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Tarzan of the Apes by
Edgar Rice Burroughs
Chapter XIII
His Own Kind
The following morning, Tarzan, lame and sore from the wounds of his
battle with Terkoz, set out toward the west and the seacoast.
He traveled very slowly, sleeping in the jungle at night, and reaching
his cabin late the following morning.
For several days he moved about but little, only enough to gather what
fruits and nuts he required to satisfy the demands of hunger.
In ten days he was quite sound again, except for a terrible,
half-healed scar, which, starting above his left eye ran across the top
of his head, ending at the right ear. It was the mark left by Terkoz
when he had torn the scalp away.
During his convalescence Tarzan tried to fashion a mantle from the skin
of Sabor, which had lain all this time in the cabin. But he found the
hide had dried as stiff as a board, and as he knew naught of tanning,
he was forced to abandon his cherished plan.
Then he determined to filch what few garments he could from one of the
black men of Mbonga's village, for Tarzan of the Apes had decided to
mark his evolution from the lower orders in every possible manner, and
nothing seemed to him a more distinguishing badge of manhood than
ornaments and clothing.
To this end, therefore, he collected the various arm and leg ornaments
he had taken from the black warriors who had succumbed to his swift and
silent noose, and donned them all after the way he had seen them worn.
About his neck hung the golden chain from which depended the diamond
encrusted locket of his mother, the Lady Alice. At his back was a
quiver of arrows slung from a leathern shoulder belt, another piece of
loot from some vanquished black.
About his waist was a belt of tiny strips of rawhide fashioned by
himself as a support for the home-made scabbard in which hung his
father's hunting knife. The long bow which had been Kulonga's hung
over his left shoulder.
The young Lord Greystoke was indeed a strange and war-like figure, his
mass of black hair falling to his shoulders behind and cut with his
hunting knife to a rude *** upon his forehead, that it might not fall
before his eyes.
His straight and perfect figure, muscled as the best of the ancient
Roman gladiators must have been muscled, and yet with the soft and
sinuous curves of a Greek god, told at a glance the wondrous
combination of enormous strength with suppleness and speed.
A personification, was Tarzan of the Apes, of the primitive man, the
hunter, the warrior.
With the noble poise of his handsome head upon those broad shoulders,
and the fire of life and intelligence in those fine, clear eyes, he
might readily have typified some demigod of a wild and warlike bygone
people of his ancient forest.
But of these things Tarzan did not think. He was worried because he
had not clothing to indicate to all the jungle folks that he was a man
and not an ape, and grave doubt often entered his mind as to whether he
might not yet become an ape.
Was not hair commencing to grow upon his face? All the apes had hair
upon theirs but the black men were entirely hairless, with very few
exceptions.
True, he had seen pictures in his books of men with great masses of
hair upon lip and cheek and chin, but, nevertheless, Tarzan was afraid.
Almost daily he whetted his keen knife and scraped and whittled at his
young beard to eradicate this degrading emblem of apehood.
And so he learned to shave–rudely and painfully, it is true–but,
nevertheless, effectively.
When he felt quite strong again, after his bloody battle with Terkoz,
Tarzan set off one morning towards Mbonga's village. He was moving
carelessly along a winding jungle trail, instead of making his progress
through the trees, when suddenly he came face to face with a black
warrior.
The look of surprise on the savage face was almost comical, and before
Tarzan could unsling his bow the fellow had turned and fled down the
path crying out in alarm as though to others before him.
Tarzan took to the trees in pursuit, and in a few moments came in view
of the men desperately striving to escape.
There were three of them, and they were racing madly in single file
through the dense undergrowth.
Tarzan easily distanced them, nor did they see his silent passage above
their heads, nor note the crouching figure squatted upon a low branch
ahead of them beneath which the trail led them.
Tarzan let the first two pass beneath him, but as the third came
swiftly on, the quiet noose dropped about the black throat. A quick
jerk drew it taut.
There was an agonized scream from the victim, and his fellows turned to
see his struggling body rise as by magic slowly into the dense foliage
of the trees above.
With frightened shrieks they wheeled once more and plunged on in their
efforts to escape.
Tarzan dispatched his prisoner quickly and silently; removed the
weapons and ornaments, and–oh, the greatest joy of all–a handsome
deerskin breechcloth, which he quickly transferred to his own person.
Now indeed was he dressed as a man should be. None there was who could
now doubt his high origin. How he should have liked to have returned
to the tribe to parade before their envious gaze this wondrous finery.
Taking the body across his shoulder, he moved more slowly through the
trees toward the little palisaded village, for he again needed arrows.
As he approached quite close to the enclosure he saw an excited group
surrounding the two fugitives, who, trembling with fright and
exhaustion, were scarce able to recount the uncanny details of their
adventure.
Mirando, they said, who had been ahead of them a short distance, had
suddenly come screaming toward them, crying that a terrible white and
naked warrior was pursuing him. The three of them had hurried toward
the village as rapidly as their legs would carry them.
Again Mirando's shrill cry of mortal terror had caused them to look
back, and there they had seen the most horrible sight–their
companion's body flying upwards into the trees, his arms and legs
beating the air and his tongue protruding from his open mouth. No
other sound did he utter nor was there any creature in sight about him.
The villagers were worked up into a state of fear bordering on panic,
but wise old Mbonga affected to feel considerable skepticism regarding
the tale, and attributed the whole fabrication to their fright in the
face of some real danger.
"You tell us this great story," he said, "because you do not dare to
speak the truth. You do not dare admit that when the lion sprang upon
Mirando you ran away and left him. You are cowards."
Scarcely had Mbonga ceased speaking when a great crashing of branches
in the trees above them caused the blacks to look up in renewed terror.
The sight that met their eyes made even wise old Mbonga shudder, for
there, turning and twisting in the air, came the dead body of Mirando,
to sprawl with a sickening reverberation upon the ground at their feet.
With one accord the blacks took to their heels; nor did they stop until
the last of them was lost in the dense shadows of the surrounding
jungle.
Again Tarzan came down into the village and renewed his supply of
arrows and ate of the offering of food which the blacks had made to
appease his wrath.
Before he left he carried the body of Mirando to the gate of the
village, and propped it up against the palisade in such a way that the
dead face seemed to be peering around the edge of the gatepost down the
path which led to the jungle.
Then Tarzan returned, hunting, always hunting, to the cabin by the
beach.
It took a dozen attempts on the part of the thoroughly frightened
blacks to reenter their village, past the horrible, grinning face of
their dead fellow, and when they found the food and arrows gone they
knew, what they had only too well feared, that Mirando had seen the
evil spirit of the jungle.
That now seemed to them the logical explanation. Only those who saw
this terrible god of the jungle died; for was it not true that none
left alive in the village had ever seen him? Therefore, those who had
died at his hands must have seen him and paid the penalty with their
lives.
As long as they supplied him with arrows and food he would not harm
them unless they looked upon him, so it was ordered by Mbonga that in
addition to the food offering there should also be laid out an offering
of arrows for this Munan-go-Keewati, and this was done from then on.
If you ever chance to pass that far off African village you will still
see before a tiny thatched hut, built just without the village, a
little iron pot in which is a quantity of food, and beside it a quiver
of well-daubed arrows.
When Tarzan came in sight of the beach where stood his cabin, a strange
and unusual spectacle met his vision.
On the placid waters of the landlocked harbor floated a great ship, and
on the beach a small boat was drawn up.
But, most wonderful of all, a number of white men like himself were
moving about between the beach and his cabin.
Tarzan saw that in many ways they were like the men of his picture
books. He crept closer through the trees until he was quite close
above them.
There were ten men, swarthy, sun-tanned, villainous looking fellows.
Now they had congregated by the boat and were talking in loud, angry
tones, with much gesticulating and shaking of fists.
Presently one of them, a little, mean-faced, black-bearded fellow with
a countenance which reminded Tarzan of Pamba, the rat, laid his hand
upon the shoulder of a giant who stood next him, and with whom all the
others had been arguing and quarreling.
The little man pointed inland, so that the giant was forced to turn
away from the others to look in the direction indicated. As he turned,
the little, mean-faced man drew a revolver from his belt and shot the
giant in the back.
The big fellow threw his hands above his head, his knees bent beneath
him, and without a sound he tumbled forward upon the beach, dead.
The report of the weapon, the first that Tarzan had ever heard, filled
him with wonderment, but even this unaccustomed sound could not startle
his healthy nerves into even a semblance of panic.
The conduct of the white strangers it was that caused him the greatest
perturbation. He puckered his brows into a frown of deep thought. It
was well, thought he, that he had not given way to his first impulse to
rush forward and greet these white men as brothers.
They were evidently no different from the black men–no more civilized
than the apes–no less cruel than Sabor.
For a moment the others stood looking at the little, mean-faced man and
the giant lying dead upon the beach.
Then one of them laughed and slapped the little man upon the back.
There was much more talk and gesticulating, but less quarreling.
Presently they launched the boat and all jumped into it and rowed away
toward the great ship, where Tarzan could see other figures moving
about upon the deck.
When they had clambered aboard, Tarzan dropped to earth behind a great
tree and crept to his cabin, keeping it always between himself and the
ship.
Slipping in at the door he found that everything had been ransacked.
His books and pencils strewed the floor. His weapons and shields and
other little store of treasures were littered about.
As he saw what had been done a great wave of anger surged through him,
and the new made scar upon his forehead stood suddenly out, a bar of
inflamed crimson against his tawny hide.
Quickly he ran to the cupboard and searched in the far recess of the
lower shelf. Ah! He breathed a sigh of relief as he drew out the
little tin box, and, opening it, found his greatest treasures
undisturbed.
