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Title: Tarzan the invincible
Author: Burroughs, Edgar Rice, Frazetta, Frank
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Tarzan the invincible" ***
TARZAN
THE INVINCIBLE
EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
ACE BOOKS, INC.
1120 Avenue of the Americas
New York 36, N.Y.
This Ace edition follows the text of the first hard-cover
book edition, originally published in 1930.
_Cover art and title page illustration by Frank Frazetta._
Printed in U.S.A.
CONTEST OF JUNGLE CUNNING
A small band of white men encamped in the jungle, involved in some kind
of expedition--seemingly innocuous, unimportant. But on the success or
failure of their plan hung the destiny of Africa.
Only Tarzan could stop the mad machinations of Zveri and his fiercely
determined comrades. But Tarzan would have to fight for his own life
elsewhere, in the grim ruins of ancient Opar, whose strange priests
were as fierce in their vengeance as its beautiful women were fierce in
their love.
And Tarzan, lord of the jungle and all its creatures, would have to
prove himself indeed invincible against the overwhelming odds of the
most dangerous enemy--man.
FOREWORD
Master storyteller that he was, Edgar Rice Burroughs developed a
variety of narrative techniques, applying different ones to different
series of stories so that each series has a distinct "feel" of its own,
not only in setting and characters, but in the very construction of the
story and in the writing itself. For his Mars series, for instance,
Burroughs began each story with a rather elaborate "frame" in which the
story's hero was introduced. The hero then would tell the main story
in the first person. The readers became so accustomed to this format
that when one magazine published a Burroughs Mars story told in third
person, there was an immediate uproar among the readers, and to this
day many Burroughs fans challenge the authenticity of that story as
Burroughs' own work!
For the Tarzan tales, Burroughs used a technique of introducing several
sets of characters, starting each upon their own separate adventure,
and then "cutting" from sequence to sequence in a style very much
like that used in motion pictures. Skillfully drawing his characters
together, Burroughs would finally reveal the grand pattern in which
each element played its part.
In _Tarzan the Invincible_ Burroughs applies this technique to
three groups of protagonists. First are a band of communist _agents
provocateurs_ assembled from many lands and determined to stir
rebellion in all of Africa. Second are the beautiful rival priestesses
of fabled Opar, golden remnant of an ancient Atlantean colony. Third
is Tarzan, lord of the jungle, who stands ready to face any challenge
to his savage domain. Weaving these together in masterful fashion,
Burroughs produces a tale of high adventure, spine-tingling action and
suspense amidst colorful and exotic settings.
--RICHARD LUPOFF
Editor, _Xero_, a fantasy
fiction fan magazine.
CONTENTS
I LITTLE NKIMA
II THE HINDU
III OUT OF THE GRAVE
IV INTO THE LION'S DEN
V BEFORE THE WALLS OF OPAR
VI BETRAYED
VII IN FUTILE SEARCH
VIII THE TREACHERY OF ABU BATN
IX IN THE DEATH CELL OF OPAR
X THE LOVE OF A PRIESTESS
XI LOST IN THE JUNGLE
XII DOWN TRAILS OF TERROR
XIII THE LION-MAN
XIV SHOT DOWN
XV "KILL, TANTOR, KILL!"
XVI "TURN BACK!"
XVII A GULF THAT WAS BRIDGED
_TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE_
I
LITTLE NKIMA
I am no historian, no chronicler of facts, and, furthermore, I hold
a very definite conviction that there are certain subjects which
fiction writers should leave alone, foremost among which are politics
and religion. However, it seems to me not unethical to pirate an
idea occasionally from one or the other, provided that the subject
be handled in such a way as to impart a definite impression of
fictionizing.
Had the story that I am about to tell you broken in the newspapers of
two certain European powers, it might have precipitated another and a
more terrible world war. But with that I am not particularly concerned.
What interests me is that it is a good story that is particularly well
adapted to my requirements through the fact that Tarzan of the Apes was
intimately connected with many of its most thrilling episodes.
I am not going to bore you with dry political history, so do not tax
your intellect needlessly by attempting to decode such fictitious names
as I may use in describing certain people and places, which, it seems
to me, to the best interest of peace and disarmament, should remain
incognito.
Take the story simply as another Tarzan story, in which, it is hoped,
you will find entertainment and relaxation. If you find food for
thought in it, so much the better.
Doubtless, very few of you saw, and still fewer will remember having
seen, a news dispatch that appeared inconspicuously in the papers some
time since, reporting a rumor that French Colonial Troops stationed in
Somaliland, on the northeast coast of Africa, had invaded an Italian
African colony. Back of that news item is a story of conspiracy,
intrigue, adventure and love--a story of scoundrels and of fools, of
brave men, of beautiful women, a story of the beasts of the forest and
the jungle.
If there were few who saw the newspaper account of the invasion of
Italian Somaliland upon the northeast coast of Africa, it is equally
a fact that none of you saw a harrowing incident that occurred in the
interior some time previous to this affair. That it could possibly have
any connection whatsoever with European international intrigue, or
with the fate of nations, seems not even remotely possible, for it was
only a very little monkey fleeing through the tree tops and screaming
in terror. It was little Nkima, and pursuing him was a large, rude
monkey--a much larger monkey than little Nkima.
Fortunately for the peace of Europe and the world, the speed of the
pursuer was in no sense proportionate to his unpleasant disposition,
and so Nkima escaped him; but for long after the larger monkey had
given up the chase, the smaller one continued to flee through the tree
tops, screeching at the top of his shrill little voice, for terror and
flight were the two major activities of little Nkima.
Perhaps it was fatigue, but more likely it was a caterpillar or a
bird's nest that eventually terminated Nkima's flight and left him
scolding and chattering upon a swaying bough, far above the floor of
the jungle.
The world into which little Nkima had been born seemed a very terrible
world, indeed, and he spent most of his waking hours scolding about it,
in which respect he was quite as human as he was simian. It seemed to
little Nkima that the world was populated with large, fierce creatures
that liked monkey meat. There were Numa, the lion, and Sheeta, the
panther, and Histah, the snake--a triumvirate that rendered unsafe
his entire world from the loftiest tree top to the ground. And then
there were the great apes, and the lesser apes, and the baboons, and
countless species of monkeys, all of which God had made larger than
He had made little Nkima, and all of which seemed to harbor a grudge
against him.
Take, for example, the rude creature which had just been pursuing him.
Little Nkima had done nothing more than throw a stick at him while he
was asleep in the crotch of a tree, and just for that he had pursued
little Nkima with unquestionable homicidal intent--I use the word
without purposing any reflection upon Nkima. It had never occurred to
Nkima, as it never seems to occur to some people, that, like beauty, a
sense of humor may sometimes be fatal.
Brooding upon the injustices of life, little Nkima was very sad. But
there was another and more poignant cause of sadness that depressed
his little heart. Many, many moons ago his master had gone away and
left him. True, he had left him in a nice, comfortable home with kind
people, who fed him, but little Nkima missed the great Tarmangani,
whose naked shoulder was the one harbor of refuge from which he could
with perfect impunity hurl insults at the world. For a long time now
little Nkima had braved the dangers of the forest and the jungle in
search of his beloved Tarzan.
Because hearts are measured by content of love and loyalty, rather than
by diameters in inches, the heart of little Nkima was very large--so
large that the average human being could hide his own heart and
himself, as well, behind it--and for a long time it had been just one
great ache in his diminutive breast. But fortunately for the little
Manu his mind was so ordered that it might easily be distracted even
from a great sorrow. A butterfly or a luscious grub might suddenly
claim his attention from the depths of brooding, which was well, since
otherwise he might have grieved himself to death.
And now, therefore, as his melancholy thoughts returned to
contemplation of his loss, their trend was suddenly altered by the
shifting of a jungle breeze that brought to his keen ears a sound
that was not primarily of the jungle sounds that were a part of his
hereditary instincts. It was a discord. And what is it that brings
discord into the jungle as well as into every elsewhere that it enters?
Man. It was the voices of men that Nkima heard.
Silently the little monkey glided through the trees into the direction
from which the sounds had come; and presently, as the sounds grew
louder, there came also that which was the definite, final proof of the
identity of the noise makers, as far as Nkima, or, for that matter, any
other of the jungle folk, might be concerned--the scent spoor.
You have seen a dog, perhaps your own dog, half recognize you by sight;
but was he ever entirely satisfied until the evidence of his eyes had
been tested and approved by his sensitive nostrils?
And so it was with Nkima. His ears had suggested the presence of men,
and now his nostrils definitely assured him that men were near. He did
not think of them as men, but as great apes. There were Gomangani,
Great Black Apes, negroes, among them. This his nose told him. And
there were Tarmangani, also. These, which to Nkima would be Great White
Apes, were white men.
Eagerly his nostrils sought for the familiar scent spoor of his beloved
Tarzan, but it was not there--that he knew even before he came within
sight of the strangers.
The camp upon which Nkima presently looked down from a nearby tree was
well established. It had evidently been there for a matter of days and
might be expected to remain still longer. It was no overnight affair.
There were the tents of the white men and the byût of Arabs neatly
arranged with almost military precision and behind these the shelters
of the negroes, lightly constructed of such materials as Nature had
provided upon the spot.
Within the open front of an Arab beyt sat several white bournoosed
Beduins drinking their inevitable coffee; in the shade of a great tree
before another tent four white men were engrossed in a game of cards;
among the native shelters a group of stalwart Galla warriors were
playing at minkala. There were blacks of other tribes too--men of East
Africa and of Central Africa, with a sprinkling of West Coast negroes.
It might have puzzled an experienced African traveller or hunter to
catalog this motley aggregation of races and colors. There were far too
many blacks to justify a belief that all were porters, for with all the
impedimenta of the camp ready for transportation there would have been
but a small fraction of a load for each of them, even after more than
enough had been included among the askari, who do not carry any loads
beside their rifles and ammunition.
Then, too, there were more rifles than would have been needed to
protect even a larger party. There seemed, indeed, to be a rifle for
every man. But these were minor details which made no impression upon
Nkima. All that impressed him was the fact that here were many strange
Tarmangani and Gomangani in the country of his master; and as all
strangers were, to Nkima, enemies, he was perturbed. Now, more than
ever he wished that he might find Tarzan.
A swarthy, turbaned East Indian sat cross-legged upon the ground before
a tent, apparently sunk in meditation; but could one have seen his
dark, sensuous eyes, he would have discovered that their gaze was far
from introspective--they were bent constantly upon another tent that
stood a little apart from its fellows--and when a girl emerged from
this tent, Raghunath Jafar arose and approached her. He smiled an oily
smile as he spoke to her, but the girl did not smile as she replied.
She spoke civilly, but she did not pause, continuing her way toward the
four men at cards.
As she approached their table they looked up; and upon the face of each
was reflected some pleasurable emotion, but whether it was the same in
each, the masks that we call faces, and which are trained to conceal
our true thoughts, did not divulge. Evident it was, however, that the
girl was popular.
"Hello, Zora!" cried a large, smooth-faced fellow. "Have a good nap?"
"Yes, Comrade," replied the girl; "but I am tired of napping. This
inactivity is getting on my nerves."
"Mine, too," agreed the man.
"How much longer will you wait for the American, Comrade Zveri?" asked
Raghunath Jafar.
The big man shrugged. "I need him," he replied. "We might easily carry
on without him, but for the moral effect upon the world of having a
rich and high-born American identified actively with the affair it is
worth waiting."
"Are you quite sure of this gringo, Zveri?" asked a swarthy young
Mexican sitting next to the big, smooth-faced man, who was evidently
the leader of the expedition.
"I met him in New York and again in San Francisco," replied Zveri. "He
has been very carefully checked and favorably recommended."
"I am always suspicious of these fellows who owe everything they have
to capitalism," declared Romero. "It is in their blood--at heart they
hate the proletariat, just as we hate them."
"This fellow is different, Miguel," insisted Zveri. "He has been won
over so completely that he would betray his own father for the good of
the cause--and already he is betraying his country."
A slight, involuntary sneer, that passed unnoticed by the others,
curled the lip of Zora Drinov as she heard this description of the
remaining member of the party, who had not yet reached the rendezvous.
Miguel Romero, the Mexican, was still unconvinced. "I have no use for
gringos of any sort," he said.
Zveri shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Our personal animosities are of no
importance," he said, "as against the interests of the workers of the
world. When Colt arrives we must accept him as one of us; nor must we
forget that however much we may detest America and Americans nothing of
any moment may be accomplished in the world of today without them and
their filthy wealth."
"Wealth ground out of the blood and sweat of the working class,"
growled Romero.
"Exactly," agreed Raghunath Jafar, "but how appropriate that this same
wealth should be used to undermine and overthrow capitalistic America
and bring the workers eventually into their own."
"That is precisely the way I feel about it," said Zveri. "I would
rather use American gold in furthering the cause than any other--and
after that British."
"But what do the puny resources of this single American mean to us?"
demanded Zora. "A mere nothing compared to what America is already
pouring into Soviet Russia. What is his treason compared with the
treason of those others who are already doing more to hasten the day of
world communism than the Third Internationale itself--it is nothing,
not a drop in the bucket."
"What do you mean, Zora?" asked Miguel.
"I mean the bankers, and manufacturers, and engineers of America, who
are selling their own country and the world to us in the hope of adding
more gold to their already bursting coffers. One of their most pious
and lauded citizens is building great factories for us in Russia, where
we may turn out tractors and tanks; their manufacturers are vying with
one another to furnish us with engines for countless thousands of
airplanes; their engineers are selling us their brains and their skill
to build a great modern manufacturing city, in which ammunitions and
engines of war may be produced. These are the traitors, these are the
men who are hastening the day when Moscow shall dictate the policies of
a world."
"You speak as though you regretted it," said a dry voice at her
shoulder.
The girl turned quickly. "Oh, it is you, Sheik Abu Batn?" she said, as
she recognized the swart Arab who had strolled over from his coffee.
"Our own good fortune does not blind me to the perfidiousness of the
enemy, nor cause me to admire treason in anyone, even though I profit
by it."
"Does that include me?" demanded Romero, suspiciously.
Zora laughed. "You know better than that, Miguel," she said. "You
are of the working class--you are loyal to the workers of your
own country--but these others are of the capitalistic class; their
government is a capitalistic government that is so opposed to our
beliefs that it has never recognized our government; yet, in their
greed, these swine are selling out their own kind and their own country
for a few more rotten dollars. I loathe them."
Zveri laughed. "You are a good Red, Zora," he cried; "you hate the
enemy as much when he helps us as when he hinders."
"But hating and talking accomplish so little," said the girl. "I wish
we might do something. Sitting here in idleness seems so futile."
"And what would you have us do?" demanded Zveri, good naturedly.
"We might at least make a try for the gold of Opar," she said. "If
Kitembo is right, there should be enough there to finance a dozen
expeditions such as you are planning, and we do not need this
American--what do they call them, cake eaters?--to assist us in that
venture."
"I have been thinking along similar lines," said Raghunath Jafar.
Zveri scowled. "Perhaps some of the rest of you would like to run this
expedition," he said, crustily. "I know what I am doing and I don't
have to discuss all my plans with anyone. When I have orders to give,
I'll give them. Kitembo has already received his, and preparations have
been under way for several days for the expedition to Opar."
"The rest of us are as much interested and are risking as much as you,
Zveri," snapped Romero. "We were to work together--not as master and
slaves."
"You'll soon learn that I am master," snarled Zveri in an ugly tone.
"Yes," sneered Romero, "the czar was master, too, and Obregon. You know
what happened to them?"
Zveri leaped to his feet and whipped out a revolver, but as he levelled
it at Romero the girl struck his arm up and stepped between them. "Are
you mad, Zveri?" she cried.
"Do not interfere, Zora; this is my affair and it might as well be
settled now as later. I am chief here and I am not going to have any
traitors in my camp. Stand aside."
"No!" said the girl with finality. "Miguel was wrong and so were you,
but to shed blood--our own blood--now would utterly ruin any chance
we have of success. It would sow the seed of fear and suspicion and
cost us the respect of the blacks, for they would know that there was
dissension among us. Furthermore, Miguel is not armed; to shoot him
would be cowardly murder that would lose you the respect of every
decent man in the expedition." She had spoken rapidly in Russian, a
language that was understood by only Zveri and herself, of those who
were present; then she turned again to Miguel and addressed him in
English. "You were wrong, Miguel," she said gently. "There must be one
responsible head, and Comrade Zveri was chosen for the responsibility.
He regrets that he acted hastily. Tell him that you are sorry for what
you said, and then the two of you shake hands and let us all forget the
matter."
For an instant Romero hesitated; then he extended his hand toward
Zveri. "I am sorry," he said.
The Russian took the proffered hand in his and bowed stiffly. "Let us
forget it, Comrade," he said; but the scowl was still upon his face,
though no darker than that which clouded the Mexican's.
Little Nkima yawned and swung by his tail from a branch far overhead.
His curiosity concerning these enemies was sated. They no longer
afforded him entertainment, but he knew that his master should know
about their presence; and that thought, entering his little head,
recalled his sorrow and his great yearning for Tarzan, to the end that
he was again imbued with a grim determination to continue his search
for the ape-man. Perhaps in half an hour some trivial occurrence might
again distract his attention, but for the moment it was his life work.
Swinging through the forest, little Nkima held the fate of Europe in
his pink palm, but he did not know it.
The afternoon was waning. In the distance a lion roared. An
instinctive shiver ran up Nkima's spine. In reality, however, he was
not much afraid, knowing, as he did, that no lion could reach him in
the tree tops.
A young man marching near the head of a safari cocked his head and
listened. "Not so very far away, Tony," he said.
"No, sir; much too close," replied the Filipino.
"You'll have to learn to cut out that 'sir' stuff, Tony, before we join
the others," admonished the young man.
The Filipino grinned. "All right, Comrade," he assented. "I got so used
to calling everybody 'sir' it hard for me to change."
"I'm afraid you're not a very good Red then, Tony."
"Oh, yes I am," insisted the Filipino emphatically. "Why else am I
here? You think I like come this God forsaken country full of lion,
ant, snake, fly, mosquito just for the walk? No, I come lay down my
life for Philippine independence."
"That's noble of you all right, Tony," said the other gravely; "but
just how is it going to make the Philippines free?"
Antonio Mori scratched his head. "I don't know," he admitted; "but it
make trouble for America."
