somewhere in a deep and dark place. In the morning, the three of us packed our gear, camera, food. It was a light pack. We started up again, this time to a crest above the ridge. It was tougher than it looked, and we weren't even halfway up before we had to rest. As I looked to the west, I saw clouds boiling up, not white, but somber, threatening. And below, the valley looked grim, ugly gray. And then the sun was gone, and we kept on going up. And then I had a strange feeling. It was nothing I could see, nothing I could hear, only a sensation of being watched, followed. Wait a minute. See something? No. I have felt it too, sir. Something following us? Yes. It is Maitokongmi. How do you know? It can be nothing else at this height. There is nothing else that lives. Maybe it's curious. No, don't turn around, Frank. Listen, when we get up to the crest, you too flop down, stay in sight of the slope here. What are you going to do? Move around the hump and watch. If it thinks we're all together, it may come close enough to give us a chance to get it. You better watch your step. It looks nasty. I will. Now, come on. It took us another 15 minutes to get up to the crest, and then Frank and Nusang hunched on the rest. They were in clear view of the slope we just ascended. I moved back out of sight and made my way toward the hump, which backed a long shelf on the north side of the crest. In a couple of minutes, I lost sight of them and of the slope. The wind had increased and the clouds had spread now to become an iron gray canopy over the mountain. It was getting colder again. I don't think it took over five minutes to reach my lookout point. And when I did, I had a perfect view of the ground we'd covered. There was nothing there. The men were out of sight. And I waited a minute, two. There was nothing until... It came, carrot on the wind, a cry and then shots. I scrambled back to where I'd left them. And when I got there, when I got there, Frank was lying on his back and I couldn't look at what was left of his face. There were terrible deep rints on his clothing and he was dead. Nusang lay huddled a few feet beyond, a gun in his hand. Sir. What is it? What? The metal can be from behind us before I could draw the gun. It has killed and it sprang at me. It is strong, sir, with the strength of ten men. All right. All right, can you sit up? My leg, it struck at me, my leg broken. I shot at it, but I missed. It jumped away and was gone. Okay. We'll have to figure out a way to get you down. We were four hours from camp and with Nusang practically helpless, it could well be four days or never. I buried Frank where he was lying and then began to work down the slope. Nusang was in great pain. He half slid and crawled as best he could. That part of it wasn't too bad. Then we were at the bottom and there was a ledge to climb. It took well over two hours to do that and we still had three miles of difficult terrain to cover. The stops became more frequent. Sir, leave me here. Go back. No. My leg is frozen. There is no feeling anymore. I shall not live much longer. Don't be a fool. After a rest, you'll be able to go on. Soon the night comes. If we are both caught here, we both die. There will be snow, much snow. Leave me, sir. No, we're going back together. Please let me sleep. Let me sleep here. I cannot go on. You've got to, Nusang. No, no more. The ridge is only about a half mile from there. It won't be too bad. No, no, let me stay. Nusang. Let me sleep. No, no, come on, Nusang. Come on, you're not going to sleep. Nusang. You'll be all right. Sir, behind you, sir. I turned and for an instant I saw it outlined against the snow crotching of medium height. It was covered with thick hair. The face was reddish and bare, a semi-human face, and it was not an ape. The thing made a tremendous leap and was gone, but I did it. I knew I hit it. But the kongmi, that was he. Did you kill it? No, I don't think so. Then it will be back. It has tested blood. You must leave me. No, get up. Get up. Come on. Let's go. Nusang. I'm very sorry, sir. Will you ask me to leave? I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Will you ask the lama to make a prayer for me? Sure. Sure I will, Nusang. But give my prayer to my wife and daddy healing. I'm sorry, sir. I die. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. Nusang. And the darkness came, and with its shadows in the snow, every hillock mound became the thing motionless waiting. In my mind I kept seeing its long arms, powerful, and the dreadful claws it must have possessed. I carried my gun in my gloved hand, but I knew that I couldn't fire it unless I was barehanded, and that meant my hand would freeze to the gun. And then suddenly I felt myself slipping. It was a short incline, but when I reached the bottom, the gun was gone. I'd lost it. I've got to find it. I've got to find it. I saw a glint of metal in the snow ten feet away, and at the same time above me at the top of the bank, the thing, it stood swaying a little, looking down at me. I moved slowly, slowly, inch my way toward the gun, and as I drew closer I kept my eyes looking up, but it didn't move, only stared down at me. And I thought I saw its little eyes glittering. And I thought, if the gun's frozen now, if it's frozen, it doesn't fire. And I was nearer to it, near enough to tick off my glove. But that moment in which I'd have to bend to pick it up, that's when it would leap down at me, tear my throat out, tear, and I had the gun, and I pulled the trigger. And it lay there, strange and terrifying, its blood staining the snow. And it looked at me, looked at me, until the sound died away. It was dead, but the eyes kept on staring. It must have been the shots that loosened the snow and ice on the ridge above. I heard the sound, and I ran, ran. It passed me and swept on down toward the valley, the thunder of it dying in the distance. And when I went back, there was nothing there. It was buried somewhere under tons of snow. I made my way back to the wrong book village. I don't remember how. I didn't remember anything for two weeks after. But I'm alive, and I'm not going back there again. That's all I know. Who want to know about the Abominable Snowman? Escape has brought you The Abominable Snowman, written and directed by Anthony Ellis, starring William Conrad as Lane. Featured in the cast were Anthony Barrett, Pye Averback, Jack Crushen, and Edgar Berrier. The special music for Escape was composed and conducted by Leith Stevens. Next week. You are a passenger aboard a submarine making its last peaceful voyage across the sea. Still unknown to you, the captain has a plan, which if it succeeds will mean for you and the entire crew a fate from which there can be no escape. So listen next week when Escape will bring you Marian Mosner and Frances Rosenwald's exciting story, The Log. You're headed in the right direction. The station is right. The network is right too. Check all timepieces and then check your local radio schedule. Let's have no slip ups. Everybody wants to hear the Jack Benny show right from the beginning when it returns to CBS radio tonight. This is Roy Rowan speaking. This is the CBS radio network. Okay. you