The photograph of the smiling, strong-faced young man, and the little
black puzzle book were safe.
What was that?
His quick ear had caught a faint but unfamiliar sound.
Running to the window Tarzan looked toward the harbor, and there he saw
that a boat was being lowered from the great ship beside the one
already in the water. Soon he saw many people clambering over the
sides of the larger vessel and dropping into the boats. They were
coming back in full force.
For a moment longer Tarzan watched while a number of boxes and bundles
were lowered into the waiting boats, then, as they shoved off from the
ship's side, the ape-man snatched up a piece of paper, and with a
pencil printed on it for a few moments until it bore several lines of
strong, well-made, almost letter-perfect characters.
This notice he stuck upon the door with a small sharp splinter of wood.
Then gathering up his precious tin box, his arrows, and as many bows
and spears as he could carry, he hastened through the door and
disappeared into the forest.
When the two boats were beached upon the silvery sand it was a strange
assortment of humanity that clambered ashore.
Some twenty souls in all there were, fifteen of them rough and
villainous appearing ***.
The others of the party were of different stamp.
One was an elderly man, with white hair and large rimmed spectacles.
His slightly stooped shoulders were draped in an ill-fitting, though
immaculate, frock coat, and a shiny silk hat added to the incongruity
of his garb in an African jungle.
The second member of the party to land was a tall young man in white
ducks, while directly behind came another elderly man with a very high
forehead and a fussy, excitable manner.
After these came a huge Negress clothed like Solomon as to colors. Her
great eyes rolled in evident terror, first toward the jungle and then
toward the cursing band of sailors who were removing the bales and
boxes from the boats.
The last member of the party to disembark was a girl of about nineteen,
and it was the young man who stood at the boat's prow to lift her high
and dry upon land. She gave him a brave and pretty smile of thanks,
but no words passed between them.
In silence the party advanced toward the cabin. It was evident that
whatever their intentions, all had been decided upon before they left
the ship; and so they came to the door, the sailors carrying the boxes
and bales, followed by the five who were of so different a class. The
men put down their burdens, and then one caught sight of the notice
which Tarzan had posted.
"Ho, mates!" he cried. "What's here? This sign was not posted an hour
ago or I'll eat the cook."
The others gathered about, craning their necks over the shoulders of
those before them, but as few of them could read at all, and then only
after the most laborious fashion, one finally turned to the little old
man of the top hat and frock coat.
"Hi, perfesser," he called, "step for'rd and read the bloomin' notis."
Thus addressed, the old man came slowly to where the sailors stood,
followed by the other members of his party. Adjusting his spectacles
he looked for a moment at the placard and then, turning away, strolled
off muttering to himself: "Most remarkable–most remarkable!"
"Hi, old fossil," cried the man who had first called on him for
assistance, "did je think we wanted of you to read the bloomin' notis
to yourself? Come back here and read it out loud, you old barnacle."
The old man stopped and, turning back, said: "Oh, yes, my dear sir, a
thousand pardons. It was quite thoughtless of me, yes–very
thoughtless. Most remarkable–most remarkable!"
Again he faced the notice and read it through, and doubtless would have
turned off again to ruminate upon it had not the sailor grasped him
roughly by the collar and howled into his ear.
"Read it out loud, you blithering old idiot."
"Ah, yes indeed, yes indeed," replied the professor softly, and
adjusting his spectacles once more he read aloud:
THIS IS THE HOUSE OF TARZAN, THE KILLER OF BEASTS AND MANY BLACK
MEN. DO NOT HARM THE THINGS WHICH ARE TARZAN'S. TARZAN WATCHES.
TARZAN OF THE APES.
"Who the devil is Tarzan?" cried the sailor who had before spoken.
"He evidently speaks English," said the young man.
"But what does 'Tarzan of the Apes' mean?" cried the girl.
"I do not know, Miss Porter," replied the young man, "unless we have
discovered a runaway simian from the London Zoo who has brought back a
European education to his jungle home. What do you make of it,
Professor Porter?" he added, turning to the old man.
Professor Archimedes Q. Porter adjusted his spectacles.
"Ah, yes, indeed; yes indeed–most remarkable, most remarkable!" said
the professor; "but I can add nothing further to what I have already
remarked in elucidation of this truly momentous occurrence," and the
professor turned slowly in the direction of the jungle.
"But, papa," cried the girl, "you haven't said anything about it yet."
"Tut, tut, child; tut, tut," responded Professor Porter, in a kindly
and indulgent tone, "do not trouble your pretty head with such weighty
and abstruse problems," and again he wandered slowly off in still
another direction, his eyes bent upon the ground at his feet, his hands
clasped behind him beneath the flowing tails of his coat.
"I reckon the daffy old bounder don't know no more'n we do about it,"
growled the rat-faced sailor.
"Keep a civil tongue in your head," cried the young man, his face
paling in anger, at the insulting tone of the sailor. "You've murdered
our officers and robbed us. We are absolutely in your power, but
you'll treat Professor Porter and Miss Porter with respect or I'll
break that vile neck of yours with my bare hands–guns or no guns," and
the young fellow stepped so close to the rat-faced sailor that the
latter, though he bore two revolvers and a villainous looking knife in
his belt, slunk back abashed.
"You damned coward," cried the young man. "You'd never dare shoot a
man until his back was turned. You don't dare shoot me even then," and
he deliberately turned his back full upon the sailor and walked
nonchalantly away as if to put him to the test.
The sailor's hand crept slyly to the butt of one of his revolvers; his
wicked eyes glared vengefully at the retreating form of the young
Englishman. The gaze of his fellows was upon him, but still he
hesitated. At heart he was even a greater coward than Mr. William
Cecil Clayton had imagined.
Two keen eyes had watched every move of the party from the foliage of a
nearby tree. Tarzan had seen the surprise caused by his notice, and
while he could understand nothing of the spoken language of these
strange people their gestures and facial expressions told him much.
The act of the little rat-faced sailor in killing one of his comrades
had aroused a strong dislike in Tarzan, and now that he saw him
quarreling with the fine-looking young man his animosity was still
further stirred.
Tarzan had never seen the effects of a firearm before, though his books
had taught him something of them, but when he saw the rat-faced one
fingering the butt of his revolver he thought of the scene he had
witnessed so short a time before, and naturally expected to see the
young man murdered as had been the huge sailor earlier in the day.
So Tarzan fitted a poisoned arrow to his bow and drew a bead upon the
rat-faced sailor, but the foliage was so thick that he soon saw the
arrow would be deflected by the leaves or some small branch, and
instead he launched a heavy spear from his lofty perch.
Clayton had taken but a dozen steps. The rat-faced sailor had half
drawn his revolver; the other sailors stood watching the scene intently.
Professor Porter had already disappeared into the jungle, whither he
was being followed by the fussy Samuel T. Philander, his secretary and
assistant.
Esmeralda, the Negress, was busy sorting her mistress' baggage from the
pile of bales and boxes beside the cabin, and Miss Porter had turned
away to follow Clayton, when something caused her to turn again toward
the sailor.
And then three things happened almost simultaneously. The sailor
*** out his weapon and leveled it at Clayton's back, Miss Porter
screamed a warning, and a long, metal-shod spear shot like a bolt from
above and passed entirely through the right shoulder of the rat-faced
man.
The revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and the *** crumpled up
with a scream of pain and terror.
Clayton turned and rushed back toward the scene. The sailors stood in
a frightened group, with drawn weapons, peering into the jungle. The
wounded man writhed and shrieked upon the ground.
Clayton, unseen by any, picked up the fallen revolver and slipped it
inside his shirt, then he joined the sailors in gazing, mystified, into
the jungle.
"Who could it have been?" whispered Jane Porter, and the young man
turned to see her standing, wide-eyed and wondering, close beside him.
"I dare say Tarzan of the Apes is watching us all right," he answered,
in a dubious tone. "I wonder, now, who that spear was intended for.
If for Snipes, then our ape friend is a friend indeed.
"By jove, where are your father and Mr. Philander? There's someone or
something in that jungle, and it's armed, whatever it is. Ho!
Professor! Mr. Philander!" young Clayton shouted. There was no
response.
"What's to be done, Miss Porter?" continued the young man, his face
clouded by a frown of worry and indecision.
"I can't leave you here alone with these cutthroats, and you certainly
can't venture into the jungle with me; yet someone must go in search of
your father. He is more than apt to wandering off aimlessly,
regardless of danger or direction, and Mr. Philander is only a trifle
less impractical than he. You will pardon my bluntness, but our lives
are all in jeopardy here, and when we get your father back something
must be done to impress upon him the dangers to which he exposes you as
well as himself by his absent-mindedness."
"I quite agree with you," replied the girl, "and I am not offended at
all. Dear old papa would sacrifice his life for me without an
instant's hesitation, provided one could keep his mind on so frivolous
a matter for an entire instant. There is only one way to keep him in
safety, and that is to chain him to a tree. The poor dear is SO
impractical."
"I have it!" suddenly exclaimed Clayton. "You can use a revolver,
can't you?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I have one. With it you and Esmeralda will be comparatively safe in
this cabin while I am searching for your father and Mr. Philander.
Come, call the woman and I will hurry on. They can't have gone far."
Jane did as he suggested and when he saw the door close safely behind
them Clayton turned toward the jungle.
Some of the sailors were drawing the spear from their wounded comrade
and, as Clayton approached, he asked if he could borrow a revolver from
one of them while he searched the jungle for the professor.