A half hour later the lion roared again, and so disconcertingly close
and unexpected rose the voice of thunder from the jungle beneath him
that little Nkima nearly fell out of the tree through which he was
passing. With a scream of terror he scampered as high aloft as he could
go and there he sat, scolding angrily.
The lion, a magnificent full-maned male, stepped into the open beneath
the tree in which the trembling Nkima clung. Once again he raised his
mighty voice until the ground itself trembled to the great, rolling
volume of his challenge. Nkima looked down upon him and suddenly ceased
to scold. Instead he leaped about excitedly, chattering and grimacing.
Numa, the lion, looked up; and then a strange thing occurred. The
monkey ceased its chattering and voiced a low, peculiar sound. The eyes
of the lion, that had been glaring balefully upward, took on a new
and almost gentle expression. He arched his back and rubbed his side
luxuriously against the bole of the tree, and from those savage jaws
came a soft, purring sound. Then little Nkima dropped quickly downward
through the foliage of the tree, gave a final nimble leap, and alighted
upon the thick mane of the king of beasts.
II
THE HINDU
With the coming of a new day came a new activity to the camp of the
conspirators. Now were the Bedaùwy drinking no coffee in the múk'aad;
the cards of the whites were put away and the Galla warriors played no
longer at minkala.
Zveri sat behind his folding camp table directing his aides and with
the assistance of Zora and Raghunath Jafar issued ammunition to the
file of armed men marching past them. Miguel Romero and the two
remaining whites were supervising the distribution of loads among
the porters. Savage black Kitembo moved constantly among his men,
hastening laggards from belated breakfast fires and forming those who
had received their ammunition into companies. Abu Batn, the sheykh,
squatted aloof with his sun-bitten warriors. They, always ready,
watched with contempt the disorderly preparations of their companions.
"How many are you leaving to guard the camp?" asked Zora.
"You and Comrade Jafar will remain in charge here," replied Zveri.
"Your boys and ten askaris also will remain as camp guard."
"That will be plenty," replied the girl. "There is no danger."
"No," agreed Zveri, "not now, but if that Tarzan were here it would be
different. I took pains to assure myself as to that before I chose this
region for our base camp, and I have learned that he has been absent
for a great while--went on some fool dirigible expedition that has
never been heard from. It is almost certain that he is dead."
When the last of the blacks had received his issue of ammunition,
Kitembo assembled his tribesmen at a little distance from the rest of
the expedition and harangued them in a low voice. They were Basembos,
and Kitembo, their chief, spoke to them in the dialect of their people.
Kitembo hated all whites. The British had occupied the land that had
been the home of his people since before the memory of man; and because
Kitembo, hereditary chief, had been irreconcilable to the domination
of the invaders they had deposed him, elevating a puppet to the
chieftaincy.
To Kitembo, the chief--savage, cruel and treacherous--all whites were
anathema, but he saw in his connection with Zveri an opportunity to be
avenged upon the British; and so he had gathered about him many of his
tribesmen and enlisted in the expedition that Zveri promised him would
rid the land forever of the British and restore Kitembo to even greater
power and glory than had formerly been the lot of Basembo chiefs.
It was not, however, always easy for Kitembo to hold the interest of
his people in this undertaking. The British had greatly undermined his
power and influence, so that warriors, who formerly might have been as
subservient to his will as slaves, now dared openly to question his
authority. There had been no demur so long as the expedition entailed
no greater hardships than short marches, pleasant camps, and plenty
of food, with West Coast blacks, and members of other tribes less
warlike than the Basembos, to act as porters, carry the loads, and do
all of the heavy work; but now, with fighting looming ahead, some of
his people had desired to know just what they were going to get out of
it, having, apparently, little stomach for risking their hides for the
gratification of the ambitions or hatreds of either the white Zveri or
the black Kitembo.
It was for the purpose of mollifying these malcontents that Kitembo
was now haranguing his warriors, promising them loot on the one hand
and ruthless punishment on the other as a choice between obedience
and mutiny. Some of the rewards he dangled before their imaginations
might have caused Zveri and the other white members of the expedition
considerable perturbation could they have understood the Basembo
dialect; but perhaps a greater argument for obedience to his commands
was the genuine fear that most of his followers still entertained for
their pitiless chieftain.
Among the other blacks of the expedition were outlaw members of several
tribes and a considerable number of porters hired in the ordinary
manner to accompany what was officially described as a scientific
expedition.
Abu Batn and his warriors were animated to temporary loyalty to
Zveri by two motives--a lust for loot and hatred for all Nasrâny as
represented by the British influence in Egypt and out in to the desert,
which they considered their hereditary domain.
The members of other races accompanying Zveri were assumed to be
motivated by noble, humanitarian aspirations; but it was, nevertheless,
true that their leader spoke to them more often of the acquisition of
personal riches and power than of the advancement of the brotherhood of
man or the rights of the proletariat.
It was, then, such a loosely knit, but none the less formidable
expedition, that set forth this lovely morning upon the sack of the
treasure vaults of mysterious Opar.
As Zora Drinov watched them depart, her beautiful, inscrutable eyes
remained fixed steadfastly upon the person of Peter Zveri until he had
disappeared from view along the river trail that led into the dark
forest.
Was it a maid watching in trepidation the departure of her lover upon a
mission fraught with danger, or--
"Perhaps he will not return," said an oily voice at her shoulder.
The girl turned her head to look into the half-closed eyes of Raghunath
Jafar. "He will return, Comrade," she said. "Peter Zveri always returns
to me."
"You are very sure of him," said the man, with a leer.
"It is written," replied the girl as she started to move toward her
tent.
"Wait," said Jafar.
She stopped and turned toward him. "What do you want?" she asked.
"You," he replied. "What do you see in that uncouth swine, Zora? What
does he know of love or beauty? I can appreciate you, beautiful flower
of the morning. With me you may attain the transcendent bliss of
perfect love, for I am an adept in the cult of love. A beast like Zveri
would only degrade you."
The sickening disgust that the girl felt she hid from the eyes of
the man, for she realized that the expedition might be gone for days
and that during that time she and Jafar would be practically alone
together, except for a handful of savage black warriors whose attitude
toward a matter of this nature between an alien woman and an alien man
she could not anticipate; but she was none the less determined to put a
definite end to his advances.
"You are playing with death, Jafar," she said quietly. "I am here upon
no mission of love, and if Zveri should learn of what you have said to
me he would kill you. Do not speak to me again on this subject."
"It will not be necessary," replied the Hindu, enigmatically. His
half-closed eyes were fixed steadily upon those of the girl. For
perhaps less than half a minute the two stood thus, while there crept
through Zora Drinov a sense of growing weakness, a realization of
approaching capitulation. She fought against it, pitting her will
against that of the man. Suddenly she tore her eyes from his. She
had won, but victory left her weak and trembling as might be one who
had but just experienced a stubbornly contested physical encounter.
Turning quickly away, she moved swiftly toward her tent, not daring
to look back for fear that she might again encounter those twin
pools of vicious and malignant power that were the eyes of Raghunath
Jafar; and so she did not see the oily smile of satisfaction that
twisted the sensuous lips of the Hindu, nor did she hear his whispered
repetition--"It will not be necessary."
As the expedition wound along the trail that leads to the foot of the
barrier cliffs that hem the lower frontier of the arid plateau beyond
which stand the ancient ruins that are Opar, Wayne Colt, far to the
west, pushed on toward the base camp of the conspirators. To the south,
a little monkey rode upon the back of a great lion, shrilling insults
now with perfect impunity at every jungle creature that crossed their
path; while, with equal contempt for all lesser creatures, the mighty
carnivore strode haughtily down wind, secure in the knowledge of his
unquestioned might. A herd of antelope, grazing in his path, caught
the acrid scent of the cat and moved nervously about; but when he came
within sight of them they trotted only a short distance to one side,
making a path for him; and, while he was still in sight, they resumed
their feeding, for Numa, the lion had fed well and the herbivores knew,
as creatures of the wild know many things that are beyond the dull
sensibilities of man, and felt no fear of Numa with a full belly.
To others, yet far off, came the scent of the lion; and they, too,
moved nervously, though their fear was less than had been the first
fear of the antelopes. These others were the great apes of the tribe of
To-yat, whose mighty bulls had little cause to fear even Numa himself,
though their shes and their balus might well tremble.
As the cat approached, the Mangani became more restless and more
irritable. To-yat, the king ape, beat his breast and bared his great
fighting fangs. Ga-yat, his powerful shoulders hunched, moved to the
edge of the herd nearest the approaching danger. Zu-tho thumped a
warning menace with his calloused feet. The shes called their balus to
them, and many took to the lower branches of the larger trees or sought
positions close to an arboreal avenue of escape.
It was at this moment that an almost naked white man dropped from the
dense foliage of a tree and alighted in their midst. Taut nerves and
short tempers snapped. Roaring and snarling, the herd rushed upon the
rash and hated man-thing. The king ape was in the lead.
"To-yat has a short memory," said the man in the tongue of the Mangani.
For an instant the ape paused, surprised perhaps to hear the language
of his kind issuing from the lips of a man-thing. "I am To-yat!" he
growled. "I kill."
"I am Tarzan," replied the man, "mighty hunter, mighty fighter. I come
in peace."
"Kill! Kill!" roared To-yat, and the other great bulls advanced,
bare-fanged, menacingly.
"Zu-tho! Ga-yat!" snapped the man, "it is I, Tarzan of the Apes;" but
the bulls were nervous and frightened now, for the scent of Numa was
strong in their nostrils, and the shock of Tarzan's sudden appearance
had plunged them into a panic.
"Kill! Kill!" they bellowed, though as yet they did not charge, but
advanced slowly, working themselves into the necessary frenzy of
rage that would terminate in a sudden, blood-mad rush that no living
creature might withstand and which would leave naught but torn and
bloody fragments of the object of their wrath.
And then a shrill scream broke from the lips of a great, hairy mother
with a tiny balu on her back. "Numa!" she shrieked, and, turning, fled
into the safety of the foliage of a nearby tree.
Instantly the shes and balus remaining upon the ground took to the
trees. The bulls turned their attention for a moment from the man to
the new menace. What they saw upset what little equanimity remained
to them. Advancing straight toward them, his round, yellow-green eyes
blazing in ferocity, was a mighty, yellow lion; and upon his back
perched a little monkey, screaming insults at them. The sight was too
much for the apes of To-yat, and the king was the first to break before
it. With a roar, the ferocity of which may have salved his self esteem,
he leaped for the nearest tree; and instantly the others broke and
fled, leaving the white giant to face the angry lion alone.
With blazing eyes the king of beasts advanced upon the man, his head
lowered and flattened, his tail extended, the brush flicking. The man
spoke a single word in a low tone that might have carried but a few
yards. Instantly the head of the lion came up, the horrid glare died in
his eyes; and at the same instant the little monkey, voicing a shrill
scream of recognition and delight, leaped over Numa's head and in three
prodigious bounds was upon the shoulder of the man, his little arms
encircling the bronzed neck.
"Little Nkima!" whispered Tarzan, the soft cheek of the monkey pressed
against his own.
The lion strode majestically forward. He sniffed the bare legs of the
man, rubbed his head against his side and lay down at his feet.
"Jad-bal-ja!" greeted the ape-man.
The great apes of the tribe of To-yat watched from the safety of the
trees. Their panic and their anger had subsided. "It is Tarzan," said
Zu-tho.
"Yes, it is Tarzan," echoed Ga-yat.
To-yat grumbled. He did not like Tarzan, but he feared him; and now,
with this new evidence of the power of the great Tarmangani, he feared
him even more.
For a time Tarzan listened to the glib chattering of little Nkima. He
learned of the strange Tarmangani and the many Gomangani warriors who
had invaded the domain of the Lord of the Jungle.
The great apes moved restlessly in the trees, wishing to descend; but
they feared Numa, and the great bulls were too heavy to travel in
safety upon the high-flung leafy trails along which the lesser apes
might pass with safety, and so could not depart until Numa had gone.
"Go away!" cried To-yat, the King. "Go away, and leave the Mangani in
peace."
"We are going," replied the ape-man, "but you need not fear either
Tarzan or the Golden Lion. We are your friends. I have told Jad-bal-ja
that he is never to harm you. You may descend."
"We shall stay in the trees until he has gone," said To-yat; "he might
forget."
"You are afraid," said Tarzan contemptuously. "Zu-tho or Ga-yat would
not be afraid."
"Zu-tho is afraid of nothing," boasted that great bull.
Without a word Ga-yat climbed ponderously from the tree in which he
had taken refuge and, if not with marked enthusiasm, at least with
slight hesitation, advanced toward Tarzan and Jad-bal-ja, the Golden
Lion. His fellows eyed him intently, momentarily expecting to see him
charged and mauled by the yellow-eyed destroyer that lay at Tarzan's
feet watching every move of the shaggy bull. The Lord of the Jungle
also watched great Numa, for none knew better than he, that a lion,
however accustomed to obey his master, is still a lion. The years of
their companionship, since Jad-bal-ja had been a little, spotted,
fluffy ball, had never given him reason to doubt the loyalty of the
carnivore, though there had been times when he had found it both
difficult and dangerous to thwart some of the beast's more ferocious
hereditary instincts.
Ga-yat approached, while little Nkima scolded and chattered from the
safety of his master's shoulder; and the lion, blinking lazily, finally
looked away. The danger, if there had been any, was over--it is the
fixed, intent gaze of the lion that bodes ill.
Tarzan advanced and laid a friendly hand upon the shoulder of the ape.
"This is Ga-yat," he said addressing Jad-bal-ja, "friend of Tarzan; do
not harm him." He did not speak in any language of man. Perhaps the
medium of communication that he used might not properly be called a
language at all, but the lion and the great ape and the little Manu
understood him.
"Tell the Mangani that Tarzan is the friend of little Nkima," shrilled
the monkey. "He must not harm little Nkima."
"It is as Nkima has said," the ape-man assured Ga-yat.
"The friends of Tarzan are the friends of Ga-yat," replied the great
ape.
"It is well," said Tarzan, "and now I go. Tell To-yat and the others
what we have said and tell them also that there are strange men in this
country which is Tarzan's. Let them watch them, but do not let the men
see them, for these are bad men, perhaps, who carry the thunder sticks
that hurl death with smoke and fire and a great noise. Tarzan goes now
to see why these men are in his country."
* * * * *
Zora Drinov had avoided Jafar since the departure of the expedition to
Opar. Scarcely had she left her tent, feigning a headache as an excuse,
nor had the Hindu made any attempt to invade her privacy. Thus passed
the first day. Upon the morning of the second Jafar summoned the head
man of the askaris that had been left to guard them and to procure meat.
"Today," said Raghunath Jafar, "would be a good day to hunt. The signs
are propitious. Go, therefore, into the forest, taking all your men,
and do not return until the sun is low in the west. If you do this
there will be presents for you, besides all the meat you can eat from
the carcasses of your kills. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Bwana," replied the black.
"Take with you the boy of the woman. He will not be needed here. My boy
will remain to cook for us."
"Perhaps he will not come," suggested the negro.
"You are many, he is only one; but do not let the woman know that you
are taking him."
"What are the presents?" demanded the head man.
"A piece of cloth and cartridges," replied Jafar.
"And the curved sword that you carry when we are on the march."
"No," said Jafar.
"This is not a good day to hunt," replied the black, turning away.
"Two pieces of cloth and fifty cartridges," suggested Jafar.
"And the curved sword," and thus, after much haggling, the bargain was
made.
The head man gathered his askaris and bade them prepare for the hunt,
saying that the brown bwana had so ordered, but he said nothing about
any presents. When they were ready, he dispatched one to summon the
white woman's servant.
"You are to accompany us on the hunt," he said to the boy.
"Who said so?" demanded Wamala.
"The brown bwana," replied Kahiya, the head man.
Wamala laughed. "I take my orders from my mistress--not from the brown
bwana."
Kahiya leaped upon him and clapped a rough palm across his mouth as
two of his men seized Wamala upon either side. "You take your orders
from Kahiya," he said. Hunting spears were pressed against the boy's
trembling body. "Will you go upon the hunt with us?" demanded Kahiya.
"I go," replied Wamala. "I did but joke."
As Zveri led his expedition toward Opar, Wayne Colt, impatient to
join the main body of the conspirators, urged his men to greater
speed in their search for the camp. The principal conspirators had
entered Africa at different points that they might not arouse too much
attention by their numbers. Pursuant to this plan Colt had landed on
the west coast and had travelled inland a short distance by train
to railhead, from which point he had had a long and arduous journey
on foot; so that now, with his destination almost in sight, he was
anxious to put a period to this part of his adventure. Then, too, he
was curious to meet the other principals in this hazardous undertaking,
Peter Zveri being the only one with whom he was acquainted.
The young American was not unmindful of the great risks he was inviting
in affiliating himself with an expedition which aimed at the peace of
Europe and at the ultimate control of a large section of Northeastern
Africa through the disaffection by propaganda of large and warlike
native tribes, especially in view of the fact that much of their
operation must be carried on within British territory, where British
power was considerably more than a mere gesture. But, being young and
enthusiastic, however, misguided, these contingencies did not weigh
heavily upon his spirits, which, far from being depressed, were upon
the contrary eager and restless for action.
The tedium of the journey from the coast had been unrelieved by
pleasurable or adequate companionship, since the childish mentality of
Tony could not rise above a muddy conception of Philippine independence
and a consideration of the fine clothes he was going to buy when, by
some vaguely visualized economic process, he was to obtain his share of
the Ford and Rockefeller fortunes.
However, notwithstanding Tony's mental shortcomings, Colt was genuinely
fond of the youth and as between the companionship of the Filipino or
Zveri, he would have chosen the former, his brief acquaintance with the
Russian in New York and San Francisco having convinced him that as a
play-fellow he left everything to be desired; nor had he any reason to
anticipate that he would find any more congenial associates among the
conspirators.
Plodding doggedly onward, Colt was only vaguely aware of the now
familiar sights and sounds of the jungle, both of which by this time,
it must be admitted, had considerably palled upon him. Even had he
taken particular note of the latter, it is to be doubted that his
untrained ear would have caught the persistent chatter of a little
monkey that followed in the trees behind him; nor would this have
particularly impressed him, unless he had been able to know that this
particular little monkey rode upon the shoulder of a bronzed Apollo of
the forest, who moved silently in his wake along a leafy highway of the
lower terraces.