The rat-faced one, finding he was not dead, had regained his composure,
and with a volley of oaths directed at Clayton refused in the name of
his fellows to allow the young man any firearms.
This man, Snipes, had assumed the role of chief since he had killed
their former leader, and so little time had elapsed that none of his
companions had as yet questioned his authority.
Clayton's only response was a shrug of the shoulders, but as he left
them he picked up the spear which had transfixed Snipes, and thus
primitively armed, the son of the then Lord Greystoke strode into the
dense jungle.
Every few moments he called aloud the names of the wanderers. The
watchers in the cabin by the beach heard the sound of his voice growing
ever fainter and fainter, until at last it was swallowed up by the
myriad noises of the primeval wood.
When Professor Archimedes Q. Porter and his assistant, Samuel T.
Philander, after much insistence on the part of the latter, had finally
turned their steps toward camp, they were as completely lost in the
wild and tangled labyrinth of the matted jungle as two human beings
well could be, though they did not know it.
It was by the merest caprice of fortune that they headed toward the
west coast of Africa, instead of toward Zanzibar on the opposite side
of the dark continent.
When in a short time they reached the beach, only to find no camp in
sight, Philander was positive that they were north of their proper
destination, while, as a matter of fact they were about two hundred
yards south of it.
It never occurred to either of these impractical theorists to call
aloud on the chance of attracting their friends' attention. Instead,
with all the assurance that deductive reasoning from a wrong premise
induces in one, Mr. Samuel T. Philander grasped Professor Archimedes Q.
Porter firmly by the arm and hurried the weakly protesting old
gentleman off in the direction of Cape Town, fifteen hundred miles to
the south.
When Jane and Esmeralda found themselves safely behind the cabin door
the Negress's first thought was to barricade the portal from the
inside. With this idea in mind she turned to search for some means of
putting it into execution; but her first view of the interior of the
cabin brought a shriek of terror to her lips, and like a frightened
child the huge woman ran to bury her face on her mistress' shoulder.
Jane, turning at the cry, saw the cause of it lying prone upon the
floor before them–the whitened skeleton of a man. A further glance
revealed a second skeleton upon the bed.
"What horrible place are we in?" murmured the awe-struck girl. But
there was no panic in her fright.
At last, disengaging herself from the frantic clutch of the still
shrieking Esmeralda, Jane crossed the room to look into the little
cradle, knowing what she should see there even before the tiny skeleton
disclosed itself in all its pitiful and pathetic frailty.
What an awful tragedy these poor mute bones proclaimed! The girl
shuddered at thought of the eventualities which might lie before
herself and her friends in this ill-fated cabin, the haunt of
mysterious, perhaps hostile, beings.
Quickly, with an impatient stamp of her little foot, she endeavored to
shake off the gloomy forebodings, and turning to Esmeralda bade her
cease her wailing.
"Stop, Esmeralda, stop it this minute!" she cried. "You are only
making it worse."
She ended lamely, a little quiver in her own voice as she thought of
the three men, upon whom she depended for protection, wandering in the
depth of that awful forest.
Soon the girl found that the door was equipped with a heavy wooden bar
upon the inside, and after several efforts the combined strength of the
two enabled them to slip it into place, the first time in twenty years.
Then they sat down upon a bench with their arms about one another, and
waited.
Chapter XIV
At the Mercy of the Jungle
After Clayton had plunged into the jungle, the sailors–mutineers of
the Arrow–fell into a discussion of their next step; but on one point
all were agreed–that they should hasten to put off to the anchored
Arrow, where they could at least be safe from the spears of their
unseen foe. And so, while Jane Porter and Esmeralda were barricading
themselves within the cabin, the cowardly crew of cutthroats were
pulling rapidly for their ship in the two boats that had brought them
ashore.
So much had Tarzan seen that day that his head was in a whirl of
wonder. But the most wonderful sight of all, to him, was the face of
the beautiful white girl.
Here at last was one of his own kind; of that he was positive. And the
young man and the two old men; they, too, were much as he had pictured
his own people to be.
But doubtless they were as ferocious and cruel as other men he had
seen. The fact that they alone of all the party were unarmed might
account for the fact that they had killed no one. They might be very
different if provided with weapons.
Tarzan had seen the young man pick up the fallen revolver of the
wounded Snipes and hide it away in his breast; and he had also seen him
slip it cautiously to the girl as she entered the cabin door.
He did not understand anything of the motives behind all that he had
seen; but, somehow, intuitively he liked the young man and the two old
men, and for the girl he had a strange longing which he scarcely
understood. As for the big black woman, she was evidently connected in
some way to the girl, and so he liked her, also.
For the sailors, and especially Snipes, he had developed a great
hatred. He knew by their threatening gestures and by the expression
upon their evil faces that they were enemies of the others of the
party, and so he decided to watch closely.
Tarzan wondered why the men had gone into the jungle, nor did it ever
occur to him that one could become lost in that maze of undergrowth
which to him was as simple as is the main street of your own home town
to you.
When he saw the sailors row away toward the ship, and knew that the
girl and her companion were safe in his cabin, Tarzan decided to follow
the young man into the jungle and learn what his errand might be. He
swung off rapidly in the direction taken by Clayton, and in a short
time heard faintly in the distance the now only occasional calls of the
Englishman to his friends.
Presently Tarzan came up with the white man, who, almost ***, was
leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from his forehead. The
ape-man, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching this new
specimen of his own race intently.
At intervals Clayton called aloud and finally it came to Tarzan that he
was searching for the old man.
Tarzan was on the point of going off to look for them himself, when he
caught the yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the
jungle toward Clayton.
It was Sheeta, the leopard. Now, Tarzan heard the soft bending of
grasses and wondered why the young white man was not warned. Could it
be he had failed to note the loud warning? Never before had Tarzan
known Sheeta to be so clumsy.
No, the white man did not hear. Sheeta was crouching for the spring,
and then, shrill and horrible, there rose from the stillness of the
jungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and Sheeta turned,
crashing into the underbrush.
Clayton came to his feet with a start. His blood ran cold. Never in
all his life had so fearful a sound smote upon his ears. He was no
coward; but if ever man felt the icy fingers of fear upon his heart,
William Cecil Clayton, eldest son of Lord Greystoke of England, did
that day in the fastness of the African jungle.
The noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close
beside him, and the sound of that bloodcurdling shriek from above,
tested Clayton's courage to the limit; but he could not know that it
was to that very voice he owed his life, nor that the creature who
hurled it forth was his own cousin–the real Lord Greystoke.
The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Clayton, disheartened and
discouraged, was in a terrible quandary as to the proper course to
pursue; whether to keep on in search of Professor Porter, at the almost
certain risk of his own death in the jungle by night, or to return to
the cabin where he might at least serve to protect Jane from the perils
which confronted her on all sides.
He did not wish to return to camp without her father; still more, he
shrank from the thought of leaving her alone and unprotected in the
hands of the mutineers of the Arrow, or to the hundred unknown dangers
of the jungle.
Possibly, too, he thought, the professor and Philander might have
returned to camp. Yes, that was more than likely. At least he would
return and see, before he continued what seemed to be a most fruitless
quest. And so he started, stumbling back through the thick and matted
underbrush in the direction that he thought the cabin lay.
To Tarzan's surprise the young man was heading further into the jungle
in the general direction of Mbonga's village, and the shrewd young
ape-man was convinced that he was lost.
To Tarzan this was scarcely comprehensible; his judgment told him
that no man would venture toward the village of the cruel blacks armed
only with a spear which, from the awkward way in which he carried it,
was evidently an unaccustomed weapon to this white man. Nor was he
following the trail of the old men. That, they had crossed and left
long since, though it had been fresh and plain before Tarzan's eyes.
Tarzan was perplexed. The fierce jungle would make easy prey of this
unprotected stranger in a very short time if he were not guided quickly
to the beach.
Yes, there was Numa, the lion, even now, stalking the white man a dozen
paces to the right.
Clayton heard the great body paralleling his course, and now there rose
upon the evening air the beast's thunderous roar. The man stopped with
upraised spear and faced the brush from which issued the awful sound.
The shadows were deepening, darkness was settling in.
God! To die here alone, beneath the fangs of wild beasts; to be torn
and rended; to feel the hot breath of the brute on his face as the
great paw crushed down upon his breast!
For a moment all was still. Clayton stood rigid, with raised spear.
Presently a faint rustling of the bush apprised him of the stealthy
creeping of the thing behind. It was gathering for the spring. At
last he saw it, not twenty feet away–the long, lithe, muscular body
and tawny head of a huge black-maned lion.
The beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly. As its eyes
met Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately, cautiously gathered its
hind quarters behind it.
In agony the man watched, fearful to launch his spear, powerless to fly.
He heard a noise in the tree above him. Some new danger, he thought,
but he dared not take his eyes from the yellow green orbs before him.
There was a sharp twang as of a broken banjo-string, and at the same
instant an arrow appeared in the yellow hide of the crouching lion.
With a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang; but, somehow, Clayton
stumbled to one side, and as he turned again to face the infuriated
king of beasts, he was appalled at the sight which confronted him.
Almost simultaneously with the lion's turning to renew the attack a
half-naked giant dropped from the tree above squarely on the brute's
back.
With lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron muscle
encircled the huge neck, and the great beast was raised from behind,
roaring and pawing the air–raised as easily as Clayton would have
lifted a pet dog.
The scene he witnessed there in the twilight depths of the African
jungle was burned forever into the Englishman's brain.