Tarzan had guessed that perhaps this white man, upon whose trail he had
come unexpectedly, was making his way toward the main camp of the party
of strangers for which the Lord of the Jungle was searching; and so,
with the persistence and patience of the savage stalker of the jungle,
he followed Wayne Colt; while little Nkima, riding upon his shoulder,
berated his master for not immediately destroying the Tarmangani and
all his party, for little Nkima was a bloodthirsty soul when the
spilling of blood was to be accomplished by someone else.
And while Colt impatiently urged his men to greater speed and Tarzan
followed and Nkima scolded, Raghunath Jafar approached the tent of Zora
Drinov. As his figure darkened the entrance, casting a shadow across
the book she was reading, the girl looked up from the cot upon which
she was lying.
The Hindu smiled his oily, ingratiating smile. "I came to see if your
headache was better," he said.
"Thank you, no," said the girl coldly; "but perhaps with undisturbed
rest I may be better soon."
Ignoring the suggestion, Jafar entered the tent and seated himself in a
camp chair. "I find it lonely," he said, "since the others have gone.
Do you not also?"
"No," replied Zora. "I am quite content to be alone and resting."
"Your headache developed very suddenly," said Jafar. "A short time ago
you seemed quite well and animated."
The girl made no reply. She was wondering what had become of her boy,
Wamala, and why he had disregarded her explicit instructions to permit
no one to disturb her. Perhaps Raghunath Jafar read her thoughts, for
to East Indians are often attributed uncanny powers, however, little
warranted such a belief may be. However that may be, his next words
suggested the possibility.
"Wamala has gone hunting with the askaris," he said.
"I gave him no such permission," said Zora.
"I took the liberty of doing so," said Jafar.
"You had no right," said the girl angrily, sitting up upon the edge of
her cot. "You have presumed altogether too far, Comrade Jafar."
"Wait a moment, my dear," said the Hindu soothingly. "Let us not
quarrel. As you know, I love you and love does not find confirmation
in crowds. Perhaps I have presumed, but it was only for the purpose of
giving me an opportunity to plead my cause without interruption; and
then, too, as you know, all is fair in love and war."
"Then we may consider this as war," said the girl, "for it certainly
is not love, either upon your side or upon mine. There is another word
to describe what animates you, Comrade Jafar, and that which animates
me now is loathing. I could not abide you if you were the last man on
earth, and when Zveri returns, I promise you that there shall be an
accounting."
"Long before Zveri returns I shall have taught you to love me," said
the Hindu, passionately. He arose and came toward her. The girl leaped
to her feet, looking about quickly for a weapon of defense. Her
cartridge belt and revolver hung over the chair in which Jafar had been
sitting, and her rifle was upon the opposite side of the tent.
"You are quite unarmed," said the Hindu; "I took particular note of
that when I entered the tent. Nor will it do you any good to call for
help; for there is no one in camp but you, and me, and my boy and he
knows that, if he values his life, he is not to come here unless I call
him."
"You are a beast," said the girl.
"Why not be reasonable, Zora?" demanded Jafar. "It would not harm you
any to be kind to me, and it will make it very much easier for you.
Zveri need know nothing of it, and once we are back in civilization
again, if you still feel that you do not wish to remain with me I shall
not try to hold you; but I am sure that I can teach you to love me and
that we shall be very happy together."
"Get out!" ordered the girl. There was neither fear nor hysteria in her
voice. It was very calm and level and controlled. To a man not entirely
blinded by passion, that might have meant something--it might have
meant a grim determination to carry self-defense to the very length
of death--but Raghunath Jafar saw only the woman of his desire, and
stepping quickly forward he seized her.
Zora Drinov was young and lithe and strong, yet she was no match for
the burly Hindu, whose layers of greasy fat belied the great physical
strength beneath them. She tried to wrench herself free and escape
from the tent, but he held her and dragged her back. Then she turned
upon him in a fury and struck him repeatedly in the face, but he only
enveloped her more closely in his embrace and bore her backward upon
the cot.
III
OUT OF THE GRAVE
Wayne Colt's guide, who had been slightly in advance of the American,
stopped suddenly and looked back with a broad smile. Then he pointed
ahead. "The camp, Bwana!" he exclaimed triumphantly.
"Thank the Lord!" exclaimed Colt with a sigh of relief.
"It is deserted," said the guide.
"It does look that way, doesn't it?" agreed Colt. "Let's have a look
around," and, followed by his men, he moved in among the tents. His
tired porters threw down their loads and, with the askaris, sprawled
at full length beneath the shade of the trees, while Colt, followed by
Tony, commenced an investigation of the camp.
Almost immediately the young American's attention was attracted by the
violent shaking of one of the tents. "There is someone or something in
there," he said to Tony, as he walked briskly toward the entrance.
The sight within that met his eyes brought a sharp ejaculation to his
lips--a man and woman struggling upon the ground, the former choking
the bare throat of his victim while the girl struck feebly at his face
with clenched fists.
So engrossed was Jafar in his unsuccessful attempt to subdue the girl
that he was unaware of Colt's presence until a heavy hand fell upon his
shoulder and he was jerked violently aside.
Consumed by maniacal fury, he leaped to his feet and struck at the
American only to be met with a blow that sent him reeling backward.
Again he charged and again he was struck heavily upon the face. This
time he went to the ground, and as he staggered to his feet, Colt
seized him, wheeled him around and hurtled him through the entrance
of the tent, accelerating his departure with a well-timed kick. "If
he tries to come back, Tony, shoot him," he snapped at the Filipino,
and then turned to assist the girl to her feet. Half carrying her, he
laid her on the cot and then, finding water in a bucket, bathed her
forehead, her throat and her wrists.
Outside the tent Raghunath Jafar saw the porters and the askaris lying
in the shade of a tree. He also saw Antonio Mori with a determined
scowl upon his face and a revolver in his hand, and with an angry
imprecation he turned and made his way toward his own tent, his face
livid with anger and murder in his heart.
Presently Zora Drinov opened her eyes and looked up into the solicitous
face of Wayne Colt, bending over her.
From the leafy seclusion of a tree above the camp, Tarzan of the Apes
overlooked the scene below. A single, whispered syllable had silenced
Nkima's scolding. Tarzan had noted the violent shaking of the tent
that had attracted Colt's attention, and he had seen the precipitate
ejection of the Hindu from its interior and the menacing attitude of
the Filipino preventing Jafar's return to the conflict. These matters
were of little interest to the ape-man. The quarrelings and defections
of these people did not even arouse his curiosity. What he wished to
learn was the reason for their presence here, and for the purpose of
obtaining this information he had two plans. One was to keep them under
constant surveillance until their acts divulged that which he wished to
know. The other was to determine definitely the head of the expedition
and then to enter the camp and demand the information he desired. But
this he would not do until he had obtained sufficient information to
give him an advantage. What was going on within the tent he did not
know, nor did he care.
For several seconds after she opened her eyes Zora Drinov gazed
intently into those of the man bent upon her. "You must be the
American," she said finally.
"I am Wayne Colt," he replied, "and I take it from the fact that you
guessed my identity that this is Comrade Zveri's camp."
She nodded. "You came just in time, Comrade Colt," she said.
"Thank God for that," he said.
"There is no God," she reminded him.
Colt flushed. "We are creatures of heredity and habit," he explained.
Zora Drinov smiled. "That is true," she said, "but it is our business
to break a great many bad habits not only for ourselves, but for the
entire world."
Since he had laid her upon the cot, Colt had been quietly appraising
the girl. He had not known that there was a white woman in Zveri's
camp, but had he it is certain that he would not have anticipated
one at all like this girl. He would rather have visualized a female
agitator capable of accompanying a band of men to the heart of Africa
as a coarse and unkempt peasant woman of middle age; but this girl,
from her head of glorious, wavy hair to her small well-shaped foot,
suggested the antithesis of a peasant origin and, far from being
unkempt, was as trig and smart as it were possible for a woman to be
under such circumstances and, in addition, she was young and beautiful.
"Comrade Zveri is absent from camp?" he asked.
"Yes, he is away on a short expedition."
"And there is no one to introduce us to one another?" he asked, with a
smile.
"Oh, pardon me," she said. "I am Zora Drinov."
"I had not anticipated such a pleasant surprise," said Colt. "I
expected to find nothing but uninteresting men like myself. And who was
the fellow I interrupted?"
"That was Raghunath Jafar, a Hindu."
"He is one of us?" asked Colt.
"Yes," replied the girl, "but not for long--not after Peter Zveri
returns."
"You mean--?"
"I mean that Peter will kill him."
Colt shrugged. "It is what he deserves," he said. "Perhaps I should
have done it."
"No," said the girl, "leave that for Peter."
"Were you left alone here in this camp without any protection?"
demanded Colt.
"No. Peter left my boy and ten askaris, but in some way Jafar got them
all out of camp."
"You will be safe now," he said. "I shall see to that until Comrade
Zveri returns. I am going now to make my camp, and I shall send two of
my askaris to stand guard before your tent."
"That is good of you," she said, "but I think now that you are here it
will not be necessary."
"I shall do it anyway," he said. "I shall feel safer."
"And when you have made camp, will you come and have supper with me?"
she asked, and then, "Oh, I forgot, Jafar has sent my boy away, too.
There is no one to cook for me."
"Then, perhaps, you will dine with me," he said. "My boy is a fairly
good cook."
"I shall be delighted, Comrade Colt," she replied.
As the American left the tent, Zora Drinov lay back upon the cot with
half-closed eyes. How different the man had been from what she had
expected. Recalling his features, and especially his eyes, she found
it difficult to believe that such a man could be a traitor to his
father or to his country, but then, she realized, many a man has turned
against his own for a principle. With her own people it was different.
They had never had a chance. They had always been ground beneath the
heel of one tyrant or another. What they were doing they believed
implicitly to be for their own and for their country's good. Among
those of them who were motivated by honest conviction there could not
fairly be brought any charge of treason, and yet, Russian though she
was to the core, she could not help but look with contempt upon the
citizens of other countries who turned against their governments to aid
the ambitions of a foreign power. We may be willing to profit by the
act of foreign mercenaries and traitors, but we cannot admire them.
As Colt crossed from Zora's tent to where his men lay to give the
necessary instruction for the making of his camp, Raghunath Jafar
watched him from the interior of his own tent. A malignant scowl
clouded the countenance of the Hindu, and hatred smoldered in his eyes.
Tarzan, watching from above, saw the young American issuing
instructions to his men. The personality of this young stranger had
impressed Tarzan favorably. He liked him as well as he could like any
stranger, for deeply ingrained in the fiber of the ape-man was the wild
beast suspicion of all strangers and especially of all white strangers.
As he watched him now nothing else within the range of his vision
escaped him. It was thus that he saw Raghunath Jafar emerge from his
tent, carrying a rifle. Only Tarzan and little Nkima saw this, and only
Tarzan placed any sinister interpretation upon it.
Raghunath Jafar walked directly away from camp and entered the jungle.
Swinging silently through the trees, Tarzan of the Apes followed him.
Jafar made a half circle of the camp just within the concealing verdure
of the jungle, and then he halted. From where he stood the entire camp
was visible to him, but his own position was concealed by foliage.
Colt was watching the disposition of his loads and the pitching of
his tent. His men were busy with the various duties assigned to them
by their headman. They were tired and there was little talking. For
the most part they worked in silence, and an unusual quiet pervaded
the scene--a quiet that was suddenly and unexpectedly shattered by
an anguished scream and the report of a rifle, blending so closely
that it was impossible to say which had preceded the other. A bullet
whizzed by Colt's head and nipped the lobe off the ear of one of his
men standing behind him. Instantly the peaceful activities of the camp
were supplanted by pandemonium. For a moment there was a difference
of opinion as to the direction from which the shot and the scream had
come, and then Colt saw a wisp of smoke rising from the jungle just
beyond the edge of camp.
"There it is," he said, and started toward the point.
The headman of the askaris stopped him. "Do not go, Bwana," he said.
"Perhaps it is an enemy. Let us fire into the jungle first."
"No," said Colt, "we will investigate first. Take some of your men in
from the right, and I'll take the rest in from the left. We'll work
around slowly through the jungle until we meet."
"Yes, Bwana," said the headman, and calling his men he gave the
necessary instructions.
No sound of flight or any suggestion of a living presence greeted the
two parties as they entered the jungle; nor had they discovered any
signs of a marauder when, a few moments later, they made contact with
one another. They were now formed in a half circle that bent back into
the jungle and, at a word from Colt, they advanced toward the camp.
It was Colt who found Raghunath Jafar lying dead just at the edge of
camp. His right hand grasped his rifle. Protruding from his heart was
the shaft of a sturdy arrow.
The negroes gathering around the corpse looked at one another
questioningly and then back into the jungle and up into the trees.
One of them examined the arrow. "It is not like any arrow I have ever
seen," he said. "It was not made by the hand of man."
Immediately the blacks were filled with superstitious fears. "The shot
was meant for the bwana," said one; "therefore the demon who shot the
arrow is a friend of our bwana. We need not be afraid."
This explanation satisfied the blacks, but it did not satisfy Wayne
Colt. He was puzzling over it as he walked back into camp, after giving
orders that the Hindu be buried.
Zora Drinov was standing in the entrance to her tent, and as she saw
him she came to meet him. "What was it?" she asked. "What happened?"
"Comrade Zveri will not kill Raghunath Jafar," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because Raghunath Jafar is already dead."
"Who could have shot the arrow?" she asked, after he had told her of
the manner of the Hindu's death.
"I haven't the remotest idea," he admitted. "It is an absolute mystery,
but it means that the camp is being watched and that we must be very
careful not to go into the jungle alone. The men believe that the
arrow was fired to save me from an assassin's bullet; and while it
is entirely possible that Jafar may have been intending to kill me,
I believe that if I had gone into the jungle alone instead of him it
would have been I that would be lying out there dead now. Have you been
bothered at all by natives since you made camp here, or have you had
any unpleasant experiences with them at all?"
"We have not seen a native since we entered this camp. We have often
commented upon the fact that the country seems to be entirely deserted
and uninhabited, notwithstanding the fact that it is filled with game."
"This thing may help to account for the fact that it is uninhabited,"
suggested Colt, "or rather apparently uninhabited. We may have
unintentionally invaded the country of some unusually ferocious tribe
that takes this means of acquainting newcomers with the fact that they
are persona non grata."
"You say one of our men was wounded?" asked Zora.
"Nothing serious. He just had his ear nicked a little."
"Was he near you?"
"He was standing right behind me," replied Colt.
"I think there is no doubt that Jafar meant to kill you," said Zora.
"Perhaps," said Colt, "but he did not succeed. He did not even kill my
appetite; and if I can succeed in calming the excitement of my boy, we
shall have supper presently."
From a distance Tarzan and Nkima watched the burial of Raghunath Jafar
and a little later saw the return of Kahiya and his askaris with Zora's
boy Wamala, who had been sent out of camp by Jafar.
"Where," said Tarzan to Nkima, "are all the many Tarmangani and
Gomangani that you told me were in this camp?"
"They have taken their thundersticks and gone away," replied the little
Manu. "They are hunting for Nkima."
Tarzan of the Apes smiled one of his rare smiles. "We shall have to
hunt them down and find out what they are about, Nkima," he said.
"But it grows dark in the jungle soon," pleaded Nkima, "and then will
Sabor, and Sheeta, and Numa, and Histah be abroad, and they, too,
search for little Nkima."
Darkness had fallen before Colt's boy announced supper, and in the
meantime Tarzan, changing his plans, had returned to the trees above
the camp. He was convinced that there was something irregular in the
aims of the expedition whose base he had discovered. He knew from the
size of the camp that it had contained many men. Where they had gone
and for what purpose were matters that he must ascertain. Feeling that
this expedition, whatever its purpose, might naturally be a principal
topic of conversation in the camp, he sought a point of vantage
wherefrom he might overhear the conversations that passed between the
two white members of the party beneath him; and so it was that as Zora
Drinov and Wayne Colt seated themselves at the supper table, Tarzan of
the Apes crouched amid the foliage of a great tree just above them.
"You have passed through a rather trying ordeal today," said Colt, "but
you do not appear to be any the worse for it. I should think that your
nerves would be shaken."
"I have passed through too much already in my life, Comrade Colt, to
have any nerves left at all," replied the girl.
"I suppose so," said Colt. "You must have passed through the revolution
in Russia."
"I was only a little girl at the time," she explained, "but I remember
it quite distinctly."
Colt was gazing at her intently. "From your appearance," he ventured,
"I imagine that you were not by birth of the proletariat."
"My father was a laborer. He died in exile under the Tzarist
regime. That was how I learned to hate everything monarchistic and
capitalistic. And when I was offered this opportunity to join Comrade
Zveri, I saw another field in which to encompass my revenge, while at
the same time advancing the interests of my class throughout the world."
"When I last saw Zveri in the United States," said Colt, "he evidently
had not formulated the plans he is now carrying out, as he never
mentioned any expedition of this sort. When I received orders to join
him here, none of the details were imparted to me; and so I am rather
in the dark as to what his purpose is."
"It is only for good soldiers to obey," the girl reminded him.
"Yes, I know that," agreed Colt, "but at the same time even a poor
soldier may act more intelligently sometimes if he knows the objective."
"The general plan, of course, is no secret to any of us here," said
Zora, "and I shall betray no confidence in explaining it to you. It
is a part of a larger plan to embroil the capitalistic powers in wars
and revolutions to such an extent that they will be helpless to unite
against us.
"Our emissaries have been laboring for a long time toward the
culmination of the revolution in India that will distract the attention
and the armed forces of Great Britain. We are not succeeding so well
in Mexico as we had planned, but there is still hope, while our
prospects in the Philippines are very bright. The conditions in China
you well know. She is absolutely helpless, and we have hope that with
our assistance she will eventually constitute a real menace to Japan.
Italy is a very dangerous enemy, and it is largely for the purpose of
embroiling her in war with France that we are here."
"But just how can that be accomplished in Africa?" asked Colt.
"Comrade Zveri believes that it will be simple," said the girl. "The
suspicion and jealousy that exist between France and Italy are well
known; their race for naval supremacy amounts almost to a scandal. At
the first overt act of either against the other, war might easily
result, and a war between Italy and France would embroil all of Europe."
"But just how can Zveri, operating in the wilds of Africa, embroil
Italy and France in war?" demanded the American.
"There is now in Rome a delegation of French and Italian Reds engaged
in this very business. The poor men know only a part of the plan and,
unfortunately for them, it will be necessary to martyr them in the
cause for the advancement of our world plan. They have been furnished
with papers outlining a plan for the invasion of Italian Somaliland by
French troops. At the proper time one of Comrade Zveri's secret agents
in Rome will reveal the plot to the Fascist Government; and almost
simultaneously a considerable number of our own blacks, disguised
in the uniforms of French native troops, led by the white men of
our expedition, uniformed as French officers, will invade Italian
Somaliland.
"In the meantime our agents are carrying on in Egypt and Abyssinia and
among the native tribes of North Africa, and already we have definite
assurance that with the attention of France and Italy distracted by
war and Great Britain embarrassed by a revolution in India the natives
of North Africa will arise in what will amount almost to a holy war
for the purpose of throwing off the yoke of foreign domination and the
establishment of autonomous soviet states throughout the entire area."
"A daring and stupendous undertaking," exclaimed Colt, "but one that
will require enormous resources in money as well as men."
"It is Comrade Zveri's pet scheme," said the girl. "I do not know, of
course, all the details of his organization and backing; but I do know
that while he is already well financed for the initial operations, he
is depending to a considerable extent upon this district for furnishing
most of the necessary gold to carry on the tremendous operations that
will be necessary to insure final success."
"Then I am afraid he is foredoomed to failure," said Colt, "for he
surely cannot find enough wealth in this savage country to carry on any
such stupendous program."
"Comrade Zveri believes to the contrary," said Zora; "in fact, the
expedition that he is now engaged upon is for the purpose of obtaining
the treasure he seeks."
Above them, in the darkness, the silent figure of the ape-man lay
stretched at ease upon a great branch, his keen ears absorbing all
that passed between them, while curled in sleep upon his bronzed back
lay little Nkima, entirely oblivious of the fact that he might have
listened to words well calculated to shake the foundations of organized
government throughout the world.
"And where," demanded Colt, "if it is no secret, does Comrade Zveri
expect to find such a great store of gold?"
"In the famous treasure vaults of Opar," replied the girl. "You
certainly have heard of them."
"Yes," answered Colt, "but I never considered them other than purely
legendary. The folklore of the entire world is filled with these
mythical treasure vaults."
"But Opar is no myth," replied Zora.
If the startling information divulged to him affected Tarzan, it
induced no outward manifestation. Listening in silence imperturbable,
trained to the utmost refinement of self-control, he might have been
part and parcel of the great branch upon which he lay, or of the
shadowy foliage which hid him from view.
For a time Colt sat in silence, contemplating the stupendous
possibilities of the plan that he had just heard unfolded. It seemed
to him little short of the dream of a mad man, and he did not believe
that it had the slightest chance for success. What he did realize
was the jeopardy in which it placed the members of the expedition,
for he believed that there would be no escape for any of them once
Great Britain, France, and Italy were apprised of their activities;
and, without conscious volition, his fears seemed centered upon the
safety of the girl. He knew the type of people with whom he was
working and so he knew that it would be dangerous to voice a doubt as
to the practicability of the plan, for scarcely without exception
the agitators whom he had met had fallen naturally into two separate
categories, the impractical visionary, who believed everything that
he wanted to believe, and the shrewd knave, actuated by motives of
avarice, who hoped to profit either in power or riches by any change
that he might be instrumental in bringing about in the established
order of things. It seemed horrible that a young and beautiful girl
should have been enticed into such a desperate situation. She seemed
far too intelligent to be merely a brainless tool, and even his brief
association with her made it most difficult for him to believe that she
was a knave.
"The undertaking is certainly fraught with grave dangers," he said,
"and as it is primarily a job for men I cannot understand why you were
permitted to face the dangers and hardships that must of necessity be
entailed by the carrying out of such a perilous campaign."
"The life of a woman is of no more value than that of a man," she
declared, "and I was needed. There is always a great deal of important
and confidential clerical work to be done which Comrade Zveri can
entrust only to one in whom he has implicit confidence. He reposes such
trust in me and, in addition, I am a trained typist and stenographer.
Those reasons in themselves are sufficient to explain why I am here,
but another very important one is that I desire to be with Comrade
Zveri."
In the girl's words Colt saw the admission of a romance; but to his
American mind this was all the greater reason why the girl should not
have been brought along, for he could not conceive of a man exposing
the girl he loved to such dangers.
Above them Tarzan of the Apes moved silently. First he reached over
his shoulder and lifted little Nkima from his back. Nkima would have
objected, but the veriest shadow of a whisper silenced him. The ape-man
had various methods of dealing with enemies--methods that he had
learned and practiced long before he had been cognizant of the fact
that he was not an ape. Long before he had ever seen another white
man he had terrorized the gomangani, the black men of the forest and
the jungle, and had learned that a long step toward defeating an enemy
may be taken by first demoralizing its morale. He knew now that these
people were not only the invaders of his own domain and, therefore,
his own personal enemies, but that they threatened the peace of Great
Britain, which was dear to him, and of the rest of the civilized world,
with which, at least, Tarzan had no quarrels. It is true that he held
civilization in general in considerable contempt, but in even greater
contempt he held those who interfered with the rights of others or with
the established order of jungle or city.
As Tarzan left the tree in which he had been hiding, the two below
him were no more aware of his departure than they had been of his
presence. Colt found himself attempting to fathom the mystery of love.
He knew Zveri, and it appeared inconceivable to him that a girl of Zora
Drinov's type could be attracted by a man of Zveri's stamp. Of course,
it was none of his affair, but it bothered him nevertheless because it
seemed to constitute a reflection upon the girl and to lower her in his
estimation. He was disappointed in her, and Colt did not like to be
disappointed in people to whom he had been attracted.
"You knew Comrade Zveri in America, did you not?" asked Zora.
"Yes," replied Colt.
"What do you think of him?" she demanded.
"I found him a very forceful character," replied Colt. "I believe
him to be a man who would carry on to a conclusion anything that he
attempted. No better man could have been chosen for this mission."
If the girl had hoped to surprise Colt into an expression of personal
regard or dislike for Zveri, she had failed, but if such was the fact
she was too wise to pursue the subject further. She realized that she
was dealing with a man from whom she would get little information that
he did not wish her to have; but on the other hand a man who might
easily wrest information from others, for he was that type which
seemed to invite confidences, suggesting as he did, in his attitude,
his speech and his manner a sterling uprightness of character that
could not conceivably abuse a trust. She rather liked this upstanding
young American, and the more she saw of him the more difficult she
found it to believe that he had turned traitor to his family, his
friends and his country. However, she knew that many honorable men
had sacrificed everything to a conviction and, perhaps, he was one of
these. She hoped that this was the explanation.
Their conversation drifted to various subjects--to their lives and
experiences in their native lands--to the happenings that had befallen
them since they had entered Africa, and, finally, to the experiences of
the day. And while they talked, Tarzan of the Apes returned to the tree
above them, but this time he did not come alone.
"I wonder if we shall ever know," she said, "who killed Jafar."
"It is a mystery that is not lessened by the fact that none of the
askaris could recognize the type of arrow with which he was slain,
though that, of course, might be accounted for by the fact that none of
them are of this district."
"It has considerably shaken the nerves of the men," said Zora, "and I
sincerely hope that nothing similar occurs again. I have found that
it does not take much to upset these natives, and while most of them
are brave in the face of known dangers, they are apt to be entirely
demoralized by anything bordering on the supernatural."
"I think they felt better when they got the Hindu planted under
ground," said Colt, "though some of them were not at all sure that he
might not return anyway."
"There is not much chance of that," rejoined the girl, laughing.
She had scarcely ceased speaking when the branches above them rustled,
and a heavy body plunged downward to the table top between them,
crushing the flimsy piece of furniture to earth.
The two sprang to their feet, Colt whipping out his revolver and the
girl stifling a cry as she stepped back. Colt felt the hairs rise upon
his head and goose flesh form upon his arms and back, for there between
them lay the dead body of Raghunath Jafar upon its back, the dead eyes
rolled backward staring up into the night.
IV
INTO THE LION'S DEN
Nkima was angry. He had been awakened from the depth of a sound sleep,
which was bad enough, but now his master had set out upon such foolish
errands through the darkness of the night that, mingled with Nkima's
scoldings were the whimperings of fear, for in every shadow he saw
Sheeta, the panther, lurking and in each gnarled limb of the forest
the likeness of Histah, the snake. While Tarzan had remained in the
vicinity of the camp, Nkima had not been particularly perturbed, and
when he had returned to the tree with his burden the little Manu was
sure that he was going to remain there for the rest of the night; but
instead he had departed immediately and now was swinging through the
black forest with an evident fixity of purpose that boded ill for
either rest or safety for little Nkima during the remainder of the
night.
Whereas Zveri and his party had started slowly along winding jungle
trails, Tarzan moved almost in an air line through the jungle toward
his destination, which was the same as that of Zveri. The result was
that before Zveri reached the almost perpendicular crag which formed
the last and greatest natural barrier to the forbidden valley of Opar,
Tarzan and Nkima had disappeared beyond the summit and were crossing
the desolate valley, upon the far side of which loomed the great walls
and lofty spires and turrets of ancient Opar. In the bright light
of the African sun, domes and minarets shone red and gold above the
city; and once again the ape-man experienced the same feeling that had
impressed him upon the occasion, now years gone, when his eyes had
first alighted upon the splendid panorama of mystery that had unfolded
before them.
No evidence of ruin was apparent at this great distance. Once again, in
imagination, he beheld a city of magnificent beauty, its streets and
temples thronged with people; and once again his mind toyed with the
mystery of the city's origin, when back somewhere in the dim vista of
antiquity a race of rich and powerful people had conceived and built
this enduring monument to a vanished civilization. It was possible to
conceive that Opar might have existed when a glorious civilization
flourished upon the great continent of Atlantis, which, sinking beneath
the waves of the ocean, left this lost colony to death and decay.
That its few inhabitants were direct descendants of its once powerful
builders seemed not unlikely in view of the rites and ceremonies of
the ancient religion which they practiced, as well as by the fact that
by scarcely any other hypothesis could the presence of a white-skinned
people be accounted for in this remote and inaccessible African
fastness.
The peculiar laws of heredity, which seemed operative in Opar as in no
other portion of the world, suggested an origin differing materially
from that of other men; for it is a peculiar fact that the men of Opar
bear little or no resemblance to the females of their kind. The former
are short, heavy set, hairy, almost ape-like in their conformation
and appearance, while the women are slender, smooth skinned and often
beautiful. There were certain physical and mental attributes of the men
that had suggested to Tarzan the possibility that at some time in the
past the colonists had, either by choice or necessity, interbred with
the great apes of the district; and he also was aware that owing to the
scarcity of victims for the human sacrifice which their rigid worship
demanded that it was common practice among them to use for this purpose
either males or females who deviated considerably from the standard
time had established for each sex, with the result that through the
laws of natural selection an overwhelming majority of the males would
be grotesque and the females normal and beautiful.
It was with such reveries that the mind of the ape-man was occupied as
he crossed the desolate valley of Opar, which lay shimmering in the
bright sunlight that was relieved only by the shade of an occasional
gnarled and stunted tree. Ahead of him and to his right was the
small rocky hillock, upon the summit of which was located the outer
entrance to the treasure vaults of Opar. But with this he was not now
interested, his sole object being to fore-warn La of the approach of
the invaders that she might prepare her defense.
It had been long since Tarzan had visited Opar; but upon that
last occasion, when he had restored La to her loyal people and
re-established her supremacy following the defeat of the forces of
Cadj, the high priest, and the death of the latter beneath the fangs
and talons of Jad-bal-ja, he had carried away with him for the first
time a conviction of the friendliness of all of the people of Opar. He
had for years known that La was secretly his friend, but her savage,
grotesque retainers always heretofore had feared and hated him; and so
it was now that he approached Opar as one might approach any citadel of
one's friends, without stealth and without any doubt but that he would
be received in friendship.
Nkima, however, was not so sure. The gloomy ruins terrified him. He
scolded and pleaded, but all to no avail; and at last terror overcame
his love and loyalty so that, as they were approaching the outer wall,
which loomed high above them, he leaped from his master's shoulder and
scampered away from the ruins that confronted him, for deep in his
little heart was an abiding fear of strange and unfamiliar places, that
not even his confidence in Tarzan could overcome.
Nkima's keen eyes had noted the rocky hillock which they had passed
a short time before, and to the summit of this he scampered as a
comparatively safe haven from which to await the return of his master
from Opar.
As Tarzan approached the narrow fissure which alone gave entrance
through the massive outer walls of Opar, he was conscious, as he had
been years before on the occasion of his first approach to the city, of
unseen eyes upon him, and at any moment he expected to hear a greeting
when the watchers recognized him.
Without hesitation, however, and with no apprehensiveness, Tarzan
entered the narrow cleft and descended a flight of concrete steps that
led to the winding passage through the thick outer wall. The narrow
court, beyond which loomed the inner wall, was silent and deserted; nor
was the silence broken as he crossed it to another narrow passage which
led through it; at the end of this he came to a broad avenue, upon the
opposite side of which stood the crumbling ruins of the great temple of
Opar.
In silence and solitude he entered the frowning portal, flanked by its
rows of stately pillars, from the capitals of which grotesque birds
glared down upon him as they had stared through all the countless
ages since forgotten hands had carved them from the solid rock of the
monoliths. On through the temple toward the inner courtyard, where he
knew the activities of the city were carried on, Tarzan made his way
in silence. Perhaps another man would have given notice of his coming,
voicing a greeting to apprise them of his approach; but Tarzan of the
Apes in many respects is less man than beast. He goes the silent way
of most beasts, wasting no breath in useless mouthing. He had not
sought to approach Opar stealthily, and he knew that he had not arrived
unseen. Why a greeting was delayed he did not know, unless it was that,
after carrying word of his coming to La, they were waiting for her
instructions.
Through the main corridor Tarzan made his way, noting again the tablets
of gold with their ancient and long undeciphered hieroglyphics. Through
the chamber of the seven golden pillars he passed and across the golden
floor of an adjoining room, and still only silence and emptiness,
yet with vague suggestions of figures moving in the galleries that
overlooked the apartment through which he was passing; and then at
last he came to a heavy door beyond which he was sure he would find
either priests or priestesses of this great temple of the Flaming God.
Fearlessly he pushed it open and stepped across the threshold, and
in the same instant a knotted club descended heavily upon his head,
felling him senseless to the floor.
Instantly he was surrounded by a score of gnarled and knotted men;
their matted beards fell low upon their hairy chests as they rolled
forward upon their short, crooked legs. They chattered in low, growling
gutturals as they bound their victim's wrists and ankles with stout
thongs, and then they lifted him and carried him along other corridors
and through the crumbling glories of magnificent apartments to a great
tiled room, at one end of which a young woman sat upon a massive
throne, resting upon a dais a few feet above the level of the floor.
Standing beside the girl upon the throne was another of the gnarled and
knotted men. Upon his arms and legs were bands of gold and about his
throat many necklaces. Upon the floor beneath these two was a gathering
of men and women--the priests and priestesses of the Flaming God of
Opar.
Tarzan's captors carried their victim to the foot of the throne and
tossed his body upon the tile floor. Almost simultaneously the ape-man
regained consciousness and, opening his eyes, looked about him.
"Is it he?" demanded the girl upon the throne.
One of Tarzan's captors saw that he had regained consciousness and with
the help of others dragged him roughly to his feet.
"It is he, Oah," exclaimed the man at her side.
An expression of venomous hatred convulsed the face of the woman. "God
has been good to His high priestess," she said. "I have prayed for this
day to come as I prayed for the other, and as the other came so has
this."
Tarzan looked quickly from the woman to the man at her side. "What is
the meaning of this, Dooth?" he demanded. "Where is La? Where is your
high priestess?"
The girl rose angrily from her throne. "Know, man of the outer world,
that I am high priestess. I, Oah, am high priestess of the Flaming God."
Tarzan ignored her. "Where is La?" he demanded again of Dooth.
Oah flew into a frenzy of rage. "She is dead!" she screamed, advancing
to the edge of the dais as though to leap upon Tarzan, the jeweled
handle of her sacrificial knife gleaming in the sunlight, which poured
through a great aperture where a portion of the ancient roof of the
throne room had fallen in. "She is dead!" she repeated. "Dead as you
will be when next we honor the Flaming God with the life blood of a
man. La was weak. She loved you, and thus she betrayed her God, who had
chosen you for sacrifice. But Oah is strong--strong with the hate she
has nursed in her breast since Tarzan and La stole the throne of Opar
from her. Take him away!" she screamed to his captors, "and let me not
see him again until I behold him bound to the altar in the court of
sacrifice."
They cut the bonds now that secured Tarzan's ankles so that he might
walk; but even though his wrists were tied behind him it was evident
that they still held him in great fear, for they put ropes about his
neck and his arms and led him as man might lead a lion. Down into the
familiar darkness of the pits of Opar they led him, lighting the way
with torches; and when finally they had brought him to the dungeon in
which he was to be confined it was some time before they could muster
sufficient courage to cut the bonds that held his wrists, and even then
they did not do so until they had again bound his ankles securely so
that they might escape from the chamber and bolt the door before he
could release his feet and pursue them. Thus greatly had the prowess of
Tarzan impressed itself upon the brains of the crooked priests of Opar.
Tarzan had been in the dungeons of Opar before and, before, he had
escaped; and so he set to work immediately seeking for a means of
escape from his present predicament, for he knew that the chances were
that Oah would not long delay the moment for which she had prayed--the
instant when she should plunge the gleaming sacrificial knife into his
breast. Quickly removing the thongs from his ankles, Tarzan groped his
way carefully along the walls of his cell until he had made a complete
circuit of it; then, similarly, he examined the floor. He discovered
that he was in a rectangular chamber about ten feet long and eight wide
and that by standing upon his tiptoes he could just reach the ceiling.
The only opening was the door through which he had entered, in which an
aperture, protected by iron bars, gave the cell its only ventilation
but, as it opened upon a dark corridor, admitted no light. Tarzan
examined the bolts and the hinges of the door, but they were, as he
had conjectured, too substantial to be forced; and then, for the first
time, he saw that a priest sat on guard in the corridor without, thus
putting a definite end to any thoughts of surreptitious escape.