The man before him was the embodiment of physical perfection and giant
strength; yet it was not upon these he depended in his battle with the
great cat, for mighty as were his muscles, they were as nothing by
comparison with Numa's. To his agility, to his brain and to his long
keen knife he owed his supremacy.
His right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand plunged
the knife time and again into the unprotected side behind the left
shoulder. The infuriated beast, pulled up and backwards until he stood
upon his hind legs, struggled impotently in this unnatural position.
Had the battle been of a few seconds' longer duration the outcome might
have been different, but it was all accomplished so quickly that the
lion had scarce time to recover from the confusion of its surprise ere
it sank lifeless to the ground.
Then the strange figure which had vanquished it stood erect upon the
carcass, and throwing back the wild and handsome head, gave out the
fearsome cry which a few moments earlier had so startled Clayton.
Before him he saw the figure of a young man, naked except for a loin
cloth and a few barbaric ornaments about arms and legs; on the breast a
priceless diamond locket gleaming against a smooth brown skin.
The hunting knife had been returned to its homely sheath, and the man
was gathering up his bow and quiver from where he had tossed them when
he leaped to attack the lion.
Clayton spoke to the stranger in English, thanking him for his brave
rescue and complimenting him on the wondrous strength and dexterity he
had displayed, but the only answer was a steady stare and a faint shrug
of the mighty shoulders, which might betoken either disparagement of
the service rendered, or ignorance of Clayton's language.
When the bow and quiver had been slung to his back the wild man, for
such Clayton now thought him, once more drew his knife and deftly
carved a dozen large strips of meat from the lion's carcass. Then,
squatting upon his haunches, he proceeded to eat, first motioning
Clayton to join him.
The strong white teeth sank into the raw and dripping flesh in apparent
relish of the meal, but Clayton could not bring himself to share the
uncooked meat with his strange host; instead he watched him, and
presently there dawned upon him the conviction that this was Tarzan of
the Apes, whose notice he had seen posted upon the cabin door that
morning.
If so he must speak English.
Again Clayton attempted speech with the ape-man; but the replies, now
vocal, were in a strange tongue, which resembled the chattering of
monkeys mingled with the growling of some wild beast.
No, this could not be Tarzan of the Apes, for it was very evident that
he was an utter stranger to English.
When Tarzan had completed his repast he rose and, pointing a very
different direction from that which Clayton had been pursuing, started
off through the jungle toward the point he had indicated.
Clayton, bewildered and confused, hesitated to follow him, for he
thought he was but being led more deeply into the mazes of the forest;
but the ape-man, seeing him disinclined to follow, returned, and,
grasping him by the coat, dragged him along until he was convinced that
Clayton understood what was required of him. Then he left him to
follow voluntarily.
The Englishman, finally concluding that he was a prisoner, saw no
alternative open but to accompany his captor, and thus they traveled
slowly through the jungle while the sable mantle of the impenetrable
forest night fell about them, and the stealthy footfalls of padded paws
mingled with the breaking of twigs and the wild calls of the savage
life that Clayton felt closing in upon him.
Suddenly Clayton heard the faint report of a firearm–a single shot,
and then silence.
In the cabin by the beach two thoroughly terrified women clung to each
other as they crouched upon the low bench in the gathering darkness.
The Negress sobbed hysterically, bemoaning the evil day that had
witnessed her departure from her dear Maryland, while the white girl,
dry eyed and outwardly calm, was torn by inward fears and forebodings.
She feared not more for herself than for the three men whom she knew to
be wandering in the abysmal depths of the savage jungle, from which she
now heard issuing the almost incessant shrieks and roars, barkings and
growlings of its terrifying and fearsome denizens as they sought their
prey.
And now there came the sound of a heavy body brushing against the side
of the cabin. She could hear the great padded paws upon the ground
outside. For an instant, all was silence; even the bedlam of the
forest died to a faint murmur. Then she distinctly heard the beast
outside sniffing at the door, not two feet from where she crouched.
Instinctively the girl shuddered, and shrank closer to the black woman.
"Hush!" she whispered. "Hush, Esmeralda," for the woman's sobs and
groans seemed to have attracted the thing that stalked there just
beyond the thin wall.
A gentle scratching sound was heard on the door. The brute tried to
force an entrance; but presently this ceased, and again she heard the
great pads creeping stealthily around the cabin. Again they
stopped–beneath the window on which the terrified eyes of the girl now
glued themselves.
"God!" she murmured, for now, silhouetted against the moonlit sky
beyond, she saw framed in the tiny square of the latticed window the
head of a huge lioness. The gleaming eyes were fixed upon her in
intent ferocity.
"Look, Esmeralda!" she whispered. "For God's sake, what shall we do?
Look! Quick! The window!"
Esmeralda, cowering still closer to her mistress, took one frightened
glance toward the little square of moonlight, just as the lioness
emitted a low, savage snarl.
The sight that met the poor woman's eyes was too much for the already
overstrung nerves.
"Oh, Gaberelle!" she shrieked, and slid to the floor an inert and
senseless mass.
For what seemed an eternity the great brute stood with its forepaws
upon the sill, glaring into the little room. Presently it tried the
strength of the lattice with its great talons.
The girl had almost ceased to breathe, when, to her relief, the head
disappeared and she heard the brute's footsteps leaving the window.
But now they came to the door again, and once more the scratching
commenced; this time with increasing force until the great beast was
tearing at the massive panels in a perfect frenzy of eagerness to seize
its defenseless victims.
Could Jane have known the immense strength of that door, built piece by
piece, she would have felt less fear of the lioness reaching her by
this avenue.
Little did John Clayton imagine when he fashioned that crude but mighty
portal that one day, twenty years later, it would shield a fair
American girl, then unborn, from the teeth and talons of a man-eater.
For fully twenty minutes the brute alternately sniffed and tore at the
door, occasionally giving voice to a wild, savage cry of baffled rage.
At length, however, she gave up the attempt, and Jane heard her
returning toward the window, beneath which she paused for an instant,
and then launched her great weight against the timeworn lattice.
The girl heard the wooden rods groan beneath the impact; but they held,
and the huge body dropped back to the ground below.
Again and again the lioness repeated these tactics, until finally the
horrified prisoner within saw a portion of the lattice give way, and in
an instant one great paw and the head of the animal were thrust within
the room.
Slowly the powerful neck and shoulders spread the bars apart, and the
lithe body protruded farther and farther into the room.
As in a trance, the girl rose, her hand upon her breast, wide eyes
staring horror-stricken into the snarling face of the beast scarce ten
feet from her. At her feet lay the prostrate form of the Negress. If
she could but arouse her, their combined efforts might possibly avail
to beat back the fierce and bloodthirsty intruder.
Jane stooped to grasp the black woman by the shoulder. Roughly she
shook her.
"Esmeralda! Esmeralda!" she cried. "Help me, or we are lost."
Esmeralda opened her eyes. The first object they encountered was the
dripping fangs of the hungry lioness.
With a horrified scream the poor woman rose to her hands and knees, and
in this position scurried across the room, shrieking: "O Gaberelle! O
Gaberelle!" at the top of her lungs.
Esmeralda weighed some two hundred and eighty pounds, and her extreme
haste, added to her extreme corpulency, produced a most amazing result
when Esmeralda elected to travel on all fours.
For a moment the lioness remained quiet with intense gaze directed upon
the flitting Esmeralda, whose goal appeared to be the cupboard, into
which she attempted to propel her huge bulk; but as the shelves were
but nine or ten inches apart, she only succeeded in getting her head
in; whereupon, with a final screech, which paled the jungle noises into
insignificance, she fainted once again.
With the subsidence of Esmeralda the lioness renewed her efforts to
wriggle her huge bulk through the weakening lattice.
The girl, standing pale and rigid against the farther wall, sought with
ever-increasing terror for some loophole of escape. Suddenly her hand,
tight-pressed against her ***, felt the hard outline of the revolver
that Clayton had left with her earlier in the day.
Quickly she snatched it from its hiding-place, and, leveling it full at
the lioness's face, pulled the trigger.
There was a flash of flame, the roar of the discharge, and an answering
roar of pain and anger from the beast.
Jane Porter saw the great form disappear from the window, and then she,
too, fainted, the revolver falling at her side.
But Sabor was not killed. The bullet had but inflicted a painful wound
in one of the great shoulders. It was the surprise at the blinding
flash and the deafening roar that had caused her hasty but temporary
retreat.
In another instant she was back at the lattice, and with renewed fury
was clawing at the aperture, but with lessened effect, since the
wounded member was almost useless.
She saw her prey–the two women–lying senseless upon the floor. There
was no longer any resistance to be overcome. Her meat lay before her,
and Sabor had only to worm her way through the lattice to claim it.
Slowly she forced her great bulk, inch by inch, through the opening.
Now her head was through, now one great forearm and shoulder.
Carefully she drew up the wounded member to insinuate it gently beyond
the tight pressing bars.
A moment more and both shoulders through, the long, sinuous body and
the narrow hips would glide quickly after.
It was on this sight that Jane Porter again opened her eyes.
Chapter XV
The Forest God
When Clayton heard the report of the firearm he fell into an agony of
fear and apprehension. He knew that one of the sailors might be the
author of it; but the fact that he had left the revolver with Jane,
together with the overwrought condition of his nerves, made him
morbidly positive that she was threatened with some great danger.
Perhaps even now she was attempting to defend herself against some
savage man or beast.
What were the thoughts of his strange captor or guide Clayton could
only vaguely conjecture; but that he had heard the shot, and was in
some manner affected by it was quite evident, for he quickened his pace
so appreciably that Clayton, stumbling blindly in his wake, was down a
dozen times in as many minutes in a vain effort to keep pace with him,
and soon was left hopelessly behind.