For three days and nights priests relieved each other at intervals; but
upon the morning of the fourth day Tarzan discovered that the corridor
was empty, and once again he turned his attention actively to thoughts
of escape.
It had so happened that at the time of Tarzan's capture his hunting
knife had been hidden by the tail of the leopard skin that formed his
loin cloth; and in their excitement, the ignorant, half-human priests
of Opar had overlooked it when they took his other weapons away from
him. Doubly thankful was Tarzan for this good fortune, since, for
sentimental reasons, he cherished the hunting knife of his long dead
sire--the knife that had started him upon the upward path to ascendancy
over the beasts of the jungle that day, long gone, when, more by
accident than intent, he had plunged it into the heart of Bolgani, the
gorilla. But for more practical reasons it was, indeed, a gift from
the gods, since it afforded him not only a weapon of defense, but an
instrument wherewith he might seek to make good his escape.
Years before had Tarzan of the Apes escaped from the pits of Opar,
and so he well knew the construction of their massive walls. Granite
blocks of various sizes, hand hewn to fit with perfection, were laid
in courses without mortar, the one wall that he had passed through
having been fifteen feet in thickness. Fortune had favored him upon
that occasion in that he had been placed in a cell which, unknown to
the present inhabitants of Opar, had a secret entrance, the opening of
which was closed by a single layer of loosely laid courses that the
ape-man had been able to remove without great effort.
Naturally he sought for a similar condition in the cell in which he now
found himself, but his search was not crowned with success. No single
stone could be budged from its place, anchored as each was by the
tremendous weight of the temple walls they supported; and so, perforce,
he turned his attention toward the door.
He knew that there were few locks in Opar since the present degraded
inhabitants of the city had not developed sufficient ingenuity either
to repair old ones or construct new. Those locks that he had seen were
ponderous affairs opened by huge keys and were, he guessed, of an
antiquity that reached back to the days of Atlantis; but, for the most
part, heavy bolts and bars secured such doors as might be fastened at
all, and he guessed that it was such a crude contrivance that barred
his way to freedom.
Groping his way to the door, he examined the small opening that let in
air. It was about shoulder high and perhaps ten inches square and was
equipped with four vertical iron bars half an inch square, set an inch
and a half apart--too close to permit him to insert his hands between
them, but this fact did not entirely discourage the ape-man. Perhaps
there was another way.
His steel thewed fingers closed upon the center of one of the bars.
With his left hand he clung to another, and bracing one knee high
against the door he slowly flexed his right elbow. Rolling like plastic
steel, the muscles of his forearm and his biceps swelled, until
gradually the bar bent inward toward him. The ape-man smiled as he took
a new grip upon the iron bar. Then he surged backward with all his
weight and all the strength of that mighty arm, and the bar bent to a
wide U as he wrenched it from its sockets. He tried to insert his arm
through the new opening, but it still was too small. A moment later
another bar was torn away, and now, his arm through the aperture to its
full length, he groped for the bar or bolts that held him prisoner.
At the fullest extent to which he could reach his finger-tips downward
against the door, he just touched the top of the bar, which was a
timber about three inches in thickness. Its other dimensions, however,
he was unable to ascertain, or whether it would release by raising one
end or must be drawn back through keepers. It was most tantalizing!
To have freedom almost within one's grasp and yet to be denied it was
maddening.
Withdrawing his arm from the aperture, he removed his hunting knife
from his scabbard and, again reaching outward, pressed the point of
the blade into the wood of the bar. At first he tried lifting the bar
by this means, but his knife point only pulled out of the wood. Next,
he attempted to move the bar backward in a horizontal plane, and in
this he was successful. Though the distance that he moved it in one
effort was small, he was satisfied, for he knew that patience would
win its reward. Never more than a quarter of an inch, sometimes only a
sixteenth of an inch at a time, Tarzan slowly worked the bar backward.
He worked methodically and carefully, never hurrying, never affected by
nervous anxiety, although he never knew at what moment a savage warrior
priest of Opar might make his rounds; and at last his efforts were
rewarded, and the door swung upon its hinges.
Stepping quickly out, Tarzan shot the bar behind him and, knowing no
other avenue of escape, turned back up the corridor along which his
captors had conducted him to his prison cell. Faintly in the distance
he discerned a lessening darkness, and toward this he moved upon silent
feet. As the light increased slightly, he saw that the corridor was
about ten feet wide and that at irregular intervals it was pierced by
doors, all of which were closed and secured by bolts or bars.
A hundred yards from the cell in which he had been incarcerated he
crossed a transversed corridor, and here he paused an instant to
investigate with palpitating nostrils and keen eyes and ears. In
neither direction could he discern any light, but faint sounds came
to his ears indicating that life existed somewhere behind the doors
along this corridor, and his nostrils were assailed by a medley of
scents--the sweet aroma of incense, the odor of human bodies and the
acrid scent of carnivores; but there was nothing there to attract his
further investigation, so he continued on his way along the corridor
toward the rapidly increasing light ahead.
He had advanced but a short distance when his keen ears detected the
sound of approaching footsteps. Here was no place to risk discovery.
Slowly he fell back toward the transverse corridor, seeking to take
concealment there until the danger had passed; but it was already
closer than he had imagined, and an instant later half a dozen priests
of Opar turned into the corridor from one just ahead of him. They saw
him instantly and halted, peering through the gloom.
"It is the ape-man," said one. "He has escaped," and with their knotted
cudgels and their wicked knives they advanced upon him.
That they came slowly evidenced the respect in which they held his
prowess, but still they came; and Tarzan fell back, for even he, armed
only with a knife, was no match for six of these savage half-men with
their heavy cudgels. As he retreated, a plan formed quickly in his
alert mind, and when he reached the transverse corridor he backed
slowly into it. Knowing that now that he was hidden from them they
would come very slowly, fearing that he might be lying in wait for
them, he turned and ran swiftly along the corridor. He passed several
doors, not because he was looking for any door in particular, but
because he knew that the more difficult it was for them to find him the
greater his chances of eluding them; but at last he paused before one
secured by a huge wooden bar. Quickly he raised it, opened the door and
stepped within just as the leader of the priests came into view at the
intersection of the corridor.
The instant that Tarzan stepped into the dark and gloomy chamber
beyond he knew that he had made a fatal blunder. Strong in his
nostrils was the acrid scent of Numa, the lion; the silence of the
pit was shattered by a savage roar; in the dark background he saw two
yellow-green eyes flaming with hate, and then the lion charged.
V
BEFORE THE WALLS OF OPAR
Peter Zveri established his camp on the edge of the forest at the foot
of the barrier cliff that guards the desolate valley of Opar. Here
he left his porters and a few askaris as guards and then, with his
fighting men, guided by Kitembo, commenced the arduous climb to the
summit.
None of them had ever come this way before, not even Kitembo, though
he had known the exact location of Opar from one who had seen it; and
so when the first view of the distant city broke upon them they were
filled with awe, and vague questionings arose in the primitive minds of
the black men.
It was a silent party that filed across the dusty plain toward Opar;
nor were the blacks the only members of the expedition to be assailed
with doubt, for in their black tents on distant deserts that Arabs had
imbibed with the milk of their mothers the fear of jân and ghrôl and
had heard, too, of the fabled city of Nimmr, which it was not well for
men to approach. With such thoughts and forebodings were the minds of
the men filled as they approached the towering ruins of the ancient
Atlantean city.
From the top of the great boulder that guards the outer entrance to
the treasure vaults of Opar a little monkey watched the progress
of the expedition across the valley. He was a very much distraught
little monkey, for in his heart he knew that his master should be
warned of the coming of these many Gomangani and Tarmangani with their
thundersticks; but fear of the forbidding ruins gave him pause, and so
he danced about upon the top of the rock, chattering and scolding. The
warriors of Peter Zveri marched right past and never paid any attention
to him; and as they marched, other eyes were upon them, peering from
out of the foliage of the trees that grew rank among the ruins.
If any member of the party saw a little monkey scampering quickly past
upon their right, or saw him clamber up the ruined outer wall of Opar,
he doubtless gave the matter no thought; for his mind, like the minds
of all his fellows, was occupied by speculation as to what lay within
that gloomy pile.
Kitembo did not know the location of the treasure vaults of Opar.
He had but agreed to guide Zveri to the city, but, like Zveri, he
entertained no doubt but that it would be easy to discover the vaults
if they were unable to wring its location from any of the inhabitants
of the city. Surprised, indeed, would they have been had they known
that no living Oparian knew either of the location of the treasure
vaults or of their existence and that, among all living men, only
Tarzan and some of his Waziri warriors knew their location or how to
reach them.
"The place is nothing but a deserted ruin," said Zveri to one of his
white companions.
"It is an ominous looking place though," replied the other, "and it has
already has its affect upon the men."
Zveri shrugged. "This might frighten them at night, but not in broad
daylight; they are certainly not that yellow."
They were close to the ruined outer wall now, which frowned down upon
them menacingly, and here they halted while several searched for an
opening. Abu Batn was the first to find it--the narrow crevice with
the flight of concrete steps leading upward. "Here is a way through,
Comrade," he called to Zveri.
"Take some of your men with you and reconnoiter," ordered Zveri.
Abu Batn summoned a half dozen of his black men, who advanced with
evident reluctance.
Gathering the skirt of his thôb about him, the sheykh entered the
crevice, and at the same instant a piercing screech broke from the
interior of the ruined city--a long drawn, high pitched shriek that
ended in a series of low moans. The Bedaùwy halted. The blacks froze in
terrified rigidity.
"Go on!" yelled Zveri. "A scream can't kill you!"
"Wullah!" exclaimed one of the Aarabs; "but jân can."
"Get out of there, then!" cried Zveri angrily. "If you damned cowards
are afraid to go, I'll go in myself."
There was no argument. The Aarabs stepped aside. And then a little
monkey, screaming with terror, appeared upon the top of the wall from
the inside of the city. His sudden and noisy appearance brought every
eye to bear upon him. They saw him turn an affrighted glance backward
over his shoulder and then, with a loud scream, leap far out to the
ground below. It scarcely seemed that he could survive the jump, yet it
barely sufficed to interrupt his flight, for he was on his way again in
an instant as, with prodigious leaps and bounds, he fled screaming out
across the barren plains.
It was the last straw. The shaken nerves of the superstitious blacks
gave way to the sudden strain; and almost with one accord they turned
and fled the dismal city, while close upon their heels were Abu Batn
and his desert warriors in swift and undignified retreat.
Peter Zveri and his three white companions, finding themselves suddenly
deserted, looked at one another questioningly. "The dirty cowards!"
exclaimed Zveri angrily. "You go back, Mike, and see if you can rally
them. We are going on in, now that we are here."
Michael Dorsky, only too glad of any assignment that took him farther
away from Opar, started at a brisk run after the fleeing warriors,
while Zveri turned once more into the fissure with Miguel Romero and
Paul Ivitch at his heels.
The three men passed through the outer wall and entered the courtyard,
across which they saw the lofty inner wall rising before them. Romero
was the first to find the opening that led to the city proper and,
calling to his fellows, he stepped boldly into the narrow passage. Then
once again the hideous scream shattered the brooding silence of the
ancient temple.
The three men halted. Zveri wiped the perspiration from his brow.
"I think we have gone as far as we can alone," he said. "Perhaps we
had all better go back and rally the men. There is no sense in doing
anything foolhardy." Miguel Romero threw him a contemptuous sneer, but
Ivitch assured Zveri that the suggestion met with his entire approval.
The two men crossed the court quickly without waiting to see whether
the Mexican followed them or not and were soon once again outside the
city.
"Where is Miguel?" asked Ivitch.
Zveri looked around. "Romero!" he shouted in a loud voice, but there
was no reply.
"It must have got him," said Ivitch with a shudder.
"Small loss," grumbled Zveri.
But whatever the thing was that Ivitch feared, it had not, as yet,
gotten the young Mexican, who, after watching his companions'
precipitate flight, had continued on through the opening in the inner
wall determined to have at least one look at the interior of the
ancient city of Opar that he had travelled so far to see and of the
fabulous wealth of which he had been dreaming for weeks.
Before his eyes spread a magnificent panorama of stately ruins, before
which the young and impressionable Latin-American stood spellbound;
and then once again the eerie wail rose from the interior of a great
building before him, but if he was frightened Romero gave no evidence
of it. Perhaps he grasped his rifle a little more tightly; perhaps he
loosened his revolver in his holster, but he did not retreat. He was
awed by the stately grandeur of the scene before him, where age and
ruin seemed only to enhance its pristine magnificence.
A movement within the temple caught his attention. He saw a figure
emerge from somewhere, the figure of a gnarled and knotted man that
rolled on short crooked legs; and then another and another came until
there were fully a hundred of the savage creatures approaching slowly
toward him. He saw their knotted bludgeons and their knives, and he
realized that here was a menace more effective than an unearthly scream.
With a shrug he backed into the passageway. "I cannot fight an army
single-handed," he muttered. Slowly he crossed the outer court, passed
through the first great wall and stood again upon the plain outside the
city. In the distance he saw the dust of the fleeing expedition and,
with a grin, he started in pursuit, swinging along at an easy walk as
he puffed upon a cigarette. From the top of the rocky hill at his left
a little monkey saw him pass--a little monkey, which still trembled
from fright, but whose terrified screams had become only low, pitiful
moans. It had been a hard day for little Nkima.
So rapid had been the retreat of the expedition that Zveri, with Dorsky
and Ivitch, did not overtake the main party until the greater part of
it was already descending the barrier cliffs; nor could any threats or
promises stay the retreat, which ended only when camp was reached.
Immediately Zveri called Abu Batn, together with Dorsky and Ivitch,
into council. The affair had been Zveri's first reverse, and it was a
serious one inasmuch as he had relied heavily upon the inexhaustible
store of gold to be found in the treasure vaults of Opar. First, he
berated Abu Batn, Kitembo, their ancestors and all their followers for
cowardice; but all that he accomplished was to arouse the anger and
resentment of these two.
"We came with you to fight the white men, not demons and ghosts," said
Kitembo. "I am not afraid. I would go into the city, but my men will
not accompany me and I cannot fight the enemy alone."
"Nor I," said Abu Batn, a sullen scowl still further darkening his
swart countenance.
"I know," sneered Zveri, "you are both brave men, but you are much
better runners than you are fighters. Look at us. We were not afraid.
We went in and we were not harmed."
"Where is Comrade Romero?" demanded Abu Batn.
"Well, perhaps, he is lost," admitted Zveri. "What do you expect? To
win a battle without losing a man?"
"There was no battle," said Kitembo, "and the man who went farthest
into the accursed city did not return."
Dorsky looked up suddenly. "There he is now!" he exclaimed, and as all
eyes turned up the trail toward Opar, they saw Miguel Romero strolling
jauntily into camp.
"Greeting, my brave comrades!" he cried to them. "I am glad to find you
alive. I feared that you might all succumb to heart failure."
Sullen silence greeted his raillery, and no one spoke until he had
approached and seated himself near them.
"What detained you?" demanded Zveri presently.
"I wanted to see what was beyond the inner wall," replied the Mexican.
"And you saw?" asked Abu Batn.
"I saw magnificent buildings in splendid ruin," replied Romero; "a dead
and moldering city of the dead past."
"And what else?" asked Kitembo.
"I saw a company of strange warriors, short heavy men on crooked legs,
with long powerful arms and hairy bodies. They came out of a great
building that might have been a temple. There were too many of them for
me. I could not fight them alone, so I came away."
"Did they have weapons?" asked Zveri.
"Clubs and knives," replied Romero.
"You see," exclaimed Zveri, "just a band of savages armed with clubs.
We could take the city without the loss of a man."
"What did they look like?" demanded Kitembo. "Describe them to me," and
when Romero had done so, with careful attention to details, Kitembo
shook his head. "It is as I thought," he said. "They are not men; they
are demons."
"Men or demons, we are going back there and take their city," said
Zveri angrily. "We must have the gold of Opar."
"You may go, white man," returned Kitembo, "but you will go alone. I
know my men, and I tell you that they will not follow you there. Lead
us against white men, or brown men, or black men, and we will follow
you. But we will not follow you against demons and ghosts."
"And you, Abu Batn?" demanded Zveri.
"I have talked with my men on the return from the city, and they tell
me that they will not go back there. They will not fight the jân and
ghrôl. They heard the voice of the jin warning them away, and they are
afraid."
Zveri stormed and threatened and cajoled, but all to no effect. Neither
the Aarab sheykh nor the African chief could be moved.
"There is still a way," said Romero.
"And what is that?" asked Zveri.
"When the gringo comes and the Philippine, there will be six of us who
are neither Aarabs nor Africans. We six can take Opar." Paul Ivitch
made a wry face, and Zveri cleared his throat.
"If we are killed," said the latter, "our whole plan is wrecked. There
will be no one left to carry on."
Romero shrugged. "It was only a suggestion," he said, "but, of course,
if you are afraid--"
"I am not afraid," stormed Zveri, "but neither am I a fool."
An ill-concealed sneer curved Romero's lips. "I am going to eat," he
said, and, rising, he left them.
* * * * *
The day following his advent into the camp of his fellow conspirators,
Wayne Colt wrote a long message in cipher and dispatched it to the
Coast by one of his boys. From her tent Zora Drinov had seen the
message given to the boy. She had seen him place it in the end of a
forked stick and start off upon his long journey. Shortly after, Colt
joined her in the shade of a great tree beside her tent.
"You sent a message this morning, Comrade Colt," she said.
He looked up at her quickly. "Yes," he replied.
"Perhaps you should know that only Comrade Zveri is permitted to send
messages from the expedition," she told him.
"I did not know," he said. "It was merely in relation to some funds
that were to have been awaiting me when I reached the Coast. They were
not there. I sent the boy back after them."
"Oh," she said, and then their conversation drifted to other topics.
That afternoon he took his rifle and went out to look for game and
Zora went with him, and that evening they had supper together again,
but this time she was the hostess. And so the days passed until an
excited native aroused the camp one day with an announcement that the
expedition was returning. No words were necessary to apprise those who
had been left behind that victory had not perched upon the banner of
their little army. Failure was clearly written upon the faces of the
leaders. Zveri greeted Zora and Colt, introducing the latter to his
companions, and when Tony had been similarly presented the returning
warriors threw themselves down upon cots or upon the ground to rest.
That night, as they gathered around the supper table, each party
narrated the adventures that had befallen them since the expedition had
left camp. Colt and Zora were thrilled by the stories of weird Opar,
but no less mysterious was their tale of the death of Raghunath Jafar
and his burial and uncanny resurrection.
"Not one of the boys would touch the body after that," said Zora. "Tony
and Comrade Colt had to bury him themselves."
"I hope you made a good job of it this time," said Miguel.
"He hasn't come back again," rejoined Colt with a grin.
"Who could have dug him up in the first place?" demanded Zveri.
"None of the boys certainly," said Zora. "They were all too much
frightened by the peculiar circumstances surrounding his death."
"It must have been the same creature that killed him," suggested Colt,
"and whoever or whatever it was must have been possessed of almost
superhuman strength to carry that heavy corpse into a tree and drop it
upon us."
"The most uncanny feature of it to me," said Zora, "is the fact that it
was accomplished in absolute silence. I'll swear that not even a leaf
rustled until just before the body hurtled down upon our table."
"It could have been only a man," said Zveri.
"Unquestionably," said Colt, "but what a man!"
As the company broke up later, repairing to their various tents, Zveri
detained Zora with a gesture. "I want to talk to you a minute, Zora,"
he said, and the girl sank back into the chair she had just quitted.
"What do you think of this American? You have had a good opportunity to
size him up."
"He seems to be all right. He is a very likeable fellow," replied the
girl.
"He said or did nothing, then, that might arouse your suspicion?"
demanded Zveri.
"No," said Zora, "nothing at all."
"You two have been alone here together for a number of days," continued
Zveri. "Did he treat you with perfect respect?"
"He was certainly much more respectful than your friend, Raghunath
Jafar."
"Don't mention that dog to me," said Zveri. "I wish that I had been
here to kill him myself."
"I told him that you would when you got back, but some one beat you to
it."
They were silent for several moments. It was evident that Zveri was
trying to frame into words something that was upon his mind. At last he
spoke. "Colt is a very prepossessing young man. See that you don't fall
in love with him, Zora."
"And why not?" she demanded. "I have given my mind and my strength and
my talent to the cause and, perhaps, most of my heart. But there is a
corner of it that is mine to do with as I wish."
"You mean to say that you are in love with him?" demanded Zveri.
"Certainly not. Nothing of the kind. Such an idea had not entered my
head. I just want you to know, Peter, that in matters of this kind you
may not dictate to me."
"Listen, Zora. You know perfectly well that I love you, and what is
more, I am going to have you. I get what I go after."
"Don't bore me, Peter. I have no time for anything so foolish as love
now. When we are well through with this undertaking, perhaps I shall
take the time to give it a little thought."
"I want you to give it a lot of thought right now, Zora," he insisted.
"There are some details in relation to this expedition that I have not
told you. I have not divulged them to any one, but I am going to tell
you now because I love you and you are going to become my wife. There
is more at stake in this for us than you dream. After all the thought
and all the risks and all the hardships, I do not intend to surrender
all of the power and the wealth that I shall have gained to any one."
"You mean not even to the cause?" she asked.
"I mean not even to the cause, except that I shall use them both for
the cause."
"Then what do you intend? I do not understand you," she said.
"I intend to make myself Emperor of Africa," he declared, "and I intend
to make you my empress."
"Peter!" she cried. "Are you crazy?"
"Yes, I am crazy for power, for riches, and for you."
"You can never do it, Peter. You know how far-reaching are the
tentacles of the power we serve. If you fail it, if you turn traitor,
those tentacles will reach you and drag you down to destruction."
"When I win my goal, my power will be as great as theirs, and then I
may defy them."
"But how about these others with us, who are serving loyally the cause
which they think you represent? They will tear you to pieces, Peter."
The man laughed. "You do not know them, Zora. They are all alike. All
men and women are alike. If I offered to make them Grand Dukes and give
them each a palace and a harem, they would slit their own mothers'
throats to obtain such a prize."
The girl arose. "I am astounded, Peter. I thought that you, at least,
were sincere."
He arose quickly and grasped her by the arm. "Listen, Zora," he hissed
in her ear, "I love you, and because I love you I have put my life in
your hands. But understand this, if you betray me, no matter how well I
love you, I shall kill you. Do not forget that."
"You did not have to tell me that, Peter. I was perfectly well aware of
it."
"And you will not betray me?" he demanded.
"I never betray a friend, Peter," she said.
The next morning Zveri was engaged in working out the details of a
second expedition to Opar based upon Romero's suggestions. It was
decided that this time they would call for volunteers; and as the
Europeans, the two Americans and the Filipino had already indicated
their willingness to take part in the adventure, it remained now only
to seek to enlist the services of some of the blacks and Aarabs, and
for this purpose Zveri summoned the entire company to a palaver. Here
he explained just what they purposed doing. He stressed the fact that
Comrade Romero had seen the inhabitants of the city and that they were
only members of a race of stunted savages, armed only with sticks.
Eloquently he explained how easily they might be overcome with rifles.
Practically the entire party was willing to go as far as the walls of
Opar; but there were only ten warriors who would agree to enter the
city with the white men, and all of these were from the askaris who
had been left behind to guard camp and from those who had accompanied
Colt from the Coast, none of whom had been subjected to the terrors of
Opar. Not one of those who had heard the weird screams issuing from
the ruins would agree to enter the city, and it was admitted among
the whites that it was not at all unlikely that their ten volunteers
might suddenly develop a change of heart when at last they stood before
the frowning portals of Opar and heard the weird warning cry from its
defenders.
Several days were spent in making careful preparations for the new
expedition, but at last the final detail was completed; and early one
morning Zveri and his followers set out once more upon the trail to
Opar.
Zora Drinov had wished to accompany them, but as Zveri was expecting
messages from a number of his various agents throughout Northern
Africa, it had been necessary to leave her behind. Abu Batn and his
warriors were left to guard the camp, and these, with a few black
servants, were all who did not accompany the expedition.
Since the failure of the first expedition and the fiasco at the gates
of Opar, the relations of Abu Batn and Zveri had been strained. The
sheykh and his warriors, smarting under the charges of cowardice,
had kept more to themselves than formerly; and though they would not
volunteer to enter the city of Opar, they still resented the affront of
their selection to remain behind as camp guards; and so it was that as
the others departed, the Aarabs sat in the múk'aad of their sheykh's
beyt es-sh'ar, whispering over their thick coffee, their swart scowling
faces half hidden by their thorrîbs.
They did not deign even to glance at their departing comrades, but the
eyes of Abu Batn were fixed upon the slender figure of Zora Drinov as
the sheykh sat in silent meditation.
VI
BETRAYED
The heart of little Nkima had been torn by conflicting emotions, as
from the vantage point of the summit of the rocky hillock he had
watched the departure of Miguel Romero from the city of Opar. Seeing
these brave Tarmangani, armed with death-dealing thundersticks, driven
way from the ruins, he was convinced that something terrible must have
befallen his master within the grim recesses of that crumbling pile.
His loyal heart prompted him to return and investigate, but Nkima was
only a very little Manu--a little Manu who was very much afraid; and
though he started twice again toward Opar, he could not muster his
courage to the sticking point; and at last, whimpering pitifully, he
turned back across the plains toward the grim forest, where, at least,
the dangers were familiar ones.
* * * * *
The door of the gloomy chamber which Tarzan had entered swung inward,
and his hands were still upon it as the menacing roar of the lion
apprised him of the danger of his situation. Agile and quick is Numa,
the lion, but with even greater celerity functioned the mind and
muscles of Tarzan of the Apes. In the instant that the lion sprang
toward him a picture of the whole scene flashed to the mind of the
ape-man. He saw the gnarled priests of Opar advancing along the
corridor in pursuit of him. He saw the heavy door that swung inward.
He saw the charging lion, and he pieced these various factors together
to create a situation far more to his advantage than they normally
presented. Drawing the door quickly inward, he stepped behind it
as the lion charged, with the result that the beast, either carried
forward by his own momentum or sensing escape, sprang into the corridor
full in the faces of the advancing priests, and at the same instant
Tarzan closed the door behind him.
Just what happened in the corridor without he could not see, but from
the growls and screams that receded quickly into the distance he was
able to draw a picture that brought a quiet smile to his lips; and an
instant later a piercing shriek of agony and terror announced the fate
of at least one of the fleeing Oparians.
Realizing that he would gain nothing by remaining where he was, Tarzan
decided to leave the cell and seek a way out of the labyrinthine
mazes of the pits beneath Opar. He knew that the lion upon its prey
would doubtless bar his passage along the route he had been following
when his escape had been interrupted by the priests and though, as a
last resort, he might face Numa, he was of no mind to invite such an
unnecessary risk; but when he sought to open the heavy door he found
that he could not budge it, and in an instant he realized what had
happened and that he was now in prison once again in the dungeons of
Opar.
The bar that secured this particular door was not of the sliding type
but, working upon a pin at the inner end, dropped into heavy wrought
iron keepers bolted to the door itself and to its frame. When he had
entered, he had raised the bar, which had dropped into place of its
own weight when the door slammed to, imprisoning him as effectually as
though the work had been done by the hand of man.
The darkness of the corridor without was less intense than that of the
passage upon which his former cell had been located; and though not
enough light entered the cell to illuminate its interior, there was
sufficient to show him the nature of the ventilating opening in the
door, which he found to consist of a number of small round holes, none
of which was of sufficient diameter to permit him to pass his hand
through in an attempt to raise the bar.
As Tarzan stood in momentary contemplation of his new predicament,
the sound of stealthy movement came to him from the black recesses at
the rear of the cell. He wheeled quickly, drawing his hunting knife
from its sheath. He did not have to ask himself what the author of
this sound might be, for he knew that the only other living creature
that might have occupied this cell with its former inmate was another
lion. Why it had not joined in the attack upon him, he could not guess,
but that it would eventually seize him was a foregone conclusion.
Perhaps even now it was preparing to sneak upon him. He wished that
his eyes might penetrate the darkness, for if he could see the lion as
it charged he might be better prepared to meet it. In the past he had
met the charges of other lions, but always before he had been able to
see their swift spring and to elude the sweep of their mighty talons
as they reared upon their hind legs to seize him. Now it would be
different, and for once in his life, Tarzan of the Apes felt death was
inescapable. He knew that his time had come.
He was not afraid. He simply knew that he did not wish to die and that
the price at which he would sell his life would cost his antagonist
dearly. In silence he waited. Again he heard that faint, yet ominous
sound. The foul air of the cell reeked with the stench of the
carnivores. From somewhere in a distant corridor he heard the growling
of a lion at its kill; and then a voice broke the silence.
"Who are you?" it asked. It was the voice of a woman, and it came from
the back of the cell in which the ape-man was imprisoned.
"Where are you?" demanded Tarzan.
"I am here at the back of the cell," replied the woman.
"Where is the lion?"
"He went out when you opened the door," she replied.
"Yes, I know," said Tarzan, "but the other one. Where is he?"
"There is no other one. There was but one lion here and it is gone. Ah,
now I know you!" she exclaimed. "I know the voice. It is Tarzan of the
Apes."
"La!" exclaimed the ape-man, advancing quickly across the cell. "How
could you be here with the lion and still live?"
"I am in an adjoining cell that is separated from this one by a door
made of iron bars," replied La. Tarzan heard metal hinges creak. "It is
not locked," she said. "It was not necessary to lock it, for it opens
into this other cell where the lion was."
Groping forward through the dark, the two advanced until their hands
touched one another.
La pressed close to the man. She was trembling. "I have been afraid,"
she said, "but I shall not be afraid now."
"I shall not be of much help to you," said Tarzan. "I also am a
prisoner.
"I know it," replied La, "but I always feel safe when you are near."
"Tell me what has happened," demanded Tarzan. "How is it that Oah is
posing as high priestess and you a prisoner in your own dungeons?"
"I forgave Oah her former treason when she conspired with Cadj to wrest
my power from me," explained La, "but she could not exist without
intrigue and duplicity. To further her ambitions, she made love to
Dooth, who has been high priest since Jad-bal-ja killed Cadj. They
spread stories about me through the city; and as my people have never
forgiven me for my friendship for you, they succeeded in winning enough
to their cause to overthrow and imprison me. All the ideas were Oah's,
for Dooth and the other priests, as you well know, are stupid beasts.
It was Oah's idea to imprison me thus with a lion for company, merely
to make my suffering more terrible, until the time should come when she
might prevail upon the priests to offer me in sacrifice to the Flaming
God. In that she has had some difficulty, I know, as those who had
brought my food have told me."
"How could they bring food to you here?" asked Tarzan. "No one could
pass through the outer cell while the lion was there."
"There is another opening in the lion's cell, that leads into a low,
narrow corridor into which they can drop meat from above. Thus they
would entice the lion from this outer cell, after which they would
lower a gate of iron bars across the opening of the small corridor into
which he went, and while he was thus imprisoned they brought my food
to me. But they did not feed him much. He was always hungry and often
growling and pawing at the bars of my cell. Perhaps Oah hoped that some
day he would batter them down."
"Where does this other corridor, in which they fed the lion, lead?"
asked Tarzan.
"I do not know," replied La, "but I imagine that it is only a blind
tunnel built in ancient times for this very purpose."
"We must have a look at it," said Tarzan. "It may offer a means of
escape."
"Why not escape through the door by which you entered?" asked La; and
when the ape-man had explained why this was impossible, she pointed out
the location of the entrance to the small tunnel.
"We must get out of here as quickly as possible, if it is possible at
all," said Tarzan, "for if they are able to capture the lion, they will
certainly return him to this cell."
"They will capture him," said La. "There is no question as to that."
"Then I had better hurry and make my investigation of the tunnel, for
it might prove embarrassing were they to return him to the cell while I
was in the tunnel, if it proved to be a blind one."
"I will listen at the outer door while you investigate," offered La.
"Make haste."
Groping his way toward the section of the wall that La had indicated,
Tarzan found a heavy grating of iron closing an aperture leading into a
low and narrow corridor. Lifting the barrier, Tarzan entered and with
his hands extended before him moved forward in a crouching position,
since the low ceiling would not permit him to stand erect. He had
progressed but a short distance when he discovered that the corridor
made an abrupt right-angle turn to the left, and beyond the turn he
saw at a short distance a faint luminosity. Moving quickly forward, he
came to the end of the corridor, at the bottom of a vertical shaft, the
interior of which was illuminated by subdued daylight. The shaft was
constructed of the usual rough-hewn granite of the foundation walls of
the city, but here set with no great nicety or precision, giving the
interior of the shaft a rough and uneven surface.
As Tarzan was examining it, he heard La's voice coming along the tunnel
from the cell in which he had left her. Her tone was one of excitement,
and her message one that presaged a situation wrought with extreme
danger to them both.
"Make haste, Tarzan. They are returning with the lion!"
The ape-man hurried quickly back to the mouth of the tunnel.
"Quick!" he cried to La, as he raised the gate that had fallen behind
him after he had passed through.
"In there?" she demanded in an affrighted voice.
"It is our only chance of escape," replied the ape-man.
Without another word La crowded into the corridor beside him. Tarzan
lowered the grating and, with La following closely behind him, returned
to the opening leading into the shaft. Without a word, he lifted La
in his arms and raised her as high as he could, nor did she need to
be told what to do. With little difficulty she found both hand and
footholds upon the rough surface of the interior of the shaft, and with
Tarzan just below her, assisting and steadying her, she made her way
slowly aloft.
The shaft led directly upward into a room in the tower, which
overlooked the entire city of Opar; and here, concealed by the
crumbling walls, they paused to formulate their plans.
They both knew that their greatest danger lay in discovery by one
of the numerous monkeys infesting the ruins of Opar, with which the
inhabitants of the city are able to converse. Tarzan was anxious to be
away from Opar that he might thwart the plans of the white men who had
invaded his domain. But first he wished to bring about the downfall of
La's enemies and reinstate her upon the throne of Opar, or if that
should prove impossible, to insure the safety of her flight.
As he viewed her now in the light of day he was struck again by the
matchlessness of her deathless beauty that neither time, nor care,
nor danger seemed capable of dimming, and he wondered what he should
do with her; where he could take her; where this savage priestess of
the Flaming God could find a place in all the world, outside the walls
of Opar, with the environments of which she would harmonize. And as
he pondered, he was forced to admit to himself that no such place
existed. La was of Opar, a savage queen born to rule a race of savage
half-men. As well introduce a tigress to the salons of civilization as
La of Opar. Two or three thousand years earlier she might have been a
Cleopatra or a Sheba, but today she could be only La of Opar.
For some time they had sat in silence, the beautiful eyes of the high
priestess resting upon the profile of the forest god. "Tarzan!" she
said.
The man looked up. "What is it, La?" he asked.
"I still love you, Tarzan," she said in a low voice.
A troubled expression came into the eyes of the ape-man. "Let us not
speak of that."
"I like to speak of it," she murmured. "It gives me sorrow, but it is a
sweet sorrow--the only sweetness that has ever come into my life."
Tarzan extended a bronzed hand and laid it upon her slender, tapering
fingers. "You have always possessed my heart, La," he said, "up to the
point of love. If my affection goes no further than this, it is through
no fault of mine nor yours."
La laughed. "It is certainly through no fault of mine, Tarzan," she
said, "but I know that such things are not ordered by ourselves.
Love is a gift of the gods. Sometimes it is awarded as a recompense;
sometimes as a punishment. For me it has been a punishment, perhaps,
but I would not have it otherwise. I had nurtured it in my breast since
first I met you; and without that love, however hopeless it may be, I
should not care to live."
Tarzan made no reply, and the two relapsed into silence, waiting
for night to fall that they might descend into the city unobserved.
Tarzan's alert mind was occupied with plans for reinstating La upon her
throne, and presently they fell to discussing these.
"Just before the Flaming God goes to his rest at night," said La, "the
priests and the priestesses all gather in the throne room. There they
will be tonight before the throne upon which Oah will be seated. Then
may we descend to the city."
"And then what?" asked Tarzan.
"If we can kill Oah in the throne room," said La, "and Dooth at the
same time, they would have no leaders; and without leaders they are
lost."
"I cannot kill a woman," said Tarzan.
"I can," returned La, "and you can attend to Dooth. You certainly would
not object to killing him?"
"If he attacked, I would kill him," said Tarzan, "but not otherwise.