Fearing that he would again be irretrievably lost, he called aloud to
the wild man ahead of him, and in a moment had the satisfaction of
seeing him drop lightly to his side from the branches above.
For a moment Tarzan looked at the young man closely, as though
undecided as to just what was best to do; then, stooping down before
Clayton, he motioned him to grasp him about the neck, and, with the
white man upon his back, Tarzan took to the trees.
The next few minutes the young Englishman never forgot. High into
bending and swaying branches he was borne with what seemed to him
incredible swiftness, while Tarzan chafed at the slowness of his
progress.
From one lofty branch the agile creature swung with Clayton through a
dizzy arc to a neighboring tree; then for a hundred yards maybe the
sure feet threaded a maze of interwoven limbs, balancing like a
tightrope walker high above the black depths of verdure beneath.
From the first sensation of chilling fear Clayton passed to one of keen
admiration and envy of those giant muscles and that wondrous instinct
or knowledge which guided this forest god through the inky blackness of
the night as easily and safely as Clayton would have strolled a London
street at high noon.
Occasionally they would enter a spot where the foliage above was less
dense, and the bright rays of the moon lit up before Clayton's
wondering eyes the strange path they were traversing.
At such times the man fairly caught his breath at sight of the horrid
depths below them, for Tarzan took the easiest way, which often led
over a hundred feet above the earth.
And yet with all his seeming speed, Tarzan was in reality feeling his
way with comparative slowness, searching constantly for limbs of
adequate strength for the maintenance of this double weight.
Presently they came to the clearing before the beach. Tarzan's quick
ears had heard the strange sounds of Sabor's efforts to force her way
through the lattice, and it seemed to Clayton that they dropped a
straight hundred feet to earth, so quickly did Tarzan descend. Yet
when they struck the ground it was with scarce a jar; and as Clayton
released his hold on the ape-man he saw him dart like a squirrel for
the opposite side of the cabin.
The Englishman sprang quickly after him just in time to see the hind
quarters of some huge animal about to disappear through the window of
the cabin.
As Jane opened her eyes to a realization of the imminent peril which
threatened her, her brave young heart gave up at last its final vestige
of hope. But then to her surprise she saw the huge animal being slowly
drawn back through the window, and in the moonlight beyond she saw the
heads and shoulders of two men.
As Clayton rounded the corner of the cabin to behold the animal
disappearing within, it was also to see the ape-man seize the long tail
in both hands, and, bracing himself with his feet against the side of
the cabin, throw all his mighty strength into the effort to draw the
beast out of the interior.
Clayton was quick to lend a hand, but the ape-man jabbered to him in a
commanding and peremptory tone something which Clayton knew to be
orders, though he could not understand them.
At last, under their combined efforts, the great body was slowly
dragged farther and farther outside the window, and then there came to
Clayton's mind a dawning conception of the rash bravery of his
companion's act.
For a naked man to drag a shrieking, clawing man-eater forth from a
window by the tail to save a strange white girl, was indeed the last
word in heroism.
Insofar as Clayton was concerned it was a very different matter, since
the girl was not only of his own kind and race, but was the one woman
in all the world whom he loved.
Though he knew that the lioness would make short work of both of them,
he pulled with a will to keep it from Jane Porter. And then he
recalled the battle between this man and the great, black-maned lion
which he had witnessed a short time before, and he commenced to feel
more assurance.
Tarzan was still issuing orders which Clayton could not understand.
He was trying to tell the stupid white man to plunge his poisoned
arrows into Sabor's back and sides, and to reach the savage heart with
the long, thin hunting knife that hung at Tarzan's hip; but the man
would not understand, and Tarzan did not dare release his hold to do
the things himself, for he knew that the puny white man never could
hold mighty Sabor alone, for an instant.
Slowly the lioness was emerging from the window. At last her shoulders
were out.
And then Clayton saw an incredible thing. Tarzan, racking his brains
for some means to cope single-handed with the infuriated beast, had
suddenly recalled his battle with Terkoz; and as the great shoulders
came clear of the window, so that the lioness hung upon the sill only
by her forepaws, Tarzan suddenly released his hold upon the brute.
With the quickness of a striking rattler he launched himself full upon
Sabor's back, his strong young arms seeking and gaining a full-Nelson
upon the beast, as he had learned it that other day during his bloody,
wrestling victory over Terkoz.
With a roar the lioness turned completely over upon her back, falling
full upon her enemy; but the black-haired giant only closed tighter his
hold.
Pawing and tearing at earth and air, Sabor rolled and threw herself
this way and that in an effort to dislodge this strange antagonist; but
ever tighter and tighter drew the iron bands that were forcing her head
lower and lower upon her tawny breast.
Higher crept the steel forearms of the ape-man about the back of
Sabor's neck. Weaker and weaker became the lioness's efforts.
At last Clayton saw the immense muscles of Tarzan's shoulders and
biceps leap into corded knots beneath the silver moonlight. There was
a long sustained and supreme effort on the ape-man's part–and the
vertebrae of Sabor's neck parted with a sharp snap.
In an instant Tarzan was upon his feet, and for the second time that
day Clayton heard the bull ape's savage roar of victory. Then he heard
Jane's agonized cry:
"Cecil–Mr. Clayton! Oh, what is it? What is it?"
Running quickly to the cabin door, Clayton called out that all was
right, and shouted to her to open the door. As quickly as she could
she raised the great bar and fairly dragged Clayton within.
"What was that awful noise?" she whispered, shrinking close to him.
"It was the cry of the kill from the throat of the man who has just
saved your life, Miss Porter. Wait, I will fetch him so you may thank
him."
The frightened girl would not be left alone, so she accompanied Clayton
to the side of the cabin where lay the dead body of the lioness.
Tarzan of the Apes was gone.
Clayton called several times, but there was no reply, and so the two
returned to the greater safety of the interior.
"What a frightful sound!" cried Jane, "I shudder at the mere thought of
it. Do not tell me that a human throat voiced that hideous and
fearsome shriek."
"But it did, Miss Porter," replied Clayton; "or at least if not a human
throat that of a forest god."
And then he told her of his experiences with this strange creature–of
how twice the wild man had saved his life–of the wondrous strength,
and agility, and bravery–of the brown skin and the handsome face.
"I cannot make it out at all," he concluded. "At first I thought he
might be Tarzan of the Apes; but he neither speaks nor understands
English, so that theory is untenable."
"Well, whatever he may be," cried the girl, "we owe him our lives, and
may God bless him and keep him in safety in his wild and savage jungle!"
"Amen," said Clayton, fervently.
"For the good Lord's sake, ain't I dead?"
The two turned to see Esmeralda sitting upright upon the floor, her
great eyes rolling from side to side as though she could not believe
their testimony as to her whereabouts.
And now, for Jane Porter, the reaction came, and she threw herself upon
the bench, sobbing with hysterical laughter.
Chapter XVI
"Most Remarkable"
Several miles south of the cabin, upon a strip of sandy beach, stood
two old men, arguing.
Before them stretched the broad Atlantic. At their backs was the Dark
Continent. Close around them loomed the impenetrable blackness of the
jungle.
Savage beasts roared and growled; noises, hideous and weird, assailed
their ears. They had wandered for miles in search of their camp, but
always in the wrong direction. They were as hopelessly lost as though
they suddenly had been transported to another world.
At such a time, indeed, every fiber of their combined intellects must
have been concentrated upon the vital question of the minute–the
life-and-death question to them of retracing their steps to camp.
Samuel T. Philander was speaking.
"But, my dear professor," he was saying, "I still maintain that but for
the victories of Ferdinand and Isabella over the fifteenth-century
Moors in Spain the world would be today a thousand years in advance of
where we now find ourselves. The Moors were essentially a tolerant,
broad-minded, liberal race of agriculturists, artisans and
merchants–the very type of people that has made possible such
civilization as we find today in America and Europe–while the
Spaniards–"
"Tut, tut, dear Mr. Philander," interrupted Professor Porter; "their
religion positively precluded the possibilities you suggest. Moslemism
was, is, and always will be, a blight on that scientific progress which
has marked–"
"Bless me! Professor," interjected Mr. Philander, who had turned his
gaze toward the jungle, "there seems to be someone approaching."
Professor Archimedes Q. Porter turned in the direction indicated by the
nearsighted Mr. Philander.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," he chided. "How often must I urge you to
seek that absolute concentration of your mental faculties which alone
may permit you to bring to bear the highest powers of intellectuality
upon the momentous problems which naturally fall to the lot of great
minds? And now I find you guilty of a most flagrant breach of courtesy
in interrupting my learned discourse to call attention to a mere
quadruped of the genus FELIS. As I was saying, Mr.–"
"Heavens, Professor, a lion?" cried Mr. Philander, straining his weak
eyes toward the dim figure outlined against the dark tropical
underbrush.
"Yes, yes, Mr. Philander, if you insist upon employing slang in your
discourse, a 'lion.' But as I was saying–"
"Bless me, Professor," again interrupted Mr. Philander; "permit me to
suggest that doubtless the Moors who were conquered in the fifteenth
century will continue in that most regrettable condition for the time
being at least, even though we postpone discussion of that world
calamity until we may attain the enchanting view of yon FELIS CARNIVORA
which distance proverbially is credited with lending."
In the meantime the lion had approached with quiet dignity to within
ten paces of the two men, where he stood curiously watching them.
The moonlight flooded the beach, and the strange group stood out in
bold relief against the yellow sand.