Tarzan of the Apes kills only in self-defense and for food, or when
there is no other way to thwart an enemy."
In the floor of the ancient room in which they were waiting were
two openings; one was the mouth of the shaft through which they had
ascended from the dungeons, the other opened into a similar but larger
shaft, to the bottom of which ran a long wooden ladder set in the
masonry of its sides. It was this shaft which offered them a means of
escape from the tower, and as Tarzan sat with his eyes resting idly
upon the opening, an unpleasant thought suddenly obtruded itself upon
his consciousness.
He turned toward La. "We had forgotten," he said, "that whoever casts
the meat down the shaft to the lion must ascend by this other shaft. We
may not be as safe from detection here as we had hoped."
"They do not feed the lion very often," said La; "not every day."
"When did they feed him last?" asked Tarzan.
"I do not recall," said La. "Time drags so heavily in the darkness of
the cell that I lost count of days."
"S-st!" cautioned Tarzan. "Someone is ascending now."
Silently the ape-man arose and crossed the floor to the opening, where
he crouched upon the side opposite the ladder. La moved stealthily
to his side, so that the ascending man, whose back would be toward
them, as he emerged from the shaft, would not see them. Slowly the man
ascended. They could hear his shuffling progress coming nearer and
nearer to the top. He did not climb as the ape-like priests of Opar are
wont to climb. Tarzan thought perhaps he was carrying a load either
of such weight or cumbersomeness as to retard his progress, but when
finally his head came into view the ape-man saw that he was an old man,
which accounted for his lack of agility; and then powerful fingers
closed about the throat of the unsuspecting Oparian, and he was lifted
bodily out of the shaft.
"Silence!" said the ape-man. "Do as you are told and you will not be
harmed."
La had snatched a knife from the girdle of their victim, and now Tarzan
forced him to the floor of the room and slightly released his hold upon
the fellow's throat, turning him around so that he faced them.
An expression of incredulity and surprise crossed the face of the old
priest as his eyes fell upon La.
"Darus!" exclaimed La.
"All honor to the Flaming God who has ordered your escape!" exclaimed
the priest.
La turned to Tarzan. "You need not fear Darus," she said; "he will not
betray us. Of all the priests of Opar, there never lived one more loyal
to his queen."
"That is right," said the old man, shaking his head.
"Are there many more loyal to the high priestess, La?" demanded Tarzan.
"Yes, very many," replied Darus, "but they are afraid. Oah is a
she-devil and Dooth is a fool. Between the two of them there is no
longer either safety or happiness in Opar."
"How many are there whom you absolutely know may be depended upon?"
demanded La.
"Oh, very many," replied Darus.
"Gather them in the throne room tonight then, Darus; and as the Flaming
God goes to his couch, be ready to strike at the enemies of La, your
priestess."
"You will be there?" asked Darus.
"I shall be there," replied La. "This, your dagger, shall be the
signal. When you see La of Opar plunge it into the breast of Oah, the
false priestess, fall upon those who are the enemies of La."
"It shall be done, just as you say," Darus assured her, "and now I must
throw this meat to the lion and be gone."
Slowly the old priest descended the ladder, gibbering and muttering
to himself, after he had cast a few bones and scraps of meat into the
other shaft to the lion.
"You are quite sure you can trust him, La?" demanded Tarzan.
"Absolutely," replied the girl. "Darus would die for me, and I know
that he hates Oah and Dooth."
The slow remaining hours of the afternoon dragged on, the sun was low
in the west, and now the two must take their greatest risk, that of
descending into the city while it was still light and making their way
to the throne room, although the risk was greatly minimized by the fact
that the inhabitants of the city were all supposed to be congregated in
the throne room at this time, performing the age-old rite with which
they speeded the Flaming God to his night of rest. Without interruption
they descended to the base of the tower, crossed the courtyard and
entered the temple. Here, through devious and round-about passages,
La led the way to a small doorway that opened into the throne room at
the back of the dais upon which the throne stood. Here she paused,
listening to the services being conducted within the great chamber,
waiting for the cue that would bring them to a point when all within
the room, except the high priestess, were prostrated with their faces
pressed against the floor.
When that instant arrived, La swung open the door and leaped silently
upon the dais behind the throne in which her victim sat. Close behind
her came Tarzan, and in that first instant both realized that they had
been betrayed, for the dais was swarming with priests ready to seize
them.
Already one had caught La by an arm, but before he could drag her away
Tarzan sprang upon him, seized him by the neck and jerked his head
backward so suddenly and with such force that the sound of his snapping
vertebra could be heard across the room. Then he raised the body high
above his head and cast it into the faces of the priests charging
upon him. As they staggered back, he seized La and swung her into the
corridor along which they had approached the throne room.
It was useless to stand and fight, for he knew that even though he
might hold his own for awhile, they must eventually overcome him and
that once they laid their hands upon La they would tear her limb from
limb.
Down the corridor behind them came the yelling horde of priests, and in
their wake, screaming for the blood of her victim, was Oah.
"Make for the outer walls by the shortest route, La," directed Tarzan,
and the girl sped on winged feet, leading him through the labyrinthine
corridors of the ruins, until they broke suddenly into the chamber of
the seven pillars of gold, and then Tarzan knew the way.
No longer needing his guide, and realizing that the priests were
overtaking them, being fleeter of foot than La, he swept the girl into
his arms and sped through the echoing chambers of the temple toward the
inner wall. Through that, across the courtyard and through the outer
wall they passed, and still the priests pursued, urged on by screaming
Oah. Out across the deserted valley they fled; and now the priests were
losing ground, for their short, crooked legs could not compete with the
speed of Tarzan's clean limbed stride, even though he was burdened by
the weight of La.
The sudden darkness of the near tropics that follows the setting of the
sun soon obliterated the pursuers from their sight; and a short time
thereafter the sounds of pursuit ceased, and Tarzan knew that the chase
had been abandoned, for the men of Opar have no love for the darkness
of the outer world.
Then Tarzan paused and lowered La to the ground; but as he did so her
soft arms encircled his neck and she pressed close to him, her cheek
against his breast, and burst into tears.
"Do not cry, La," he said. "We shall come again to Opar, and when we do
you shall be seated upon your throne again.
"I am not crying for that," she replied.
"Then why do you cry?" he asked.
"I am crying for joy," she said, "joy that perhaps I shall be alone
with you now for a long time."
In pity, Tarzan pressed her to him for a moment, and then they set off
once more toward the barrier cliff.
That night they slept in a great tree in the forest at the foot of the
cliff, after Tarzan had constructed a rude couch for La between two
branches, while he settled himself in a crotch of the tree a few feet
below her.
It was dawn when Tarzan awoke. The sky was overcast, and he sensed an
approaching storm. No food had passed his lips for many hours, and he
knew that La had not eaten since the morning of the previous day. Food,
therefore, was a prime essential and he must find it and return to La
before the storm broke. Since it was meat that he craved, he knew that
he must be able to make fire and cook it before La could eat it, though
he himself still preferred it raw. He looked into La's cot and saw
that she was still asleep. Knowing that she must be exhausted from all
that she had passed through the previous day, he let her sleep on; and
swinging to a nearby tree, he set out upon his search for food.
As he moved up wind through the middle terrace, every faculty of his
delicately attuned senses was alert. Like the lion, Tarzan particularly
relished the flesh of Pacco, the zebra, but either Bara, the antelope,
or Horta, the boar, would have proven an acceptable substitute; but
the forest seemed to be deserted by every member of the herds he
sought. Only the scent spoor of the great cats assailed his nostrils,
mingled with the lesser and more human odor of Manu, the monkey. Time
means little to a hunting beast. It meant little to Tarzan, who, having
set out in search of meat, would return only when he had found meat.
When La awakened, it was some time before she could place her
surroundings; but when she did, a slow smile of happiness and
contentment parted her lovely lips, revealing an even row of perfect
teeth. She sighed, and then she whispered the name of the man she
loved. "Tarzan!" she called.
There was no reply. Again she spoke his name, but this time louder, and
again the only answer was silence. Slightly troubled, she arose upon an
elbow and leaned over the side of her sleeping couch. The tree beneath
her was empty.
She thought, correctly, that perhaps he had gone to hunt, but still
she was troubled by his absence, and the longer she waited the more
troubled she became. She knew that he did not love her and that she
must be a burden to him. She knew, too, that he was as much a wild
beast as the lions of the forest and that the same desire for freedom,
which animated them, must animate him. Perhaps he had been unable to
withstand the temptation longer and while she slept, he had left her.
There was not a great deal in the training or ethics of La of Opar that
could have found exception to such conduct, for the life of her people
was a life of ruthless selfishness and cruelty. They entertained few
of the finer sensibilities of civilized man, or the great nobility of
character that marked so many of the wild beasts. Her love for Tarzan
had been the only soft spot in La's savage life, and realizing that she
would think nothing of deserting a creature she did not love, she was
fair enough to cast no reproaches upon Tarzan for having done the thing
that she might have done, nor to her mind did it accord illy with her
conception of his nobility of character.
As she descended to the ground, she sought to determine some plan
of action for the future, and in this moment of her loneliness and
depression she saw no alternative but to return to Opar, and so it
was toward the city of her birth that she turned her steps; but she
had not gone far before she realized the danger and futility of this
plan, which could but lead to certain death while Oah and Dooth ruled
in Opar. She felt bitterly toward Darus, who she believed had betrayed
her; and accepting his treason as an index of what she might expect
from others whom she had believed to be friendly to her, she realized
the utter hopelessness of regaining the throne of Opar without outside
help. La had no happy life to which she might look forward; but the
will to live was yet strong within her, the result more, perhaps, of
the courageousness of her spirit than of any fear of death, which, to
her, was but another word for defeat.
She paused in the trail that she had reached a short distance from
the tree in which she had spent the night; and there, with almost
nothing to guide her, she sought to determine in what direction she
should break a new trail into the future, for wherever she went, other
than back to Opar, it would be a new trail, leading among peoples and
experiences as foreign to her as though she had suddenly stepped from
another planet, or from the long-lost continent of her progenitors.
It occurred to her that perhaps there might be other people in this
strange world as generous and chivalrous as Tarzan. At least in this
direction there lay hope. In Opar there was none, and so she turned
back away from Opar; and above her black clouds rolled and billowed as
the storm king marshalled his forces, and behind her a tawny beast with
gleaming eyes slunk through the underbrush beside the trail that she
followed.
VII
IN FUTILE SEARCH
Tarzan of the Apes, ranging far in search of food, caught at length
the welcome scent of Horta, the boar. The man paused and, with a deep
and silent inhalation, filled his lungs with air until his great
bronzed chest expanded to the full. Already he was tasting the fruits
of victory. The red blood coursed through his veins, as every fiber of
his being reacted to the exhilaration of the moment--the keen delight
of the hunting beast that has scented its quarry. And then swiftly and
silently he sped in the direction of his prey.
Presently he came upon it, a young tusker, powerful and agile, his
wicked tusks gleaming as he tore bark from a young tree. The ape-man
was poised just above him, concealed by the foliage of a great tree.
A vivid flash of lightning broke from the billowing black clouds above.
Thunder crashed and boomed. The storm broke, and at the same instant
the man launched himself downward upon the back of the unsuspecting
boar, in one hand the hunting knife of his long-dead sire.
The weight of the man's body crushed the boar to the earth, and before
it could struggle to its feet again, the keen blade had severed its
jugular. Its life blood gushing from the wound, the boar sought to rise
and turn to fight; but the steel thews of the ape-man dragged it down,
and an instant later, with a last convulsive shudder, Horta died.
Leaping to his feet, Tarzan placed a foot upon the carcass of his kill
and, raising his face to the heavens, gave voice to the victory cry of
the bull-ape.
Faintly to the ears of marching men came the hideous scream. The blacks
in the party halted, wide-eyed.
"What the devil was that?" demanded Zveri.
"It sounded like a panther," said Colt.
"That was no panther," said Kitembo. "It was the cry of a bull-ape who
has made a kill, or--"
"Or what?" demanded Zveri.
Kitembo looked fearfully in the direction from which the sound had
come. "Let us get away from here," he said.
Again the lightning flashed and the thunder crashed, and as the
torrential rain deluged them, the party staggered on in the direction
of the barrier cliffs of Opar.
* * * * *
Cold and wet, La of Opar crouched beneath a great tree that only
partially protected her almost naked body from the fury of the storm,
and in the dense underbrush a few yards from her a tawny carnivore lay
with unblinking eyes fixed steadily upon her.
The storm, titanic in its brief fury, passed on, leaving the deep
worn trail a tiny torrent of muddy water; and La, thoroughly chilled,
hastened onward in an effort to woo new warmth to her chilled body.
She knew that trails must lead somewhere, and in her heart she hoped
that this one would lead to the country of Tarzan. If she could live
there, seeing him occasionally, she would be content. Even knowing
that he was near her would be better than nothing. Of course she had
no conception of the immensity of the world she trod. A knowledge of
even the extent of the forest that surrounded her would have appalled
her. In her imagination she visualized a small world, dotted with the
remains of ruined cities like Opar, in which dwelt creatures like those
she had known; gnarled and knotted men like the priests of Opar, white
men like Tarzan, black men such as she had seen, and great shaggy
gorillas like Bolgani, who had ruled in the Valley of the Palace of
Diamonds.
And thinking these thoughts, she came at last to a clearing into which
the unbroken rays of the warm sun poured without interruption. Near
the center of the clearing was a small boulder; and toward this she
made her way with the intention of basking in the warm rays of the
sun until she should be thoroughly dried and warmed, for the dripping
foliage of the forest had kept her wet and cold even after the rain had
ceased.
As she seated herself she saw a movement at the edge of the clearing
ahead of her, and an instant later a great leopard bounded into view.
The beast paused at sight of the woman, evidently as much surprised
as she; and then, apparently realizing the defenselessness of this
unexpected prey, the creature crouched and with twitching tail slowly
wormed itself forward.
La rose and drew from her girdle the knife that she had taken from
Darus. She knew that flight was futile. In a few bounds the great beast
could overtake her, and even had there been a tree that she could have
reached before she was overtaken, it would have proven no sanctuary
from a leopard. Defense, too, she knew to be futile, but surrender
without battle was not within the fiber of La of Opar.
The metal discs, elaborately wrought by the hands of some long-dead
goldsmith of ancient Opar, rose and fell above her firm breasts as
her heart beat, perhaps a bit more rapidly, beneath them. On came the
leopard. She knew that in an instant he would charge; and then of a
sudden he rose to his feet, his back arched, his mouth grinning in a
fearful snarl; and simultaneously a tawny streak whizzed by her from
behind, and she saw a great lion leap upon her would-be destroyer.
At the last instant, but too late, the leopard had turned to flee; and
the lion seized him by the back of the neck, and with his jaws and
one great paw he twisted the head back until the spine snapped. Then,
almost contemptuously, he cast the body from him and turned toward the
girl.
In an instant La realized what had happened. The lion had been stalking
her, and seeing another about to seize his prey, he had leaped to
battle in its defense. She had been saved, but only to fall victim
immediately to another and more terrible beast.
The lion stood looking at her. She wondered why he did not charge and
claim his prey. She did not know that within that little brain the
scent of the woman had aroused the memory of another day, when Tarzan
had lain bound upon the sacrificial altar of Opar with Jad-bal-ja, the
golden lion, standing guard above him. A woman had come--this same
woman--and Tarzan, his master, had told him not to harm her, and she
had approached and cut the bonds that secured him.
This Jad-bal-ja remembered, and he remembered, too, that he was not to
harm this woman; and if he was not to harm her, then nothing must harm
her. For this reason he had killed Sheeta, the leopard.
But all this, La of Opar did not know, for she had not recognized
Jad-bal-ja. She merely wondered how much longer it would be; and when
the lion came closer she steeled herself, for still she meant to fight;
yet there was something in his attitude that she could not understand.
He was not charging; he was merely walking toward her, and when he was
a couple of yards from her he half turned away and lay down and yawned.
For what seemed an eternity to the girl she stood there watching him.
He paid no attention to her. Could it be that, sure of his prey and not
yet hungry, he merely waited until he was quite ready to make his kill?
The idea was horrible, and even La's iron nerves commenced to weaken
beneath the strain.
She knew that she could not escape, and so better instant death than
this suspense. She determined, therefore, to end the matter quickly and
to discover once and for all whether the lion considered her already
his prey or would permit her to depart. Gathering all the forces of
self-control that she possessed, she placed the point of her dagger to
her heart and walked boldly past the lion. Should he attack her, she
would end the agony instantly by plunging the blade into her heart.
Jad-bal-ja did not move, but with lazy, half-closed eyes he watched the
woman cross the clearing and disappear beyond the turn of the trail
that wound its way back into the jungle.
All that day La moved on with grim determination, looking always for
a ruined city like Opar, astonished by the immensity of the forest,
appalled by its loneliness. Surely, she thought, she must soon come to
the country of Tarzan. She found fruits and tubers to allay her hunger,
and as the trail descended a valley in which a river ran, she did not
want for water. But night came again, and still no sight of man or
city. Once again she crept into a tree to sleep, but this time there
was no Tarzan of the Apes to fashion a couch for her or to watch over
her safety.
* * * * *
After Tarzan had slain the boar, he cut off the hind quarters and
started back to the tree in which he had left La. The storm made
his progress much slower than it otherwise would have been, but
notwithstanding this he realized long before he reached his destination
that his hunting had taken him much farther afield than he had imagined.
When at last he reached the tree and found that La was not there, he
was slightly disconcerted, but thinking that perhaps she had descended
to stretch her limbs after the storm, he called her name aloud several
times. Receiving no answer, he became genuinely apprehensive for her
safety and, dropping to the ground, sought some sign of her spoor. It
so happened that beneath the tree her footprints were still visible,
not having been entirely obliterated by the rain. He saw that they led
back in the direction of Opar, so that, although he lost them when they
reached the trail, in which water still was running, he was none the
less confident that he knew her intended destination; and so he set off
in the direction of the barrier cliff.
It was not difficult for him to account for her absence and for the
fact that she was returning to Opar, and he reproached himself for his
thoughtlessness in having left her for so long a time without first
telling her of his purpose. He guessed, rightly, that she had imagined
herself deserted and had turned back to the only home she knew, to the
only place in the world where La of Opar might hope to find friends;
but that she would find them even there Tarzan doubted, and he was
determined that she must not go back until she could do so with a force
of warriors sufficiently great to insure the overthrow of her enemies.