"Most reprehensible, most reprehensible," exclaimed Professor Porter,
with a faint trace of irritation in his voice. "Never, Mr. Philander,
never before in my life have I known one of these animals to be
permitted to roam at large from its cage. I shall most certainly
report this outrageous breach of ethics to the directors of the
adjacent zoological garden."
"Quite right, Professor," agreed Mr. Philander, "and the sooner it is
done the better. Let us start now."
Seizing the professor by the arm, Mr. Philander set off in the
direction that would put the greatest distance between themselves and
the lion.
They had proceeded but a short distance when a backward glance revealed
to the horrified gaze of Mr. Philander that the lion was following
them. He tightened his grip upon the protesting professor and
increased his speed.
"As I was saying, Mr. Philander," repeated Professor Porter.
Mr. Philander took another hasty glance rearward. The lion also had
quickened his gait, and was doggedly maintaining an unvarying distance
behind them.
"He is following us!" gasped Mr. Philander, breaking into a run.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," remonstrated the professor, "this unseemly
haste is most unbecoming to men of letters. What will our friends
think of us, who may chance to be upon the street and witness our
frivolous antics? Pray let us proceed with more decorum."
Mr. Philander stole another observation astern.
The lion was bounding along in easy leaps scarce five paces behind.
Mr. Philander dropped the professor's arm, and broke into a mad *** of
speed that would have done credit to any varsity track team.
"As I was saying, Mr. Philander–" screamed Professor Porter, as,
metaphorically speaking, he himself "threw her into high." He, too,
had caught a fleeting backward glimpse of cruel yellow eyes and half
open mouth within startling proximity of his person.
With streaming coat tails and shiny silk hat Professor Archimedes Q.
Porter fled through the moonlight close upon the heels of Mr. Samuel T.
Philander.
Before them a point of the jungle ran out toward a narrow promontory,
and it was for the heaven of the trees he saw there that Mr. Samuel T.
Philander directed his prodigious leaps and bounds; while from the
shadows of this same spot peered two keen eyes in interested
appreciation of the race.
It was Tarzan of the Apes who watched, with face a-grin, this odd game
of follow-the-leader.
He knew the two men were safe enough from attack in so far as the lion
was concerned. The very fact that Numa had foregone such easy prey at
all convinced the wise forest craft of Tarzan that Numa's belly already
was full.
The lion might stalk them until hungry again; but the chances were that
if not angered he would soon tire of the sport, and slink away to his
jungle lair.
Really, the one great danger was that one of the men might stumble and
fall, and then the yellow devil would be upon him in a moment and the
joy of the kill would be too great a temptation to withstand.
So Tarzan swung quickly to a lower limb in line with the approaching
fugitives; and as Mr. Samuel T. Philander came panting and blowing
beneath him, already too spent to struggle up to the safety of the
limb, Tarzan reached down and, grasping him by the collar of his coat,
yanked him to the limb by his side.
Another moment brought the professor within the sphere of the friendly
grip, and he, too, was drawn upward to safety just as the baffled Numa,
with a roar, leaped to recover his vanishing quarry.
For a moment the two men clung panting to the great branch, while
Tarzan squatted with his back to the stem of the tree, watching them
with mingled curiosity and amusement.
It was the professor who first broke the silence.
"I am deeply pained, Mr. Philander, that you should have evinced such a
paucity of manly courage in the presence of one of the lower orders,
and by your crass timidity have caused me to exert myself to such an
unaccustomed degree in order that I might resume my discourse. As I
was saying, Mr. Philander, when you interrupted me, the Moors–"
"Professor Archimedes Q. Porter," broke in Mr. Philander, in icy tones,
"the time has arrived when patience becomes a crime and mayhem appears
garbed in the mantle of virtue. You have accused me of cowardice. You
have insinuated that you ran only to overtake me, not to escape the
clutches of the lion. Have a care, Professor Archimedes Q. Porter! I
am a desperate man. Goaded by long-suffering patience the worm will
turn."
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!" cautioned Professor Porter; "you
forget yourself."
"I forget nothing as yet, Professor Archimedes Q. Porter; but, believe
me, sir, I am tottering on the verge of forgetfulness as to your
exalted position in the world of science, and your gray hairs."
The professor sat in silence for a few minutes, and the darkness hid
the grim smile that wreathed his wrinkled countenance. Presently he
spoke.
"Look here, Skinny Philander," he said, in belligerent tones, "if you
are lookin' for a scrap, peel off your coat and come on down on the
ground, and I'll punch your head just as I did sixty years ago in the
alley back of Porky Evans' barn."
"Ark!" gasped the astonished Mr. Philander. "Lordy, how good that
sounds! When you're human, Ark, I love you; but somehow it seems as
though you had forgotten how to be human for the last twenty years."
The professor reached out a thin, trembling old hand through the
darkness until it found his old friend's shoulder.
"Forgive me, Skinny," he said, softly. "It hasn't been quite twenty
years, and God alone knows how hard I have tried to be 'human' for
Jane's sake, and yours, too, since He took my other Jane away."
Another old hand stole up from Mr. Philander's side to clasp the one
that lay upon his shoulder, and no other message could better have
translated the one heart to the other.
They did not speak for some minutes. The lion below them paced
nervously back and forth. The third figure in the tree was hidden by
the dense shadows near the stem. He, too, was silent–motionless as a
graven image.
"You certainly pulled me up into this tree just in time," said the
professor at last. "I want to thank you. You saved my life."
"But I didn't pull you up here, Professor," said Mr. Philander. "Bless
me! The excitement of the moment quite caused me to forget that I
myself was drawn up here by some outside agency–there must be someone
or something in this tree with us."
"Eh?" *** Professor Porter. "Are you quite positive, Mr.
Philander?"
"Most positive, Professor," replied Mr. Philander, "and," he added, "I
think we should thank the party. He may be sitting right next to you
now, Professor."
"Eh? What's that? Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!" said Professor
Porter, edging cautiously nearer to Mr. Philander.
Just then it occurred to Tarzan of the Apes that Numa had loitered
beneath the tree for a sufficient length of time, so he raised his
young head toward the heavens, and there rang out upon the terrified
ears of the two old men the awful warning challenge of the anthropoid.
The two friends, huddled trembling in their precarious position on the
limb, saw the great lion halt in his restless pacing as the
blood-curdling cry smote his ears, and then slink quickly into the
jungle, to be instantly lost to view.
"Even the lion trembles in fear," whispered Mr. Philander.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," murmured Professor Porter,
clutching frantically at Mr. Philander to regain the balance which the
sudden fright had so perilously endangered. Unfortunately for them
both, Mr. Philander's center of equilibrium was at that very moment
hanging upon the ragged edge of nothing, so that it needed but the
gentle impetus supplied by the additional weight of Professor Porter's
body to topple the devoted secretary from the limb.
For a moment they swayed uncertainly, and then, with mingled and most
unscholarly shrieks, they pitched headlong from the tree, locked in
frenzied embrace.
It was quite some moments ere either moved, for both were positive that
any such attempt would reveal so many breaks and fractures as to make
further progress impossible.
At length Professor Porter made an attempt to move one leg. To his
surprise, it responded to his will as in days gone by. He now drew up
its mate and stretched it forth again.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," he murmured.
"Thank God, Professor," whispered Mr. Philander, fervently, "you are
not dead, then?"
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut," cautioned Professor Porter, "I do
not know with accuracy as yet."
With infinite solicitude Professor Porter wiggled his right arm–joy!
It was intact. Breathlessly he waved his left arm above his prostrate
body–it waved!
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," he said.
"To whom are you signaling, Professor?" asked Mr. Philander, in an
excited tone.
Professor Porter deigned to make no response to this puerile inquiry.
Instead he raised his head gently from the ground, nodding it back and
forth a half dozen times.
"Most remarkable," he breathed. "It remains intact."
Mr. Philander had not moved from where he had fallen; he had not dared
the attempt. How indeed could one move when one's arms and legs and
back were broken?
One eye was buried in the soft loam; the other, rolling sidewise, was
fixed in awe upon the strange gyrations of Professor Porter.
"How sad!" exclaimed Mr. Philander, half aloud. "Concussion of the
brain, superinducing total mental aberration. How very sad indeed! and
for one still so young!"
Professor Porter rolled over upon his stomach; gingerly he bowed his
back until he resembled a huge tom cat in proximity to a yelping dog.
Then he sat up and felt of various portions of his anatomy.
"They are all here," he exclaimed. "Most remarkable!"
Whereupon he arose, and, bending a scathing glance upon the still
prostrate form of Mr. Samuel T. Philander, he said:
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander; this is no time to indulge in slothful ease.
We must be up and doing."
Mr. Philander lifted his other eye out of the mud and gazed in
speechless rage at Professor Porter. Then he attempted to rise; nor
could there have been any more surprised than he when his efforts were
immediately crowned with marked success.
He was still bursting with rage, however, at the cruel injustice of
Professor Porter's insinuation, and was on the point of rendering a
tart rejoinder when his eyes fell upon a strange figure standing a few
paces away, scrutinizing them intently.
Professor Porter had recovered his shiny silk hat, which he had brushed
carefully upon the sleeve of his coat and replaced upon his head. When
he saw Mr. Philander pointing to something behind him he turned to
behold a giant, naked but for a loin cloth and a few metal ornaments,
standing motionless before him.
"Good evening, sir!" said the professor, lifting his hat.
For reply the giant motioned them to follow him, and set off up the
beach in the direction from which they had recently come.
"I think it the better part of discretion to follow him," said Mr.
Philander.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," returned the professor. "A short time since
you were advancing a most logical argument in substantiation of your
theory that camp lay directly south of us. I was skeptical, but you
finally convinced me; so now I am positive that toward the south we
must travel to reach our friends. Therefore I shall continue south."
"But, Professor Porter, this man may know better than either of us. He
seems to be indigenous to this part of the world. Let us at least
follow him for a short distance."
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," repeated the professor. "I am a difficult
man to convince, but when once convinced my decision is unalterable. I
shall continue in the proper direction, if I have to circumambulate the
continent of Africa to reach my destination."
Further argument was interrupted by Tarzan, who, seeing that these
strange men were not following him, had returned to their side.
Again he beckoned to them; but still they stood in argument.
Presently the ape-man lost patience with their stupid ignorance. He
grasped the frightened Mr. Philander by the shoulder, and before that
worthy gentleman knew whether he was being killed or merely maimed for
life, Tarzan had tied one end of his rope securely about Mr.
Philander's neck.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," remonstrated Professor Porter; "it is most
unbeseeming in you to submit to such indignities."
But scarcely were the words out of his mouth ere he, too, had been
seized and securely bound by the neck with the same rope. Then Tarzan
set off toward the north, leading the now thoroughly frightened
professor and his secretary.
In deathly silence they proceeded for what seemed hours to the two
tired and hopeless old men; but presently as they topped a little rise
of ground they were overjoyed to see the cabin lying before them, not a
hundred yards distant.
Here Tarzan released them, and, pointing toward the little building,
vanished into the jungle beside them.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable!" gasped the professor. "But you
see, Mr. Philander, that I was quite right, as usual; and but for your
stubborn willfulness we should have escaped a series of most
humiliating, not to say dangerous accidents. Pray allow yourself to be
guided by a more mature and practical mind hereafter when in need of
wise counsel."
Mr. Samuel T. Philander was too much relieved at the happy outcome to
their adventure to take umbrage at the professor's cruel fling.
Instead he grasped his friend's arm and hastened him forward in the
direction of the cabin.
It was a much-relieved party of castaways that found itself once more
united. Dawn discovered them still recounting their various adventures
and speculating upon the identity of the strange guardian and protector
they had found on this savage shore.
Esmeralda was positive that it was none other than an angel of the
Lord, sent down especially to watch over them.
"Had you seen him devour the raw meat of the lion, Esmeralda," laughed
Clayton, "you would have thought him a very material angel."
"There was nothing heavenly about his voice," said Jane Porter, with a
little shudder at recollection of the awful roar which had followed the
killing of the lioness.
"Nor did it precisely comport with my preconceived ideas of the dignity
of divine messengers," remarked Professor Porter, "when
the–ah–gentleman tied two highly respectable and erudite scholars
neck to neck and dragged them through the jungle as though they had
been cows."
Chapter XVII
Burials
As it was now quite light, the party, none of whom had eaten or slept
since the previous morning, began to bestir themselves to prepare food.
The mutineers of the Arrow had landed a small supply of dried meats,
canned soups and vegetables, crackers, flour, tea, and coffee for the
five they had marooned, and these were hurriedly drawn upon to satisfy
the craving of long-famished appetites.
The next task was to make the cabin habitable, and to this end it was
decided to at once remove the gruesome relics of the tragedy which had
taken place there on some bygone day.
Professor Porter and Mr. Philander were deeply interested in examining
the skeletons. The two larger, they stated, had belonged to a male and
female of one of the higher white races.
The smallest skeleton was given but passing attention, as its location,
in the crib, left no doubt as to its having been the infant offspring
of this unhappy couple.
As they were preparing the skeleton of the man for burial, Clayton
discovered a massive ring which had evidently encircled the man's
finger at the time of his death, for one of the slender bones of the
hand still lay within the golden bauble.
Picking it up to examine it, Clayton gave a cry of astonishment, for
the ring bore the crest of the house of Greystoke.
At the same time, Jane discovered the books in the cupboard, and on
opening the fly-leaf of one of them saw the name, JOHN CLAYTON, LONDON.
In a second book which she hurriedly examined was the single name,
GREYSTOKE.
"Why, Mr. Clayton," she cried, "what does this mean? Here are the
names of some of your own people in these books."
"And here," he replied gravely, "is the great ring of the house of
Greystoke which has been lost since my uncle, John Clayton, the former
Lord Greystoke, disappeared, presumably lost at sea."
"But how do you account for these things being here, in this savage
African jungle?" exclaimed the girl.
"There is but one way to account for it, Miss Porter," said Clayton.
"The late Lord Greystoke was not drowned. He died here in this cabin
and this poor thing upon the floor is all that is mortal of him."
"Then this must have been Lady Greystoke," said Jane reverently,
indicating the poor mass of bones upon the bed.
"The beautiful Lady Alice," replied Clayton, "of whose many virtues and
remarkable personal charms I often have heard my mother and father
speak. Poor woman," he murmured sadly.
With deep reverence and solemnity the bodies of the late Lord and Lady
Greystoke were buried beside their little African cabin, and between
them was placed the tiny skeleton of the baby of Kala, the ape.
As Mr. Philander was placing the frail bones of the infant in a bit of
sail cloth, he examined the skull minutely. Then he called Professor
Porter to his side, and the two argued in low tones for several minutes.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," said Professor Porter.
"Bless me," said Mr. Philander, "we must acquaint Mr. Clayton with our
discovery at once."
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!" remonstrated Professor Archimedes
Q. Porter. "'Let the dead past bury its dead.'"
And so the white-haired old man repeated the burial service over this
strange grave, while his four companions stood with bowed and uncovered
heads about him.
From the trees Tarzan of the Apes watched the solemn ceremony; but most
of all he watched the sweet face and graceful figure of Jane Porter.
In his savage, untutored breast new emotions were stirring. He could
not fathom them. He wondered why he felt so great an interest in these
people–why he had gone to such pains to save the three men. But he
did not wonder why he had torn Sabor from the tender flesh of the
strange girl.
Surely the men were stupid and ridiculous and cowardly. Even Manu, the
monkey, was more intelligent than they. If these were creatures of his
own kind he was doubtful if his past pride in blood was warranted.
But the girl, ah–that was a different matter. He did not reason here.
He knew that she was created to be protected, and that he was created
to protect her.
He wondered why they had dug a great hole in the ground merely to bury
dry bones. Surely there was no sense in that; no one wanted to steal
dry bones.
Had there been meat upon them he could have understood, for thus alone
might one keep his meat from Dango, the hyena, and the other robbers of
the jungle.
When the grave had been filled with earth the little party turned back
toward the cabin, and Esmeralda, still weeping copiously for the two
she had never heard of before today, and who had been dead twenty
years, chanced to glance toward the harbor. Instantly her tears ceased.
"Look at them low down white trash out there!" she shrilled, pointing
toward the Arrow. "They-all's a desecrating us, right here on this
here perverted island."
And, sure enough, the Arrow was being worked toward the open sea,
slowly, through the harbor's entrance.
"They promised to leave us firearms and ammunition," said Clayton.
"The merciless beasts!"
"It is the work of that fellow they call Snipes, I am sure," said Jane.
"King was a scoundrel, but he had a little sense of humanity. If they
had not killed him I know that he would have seen that we were properly
provided for before they left us to our fate."
"I regret that they did not visit us before sailing," said Professor
Porter. "I had proposed requesting them to leave the treasure with us,
as I shall be a ruined man if that is lost."
Jane looked at her father sadly.
"Never mind, dear," she said. "It wouldn't have done any good, because
it is solely for the treasure that they killed their officers and
landed us upon this awful shore."
"Tut, tut, child, tut, tut!" replied Professor Porter. "You are a good
child, but inexperienced in practical matters," and Professor Porter
turned and walked slowly away toward the jungle, his hands clasped
beneath his long coat tails and his eyes bent upon the ground.
His daughter watched him with a pathetic smile upon her lips, and then
turning to Mr. Philander, she whispered:
"Please don't let him wander off again as he did yesterday. We depend
upon you, you know, to keep a close watch upon him."
"He becomes more difficult to handle each day," replied Mr. Philander,
with a sigh and a shake of his head. "I presume he is now off to
report to the directors of the Zoo that one of their lions was at large
last night. Oh, Miss Jane, you don't know what I have to contend with."
"Yes, I do, Mr. Philander; but while we all love him, you alone are
best fitted to manage him; for, regardless of what he may say to you,
he respects your great learning, and, therefore, has immense confidence
in your judgment. The poor dear cannot differentiate between erudition
and wisdom."
Mr. Philander, with a mildly puzzled expression on his face, turned to
pursue Professor Porter, and in his mind he was revolving the question
of whether he should feel complimented or aggrieved at Miss Porter's
rather backhanded compliment.
Tarzan had seen the consternation depicted upon the faces of the little
group as they witnessed the departure of the Arrow; so, as the ship was
a wonderful novelty to him in addition, he determined to hasten out to
the point of land at the north of the harbor's mouth and obtain a
nearer view of the boat, as well as to learn, if possible, the
direction of its flight.
Swinging through the trees with great speed, he reached the point only
a moment after the ship had passed out of the harbor, so that he
obtained an excellent view of the wonders of this strange, floating
house.
There were some twenty men running hither and thither about the deck,
pulling and hauling on ropes.
A light land breeze was blowing, and the ship had been worked through
the harbor's mouth under scant sail, but now that they had cleared the
point every available shred of canvas was being spread that she might
stand out to sea as handily as possible.
Tarzan watched the graceful movements of the ship in rapt admiration,
and longed to be aboard her. Presently his keen eyes caught the
faintest suspicion of smoke on the far northern horizon, and he
wondered over the cause of such a thing out on the great water.
About the same time the look-out on the Arrow must have discerned it,
for in a few minutes Tarzan saw the sails being shifted and shortened.
The ship came about, and presently he knew that she was beating back
toward land.
A man at the bows was constantly heaving into the sea a rope to the end
of which a small object was fastened. Tarzan wondered what the purpose
of this action might be.
At last the ship came up directly into the wind; the anchor was
lowered; down came the sails. There was great scurrying about on deck.
A boat was lowered, and in it a great chest was placed. Then a dozen
sailors bent to the oars and pulled rapidly toward the point where
Tarzan crouched in the branches of a tree.
In the stern of the boat, as it drew nearer, Tarzan saw the rat-faced
man.
It was but a few minutes later that the boat touched the beach. The
men jumped out and lifted the great chest to the sand. They were on
the north side of the point so that their presence was concealed from
those at the cabin.
The men argued angrily for a moment. Then the rat-faced one, with
several companions, ascended the low bluff on which stood the tree that
concealed Tarzan. They looked about for several minutes.
"Here is a good place," said the rat-faced sailor, indicating a spot
beneath Tarzan's tree.
"It is as good as any," replied one of his companions. "If they catch
us with the treasure aboard it will all be confiscated anyway. We
might as well bury it here on the chance that some of us will escape
the gallows to come back and enjoy it later."
The rat-faced one now called to the men who had remained at the boat,
and they came slowly up the bank carrying picks and shovels.
"Hurry, you!" cried Snipes.
"Stow it!" retorted one of the men, in a surly tone. "You're no
admiral, you damned shrimp."
"I'm Cap'n here, though, I'll have you to understand, you swab,"
shrieked Snipes, with a volley of frightful oaths.
"Steady, boys," cautioned one of the men who had not spoken before.
"It ain't goin' to get us nothing by fightin' amongst ourselves."
"Right enough," replied the sailor who had resented Snipes' autocratic
tones; "but it ain't a-goin' to get nobody nothin' to put on airs in
this bloomin' company neither."
"You fellows dig here," said Snipes, indicating a spot beneath the
tree. "And while you're diggin', Peter kin be a-makin' of a map of the
location so's we kin find it again. You, Tom, and Bill, take a couple
more down and fetch up the chest."
"Wot are you a-goin' to do?" asked he of the previous altercation.
"Just boss?"
"Git busy there," growled Snipes. "You didn't think your Cap'n was
a-goin' to dig with a shovel, did you?"
The men all looked up angrily. None of them liked Snipes, and this
disagreeable show of authority since he had murdered King, the real
head and ringleader of the mutineers, had only added fuel to the flames
of their hatred.
"Do you mean to say that you don't intend to take a shovel, and lend a
hand with this work? Your shoulder's not hurt so all-fired bad as
that," said Tarrant, the sailor who had before spoken.
"Not by a damned sight," replied Snipes, fingering the butt of his
revolver nervously.
"Then, by God," replied Tarrant, "if you won't take a shovel you'll
take a pickax."
With the words he raised his pick above his head, and, with a mighty
blow, he buried the point in Snipes' brain.
For a moment the men stood silently looking at the result of their
fellow's grim humor. Then one of them spoke.
"Served the skunk jolly well right," he said.
One of the others commenced to ply his pick to the ground. The soil
was soft and he threw aside the pick and grasped a shovel; then the
others joined him. There was no further comment on the killing, but
the men worked in a better frame of mind than they had since Snipes had
assumed command.
When they had a trench of ample size to bury the chest, Tarrant
suggested that they enlarge it and inter Snipes' body on top of the
chest.
"It might 'elp fool any as 'appened to be diggin' 'ereabouts," he
explained.
The others saw the cunning of the suggestion, and so the trench was
lengthened to accommodate the corpse, and in the center a deeper hole
was excavated for the box, which was first wrapped in sailcloth and
then lowered to its place, which brought its top about a foot below the
bottom of the grave. Earth was shovelled in and tramped down about the
chest until the bottom of the grave showed level and uniform.
Two of the men rolled the rat-faced corpse unceremoniously into the
grave, after first stripping it of its weapons and various other
articles which the several members of the party coveted for their own.
They then filled the grave with earth and tramped upon it until it
would hold no more.
The balance of the loose earth was thrown far and wide, and a mass of
dead undergrowth spread in as natural a manner as possible over the
new-made grave to obliterate all signs of the ground having been
disturbed.
Their work done the sailors returned to the small boat, and pulled off
rapidly toward the Arrow.
The breeze had increased considerably, and as the smoke upon the
horizon was now plainly discernible in considerable volume, the
mutineers lost no time in getting under full sail and bearing away
toward the southwest.
Tarzan, an interested spectator of all that had taken place, sat
speculating on the strange actions of these peculiar creatures.
Men were indeed more foolish and more cruel than the beasts of the
jungle! How fortunate was he who lived in the peace and security of
the great forest!
Tarzan wondered what the chest they had buried contained. If they did
not want it why did they not merely throw it into the water? That
would have been much easier.
Ah, he thought, but they do want it. They have hidden it here because
they intend returning for it later.
Tarzan dropped to the ground and commenced to examine the earth about
the excavation. He was looking to see if these creatures had dropped
anything which he might like to own. Soon he discovered a spade hidden
by the underbrush which they had laid upon the grave.
He seized it and attempted to use it as he had seen the sailors do. It
was awkward work and hurt his bare feet, but he persevered until he had
partially uncovered the body. This he dragged from the grave and laid
to one side.
Then he continued digging until he had unearthed the chest. This also
he dragged to the side of the corpse. Then he filled in the smaller
hole below the grave, replaced the body and the earth around and above
it, covered it over with underbrush, and returned to the chest.
Four sailors had sweated beneath the burden of its weight–Tarzan of
the Apes picked it up as though it had been an empty packing case, and
with the spade slung to his back by a piece of rope, carried it off
into the densest part of the jungle.
He could not well negotiate the trees with his awkward burden, but he
kept to the trails, and so made fairly good time.
For several hours he traveled a little north of east until he came to
an impenetrable wall of matted and tangled vegetation. Then he took to
the lower branches, and in another fifteen minutes he emerged into the
amphitheater of the apes, where they met in council, or to celebrate
the rites of the Dum-Dum.
Near the center of the clearing, and not far from the drum, or altar,
he commenced to dig. This was harder work than turning up the freshly
excavated earth at the grave, but Tarzan of the Apes was persevering
and so he kept at his labor until he was rewarded by seeing a hole
sufficiently deep to receive the chest and effectually hide it from
view.
Why had he gone to all this labor without knowing the value of the
contents of the chest?
Tarzan of the Apes had a man's figure and a man's brain, but he was an
ape by training and environment. His brain told him that the chest
contained something valuable, or the men would not have hidden it. His
training had taught him to imitate whatever was new and unusual, and
now the natural curiosity, which is as common to men as to apes,
prompted him to open the chest and examine its contents.
But the heavy lock and massive iron bands baffled both his cunning and
his immense strength, so that he was compelled to bury the chest
without having his curiosity satisfied.
By the time Tarzan had hunted his way back to the vicinity of the
cabin, feeding as he went, it was quite dark.
Within the little building a light was burning, for Clayton had found
an unopened tin of oil which had stood intact for twenty years, a part
of the supplies left with the Claytons by Black Michael. The lamps
also were still useable, and thus the interior of the cabin appeared as
bright as day to the astonished Tarzan.
He had often wondered at the exact purpose of the lamps. His reading
and the pictures had told him what they were, but he had no idea of how
they could be made to produce the wondrous sunlight that some of his
pictures had portrayed them as diffusing upon all surrounding objects.
As he approached the window nearest the door he saw that the cabin had
been divided into two rooms by a rough partition of boughs and
sailcloth.
In the front room were the three men; the two older deep in argument,
while the younger, tilted back against the wall on an improvised stool,
was deeply engrossed in reading one of Tarzan's books.
Tarzan was not particularly interested in the men, however, so he
sought the other window. There was the girl. How beautiful her
features! How delicate her snowy skin!
She was writing at Tarzan's own table beneath the window. Upon a pile
of grasses at the far side of the room lay the Negress asleep.
For an hour Tarzan feasted his eyes upon her while she wrote. How he
longed to speak to her, but he dared not attempt it, for he was
convinced that, like the young man, she would not understand him, and
he feared, too, that he might frighten her away.
At length she arose, leaving her manuscript upon the table. She went
to the bed upon which had been spread several layers of soft grasses.
These she rearranged.
Then she loosened the soft mass of golden hair which crowned her head.
Like a shimmering waterfall turned to burnished metal by a dying sun it
fell about her oval face; in waving lines, below her waist it tumbled.
Tarzan was spellbound. Then she extinguished the lamp and all within
the cabin was wrapped in Cimmerian darkness.
Still Tarzan watched. Creeping close beneath the window he waited,
listening, for half an hour. At last he was rewarded by the sounds of
the regular breathing within which denotes sleep.
Cautiously he intruded his hand between the meshes of the lattice until
his whole arm was within the cabin. Carefully he felt upon the desk.
At last he grasped the manuscript upon which Jane Porter had been
writing, and as cautiously withdrew his arm and hand, holding the
precious treasure.
Tarzan folded the sheets into a small parcel which he tucked into the
quiver with his arrows. Then he melted away into the jungle as softly
and as noiselessly as a shadow.
End of Chapter XVII �