It had been Tarzan's plan first to thwart the scheme of the party whose
camp he had discovered in his dominion and then to return with La to
the country of his Waziri, where he would gather a sufficient body of
those redoubtable warriors to insure the safety and success of La's
return to Opar. Never communicative, he had neglected to explain his
purposes to La; and this he now regretted, since he was quite certain
that had he done so she would not have felt it necessary to have
attempted to return alone to Opar.
But he was not much concerned with the outcome since he was confident
that he could overtake her long before she reached the city; and,
enured as he was to the dangers of the forest and the jungle, he
minimized their importance, as we do those which confront us daily in
the ordinary course of our seemingly humdrum existence, where death
threatens us quite as constantly as it does the denizens of the jungle.
At any moment expecting to catch sight of her whom he sought, Tarzan
traversed the back trail to the foot of the rocky escarpment that
guards the plain of Opar; and now he commenced to have his doubts, for
it did not seem possible that La could have covered so great a distance
in so short a time. He scaled the cliff and came out upon the summit of
the flat mountain that overlooked distant Opar. Here only a light rain
had fallen, the storm having followed the course of the valley below,
and plain in the trail were the footprints of himself and La where they
had passed down from Opar the night before; but nowhere was there any
sign of spoor to indicate that the girl had returned, nor, as he looked
out across the valley, was there any moving thing in sight.
What had become of her? Where could she have gone? In the great forest
that spread below him there were countless trails. Somewhere below, her
spoor must be plain in the freshly-wet earth, but he realized that
even for him it might prove a long and difficult task to pick it up
again.
As he turned back rather sorrowfully to descend the barrier cliff, his
attention was attracted by a movement at the edge of the forest below.
Dropping to his belly behind a low bush, Tarzan watched the spot to
which his attention had been attracted; and as he did so the head of a
column of men debouched from the forest and moved toward the foot of
the cliff.
Tarzan had known nothing of what had transpired upon the occasion of
Zveri's first expedition to Opar, which had occurred while he had been
incarcerated in the cell beneath the city. The apparent mysterious
disappearance of the party that he had known to have been marching on
Opar had mystified him; but here it was again, and where it had been in
the meantime was of no moment.
Tarzan wished that he had his bow and arrow, which the Oparians had
taken from him and which he had not had an opportunity to replace since
he had escaped. But if he did not have them, there were other ways of
annoying the invaders. From his position he watched them approach the
cliff and commence the ascent.
Tarzan selected a large boulder, many of which were strewn about the
flat top of the mountain, and when the leaders of the party were about
half way to the summit and the others were strung out below them, the
ape-man pushed the rock over the edge of the cliff just above them. In
its descent it just grazed Zveri, struck a protuberance beyond him,
bounded over Colt's head, and carried two of Kitembo's warriors to
death at the base of the escarpment.
The ascent stopped instantly. Several of the blacks who had accompanied
the first expedition started a hasty retreat; and utter disorganization
and rout faced the expedition, whose nerves had become more and more
sensitive the nearer that they approached Opar.
"Stop the damn cowards!" shouted Zveri to Dorsky and Ivitch, who were
bringing up the rear. "Who will volunteer to go over the top and
investigate?"
"I'll go," said Romero.
"And I'll go with him," offered Colt.
"Who else?" demanded Zveri; but no one else volunteered, and already
the Mexican and the American were climbing upward.
"Cover our advance with a few rifles," Colt shouted back to Zveri.
"That ought to keep them away from the edge."
Zveri issued instructions to several of the askaris who had not joined
in the retreat; and when their rifles commenced popping, it put new
heart into those who had started to flee, and presently Dorsky and
Ivitch had rallied the men and the ascent was resumed.
Perfectly well aware that he might not stop the advance single-handed,
Tarzan had withdrawn quickly along the edge of the cliff to a spot
where tumbled masses of granite offered concealment and where he knew
that there existed a precipitous trail to the bottom of the cliff. Here
he could remain and watch, or, if necessary, make a hasty retreat. He
saw Romero and Colt reach the summit and immediately recognized the
latter as the man he had seen in the base camp of the invaders. He had
previously been impressed by the appearance of the young American, and
now he acknowledged his unquestioned bravery and that of his companion
in leading a party over the summit of the cliff in the face of an
unknown danger.
Romero and Colt looked quickly about them, but there was no enemy in
sight, and this word they passed back to the ascending company.
From his point of vantage Tarzan watched the expedition surmount the
summit of the cliff and start on its march toward Opar. He believed
that they could never find the treasure vaults; and now that La was not
in the city, he was not concerned with the fate of those who had turned
against her. Upon the bare and inhospitable Oparian plain, or in the
city itself, they could accomplish little in furthering the objects
of the expedition he had overheard Zora Drinov explaining to Colt. He
knew that eventually they must return to their base camp, and in the
meantime he would prosecute his search for La; and so as Zveri led his
expedition once again toward Opar, Tarzan of the Apes slipped over the
edge of the barrier cliff and descended swiftly to the forest below.
Just inside the forest and upon the bank of the river was an admirable
camp site; and having noticed that the expedition was accompanied by no
porters, Tarzan naturally assumed that they had established a temporary
camp within striking distance of the city, and it occurred to him that
in this camp he might find La a prisoner.
As he had expected, he found the camp located upon the spot where,
upon other occasions, he had camped with his Waziri warriors. An old
thorn boma that had encircled it for years had been repaired by the
newcomers, and within it a number of rude shelters had been erected,
while in the center stood the tents of the white men. Porters were
dozing in the shade of the trees; a single askari made a pretense of
standing guard, while his fellows lolled at their ease, their rifles at
their sides; but nowhere could he see La of Opar.
He moved down wind from the camp, hoping to catch her scent spoor if
she was a prisoner there, but so strong was the smell of smoke and
the body odors of the blacks that he could not be sure but that these
drowned La's scent. He decided, therefore, to wait until darkness
had fallen when he might make a more careful investigation, and he
was further prompted to this decision by the sight of weapons, which
he sorely needed. All of the warriors were armed with rifles, but
some, clinging through force of ancient habit to the weapons of their
ancestors, carried also bows and arrows, and in addition there were
many spears.
As a few mouthfuls of the raw flesh of Horta had constituted the
only food that had passed Tarzan's lips for almost two days, he was
ravenously hungry. With the discovery that La had disappeared, he had
cached the hind quarter of the boar in the tree in which they had
spent the night and set out upon his fruitless search for her; so now,
while he waited for darkness, he hunted again, and this time Bara, the
antelope, fell a victim to his prowess, nor did he leave the carcass
of his kill until he had satisfied his hunger. Then he lay up in a
nearby tree and slept.
* * * * *
The anger of Abu Batn against Zveri was rooted deeply in his inherent
racial antipathy for Europeans and their religion, and its growth
was stimulated by the aspersions which the Russian had cast upon the
courage of the Aarab and his followers.
"Dog of a Nasrâny!" ejaculated the sheykh. "He called us cowards, we
Bedaùwy, and he left us here like old men and boys to guard the camp
and the woman."
"He is but an instrument of Allah," said one of the Aarabs, "in the
great cause that will rid Africa of all Nasrâny."
"Wellah-billah!" ejaculated Abu Batn. "What proof have we that these
people will do as they promise? I would rather have my freedom on the
desert and what wealth I can gather by myself than to lie longer in the
same camp with these Nasrâny pigs."
"There is no good in them," muttered another.
"I have looked upon their woman," said the sheykh, "and I find her
good. I know a city where she would bring many pieces of gold."
"In the trunk of the chief Nasrâny there are many pieces of gold and
silver," said one of the men. "His boy told that to a Galla, who
repeated it to me."
"The plunder of the camp is rich besides," suggested a swarthy warrior.
"If we do this thing, perhaps the great cause will be lost," suggested
he who had first answered the sheykh.
"It is the cause of the Nasrâny," said Abu Batn, "and it is only for
profit. Is not the huge pig always reminding us of the money, and the
women, and the power that we shall have when we have thrown out the
English? Man is moved only by his greed. Let us take our profits in
advance and be gone."
Wamala was preparing the evening meal for his mistress. "Before, you
were left with the brown bwana," he said, "and he was no good; nor do I
like any better the sheykh Abu Batn. He is no good. I wish that Bwana
Colt were here."
"So do I," said Zora. "It seems to me that the Aarabs have been sullen
and surly ever since the expedition returned from Opar."
"They have sat all day in the tent of their chief talking together,"
said Wamala, "and often Abu Batn looked at you."
"That is your imagination, Wamala," replied the girl. "He would not
dare to harm me."
"Who would have thought that the brown bwana would have dared to?"
Wamala reminded her.
"Hush, Wamala, the first thing you know you will have me frightened,"
said Zora, and then suddenly, "Look, Wamala! Who is that?"
The black boy turned his eyes in the direction toward which his
mistress was looking. At the edge of the camp stood a figure that might
have wrung an exclamation of surprise from a Stoic. A beautiful woman
stood there regarding them intently. She had halted just at the edge
of camp--an almost naked woman whose gorgeous beauty was her first
and most striking characteristic. Two golden discs covered her firm
breasts, and a narrow stomacher of gold and precious stones encircled
her hips, supporting in front and behind a broad strip of soft leather,
studded with gold and jewels, which formed the pattern of a pedestal on
the summit of which was seated a grotesque bird. Her feet were shod in
sandals that were covered with mud, as were her shapely legs upward to
above her knees. A mass of wavy hair, shot with golden bronze lights
by the rays of the setting sun, half surrounded an oval face, and from
beneath narrow penciled brows fearless gray eyes regarded them.
Some of the Aarabs had caught sight of her, too, and they were coming
forward now toward her. She looked quickly from Zora and Wamala toward
the others. Then the European girl arose quickly and approached her
that she might reach her before the Aarabs did; and as she came near
the stranger with outstretched hands, Zora smiled. La of Opar came
quickly to meet her as though sensing in the smile of the other an
index to the friendly intent of this stranger.
"Who are you," asked Zora, "and what are you doing here alone in the
jungle?"
La shook her head and replied in a language that Zora did not
understand.
Zora Drinov was an accomplished linguist but she exhausted every
language in her repertoire, including a few phrases from various Bantu
dialects, and still found no means of communicating with the stranger,
whose beautiful face and figure but added to the interest of the
tantalizing enigma she presented to pique the curiosity of the Russian
girl.
The Aarabs addressed her in their own tongue and Wamala in the dialect
of his tribe, but all to no avail. Then Zora put an arm about her and
led her toward her tent; and there, by means of signs, La of Opar
indicated that she would bathe. Wamala was directed to prepare a tub
in Zora's tent, and by the time supper was prepared the stranger
reappeared, washed and refreshed.
As Zora Drinov seated herself opposite her strange guest, she was
impressed with the belief that never before had she looked upon so
beautiful a woman, and she marvelled that one who must have felt so
utterly out of place in her surroundings should still retain a poise
that suggested the majestic bearing of a queen rather than of a
stranger ill at ease.
By signs and gestures, Zora sought to converse with her guest until
even the regal La found herself laughing; and then La tried it too
until Zora knew that her guest had been threatened with clubs and
knives and driven from her home, that she had walked a long way, that
either a lion or a leopard had attacked her and that she was very tired.
When supper was over, Wamala prepared another cot for La in the tent
with Zora, for something in the faces of the Aarabs had made the
European girl fear for the safety of her beautiful guest.
"You must sleep outside the tent door tonight, Wamala," she said. "Here
is an extra pistol."
In his goat hair beyt Abu Batn, the sheykh, talked long into the night
with the principal men of his tribe. "The new one," he said, "will
bring a price such as has never been paid before."
* * * * *
Tarzan awoke and glanced upward through the foliage at the stars. He
saw that the night was half gone, and he arose and stretched himself.
He ate again sparingly of the flesh of Bara and slipped silently into
the shadows of the night.
The camp at the foot of the barrier cliff slept. A single askari kept
guard and tended the beast fire. From a tree at the edge of the camp
two eyes watched him, and when he was looking away a figure dropped
silently into the shadows. Behind the huts of the porters it crept,
pausing occasionally to test the air with dilated nostrils. It came at
last, among the shadows, to the tents of the Europeans, and one by one
it ripped a hole in each rear wall and entered. It was Tarzan searching
for La, but he did not find her and, disappointed, he turned to another
matter.
Making a half circuit of the camp, moving sometimes only inch by inch
as he wormed himself along on his belly, lest the askari upon guard
might see him, he made his way to the shelters of the other askaris,
and there he selected a bow and arrows, and a stout spear, but even yet
he was not done.
For a long time he crouched waiting--waiting until the askari by the
fire should turn in a certain direction.
Presently the sentry arose and threw some dry wood upon the fire,
after which he walked toward the shelter of his fellows to awaken the
man who was to relieve him. It was this moment for which Tarzan had
been waiting. The path of the askari brought him close to where Tarzan
lay in hiding. The man approached and passed, and in the same instant
Tarzan leaped to his feet and sprang upon the unsuspecting black. A
strong arm encircled the fellow from behind and swung him to a broad,
bronzed shoulder. As Tarzan had anticipated, a scream of terror burst
from the man's lips, awakening his fellows; and then he was borne
swiftly through the shadows of the camp away from the beast fire as,
with his prey struggling futilely in his grasp, the ape-man leaped the
thorn boma and disappeared into the black jungle beyond.
So sudden and violent was the attack, so complete the man's surprise,
that he had loosened his grasp upon his rifle in an effort to clutch
his antagonist as he was thrown lightly to the shoulder of his captor.
His screams, echoing through the forest, brought his terrified
companions from their shelters in time to see an indistinct form leap
the boma and vanish into the darkness. They stood temporarily paralyzed
by fright, listening to the diminishing cries of their comrade.
Presently these ceased as suddenly as they had commenced. Then the
headman found his voice.
"Simba!" he said.
"It was not Simba," declared another. "It ran high upon two legs, like
a man. I saw it."
Presently from the dark jungle came a hideous, long-drawn cry. "That is
the voice of neither man nor lion," said the headman.
"It is a demon," whispered another, and then they huddled about the
fire, throwing dry wood upon it until its blaze had crackled high into
the air.
In the darkness of the jungle Tarzan paused and laid aside his spear
and bow, possession of which had permitted him to use but one hand in
his abduction of the sentry. Now the fingers of his free hand closed
upon the throat of his victim, putting a sudden period to his screams.
Only for an instant did Tarzan choke the man; and when he relaxed his
grasp upon the fellow's throat, the black made no further outcry,
fearing to invite again the ungentle grip of those steel fingers.
Quickly Tarzan jerked the fellow to his feet, relieved him of his knife
and, grasping him by his thick wool, pushed him ahead of him into the
jungle, after stooping to retrieve his spear and bow. It was then that
he voiced the victory cry of the bull-ape, for the value of the effect
that it would have not only upon his victim, but upon his fellows in
the camp behind them.
Tarzan had no intention of harming the fellow. His quarrel was not with
the innocent black tools of the white men; and, while he would not have
hesitated to take the life of the black had it been necessary, he knew
them well enough to know that he might effect his purpose with them as
well without bloodshed as with it.
The whites could not accomplish anything without their black allies,
and if Tarzan could successfully undermine the morale of the latter,
the schemes of their masters would be as effectually thwarted as
though he had destroyed them, since he was confident that they would
not remain in a district where they were constantly reminded of the
presence of a malign, supernatural enemy. Furthermore, this policy
accorded better with Tarzan's grim sense of humor and, therefore,
amused him, which the taking of life never did.
For an hour he marched his victim ahead of him in an utter silence,
which he knew would have its effect upon the nerves of the black man.
Finally he halted him, stripped his remaining clothing from him, and
taking the fellow's loin cloth bound his wrists and ankles together
loosely. Then, appropriating his cartridge belt and other belongings,
Tarzan left him, knowing that the black would soon free himself from
his bonds; yet, believing that he had made his escape, would remain for
life convinced that he had narrowly eluded a terrible fate.
Satisfied with his night's work, Tarzan returned to the tree in which
he had cached the carcass of Bara, ate once more and lay up in sleep
until morning, when he again took up his search for La, seeking trace
of her up the valley beyond the barrier cliff of Opar, in the general
direction that her spoor had indicated she had gone, though, as a
matter of fact, she had gone in precisely the opposite direction, down
the valley.
VIII
THE TREACHERY OF ABU BATN
Night was falling when a frightened little monkey took refuge in a
tree top. For days he had been wandering through the jungle, seeking
in his little mind a solution for his problem during those occasional
intervals that he could concentrate his mental forces upon it. But in
an instant he might forget it to go swinging and scampering through the
trees, or again a sudden terror would drive it from his consciousness,
as one or another of the hereditary menaces to his existence appeared
within the range of his perceptive faculties.
While his grief lasted, it was real and poignant, and tears welled in
the eyes of little Nkima as he thought of his absent master. Lurking
always within him upon the borderland of conviction was the thought
that he must obtain succor for Tarzan. In some way he must fetch aid
to his master. The great black Gomangani warriors, who were also the
servants of Tarzan, were many darknesses away, but yet it was in the
general direction of the country of the Waziri that he drifted. Time
was in no sense the essence of the solution of this or any other
problem in the mind of Nkima. He had seen Tarzan enter Opar alive. He
had not seen him destroyed, nor had he seen him come out of the city;
and, therefore, by the standards of his logic Tarzan must still be
alive and in the city, but because the city was filled with enemies
Tarzan must be in danger. As conditions were they would remain. He
could not readily visualize any change that he did not actually
witness, and so, whether he found and fetched the Waziri today or
tomorrow would have little effect upon the result. They would go to
Opar and kill Tarzan's enemies, and then little Nkima would have his
master once more, and he would not have to be afraid of Sheeta, or
Sabor, or Histah.
Night fell, and in the forest Nkima heard a gentle tapping. He aroused
himself and listened intently. The tapping grew in volume until it
rolled and moved through the jungle. Its source was at no great
distance, and as Nkima became aware of this, his excitement grew.
The moon was well up in the heavens, but the shadows of the jungle were
dense. Nkima was upon the horns of a dilemma, between his desire to
go to the place from which the drumming emanated and his fear of the
dangers that might lie along the way; but at length the urge prevailed
over his terror, and keeping well up in the relatively greater safety
of the tree tops, he swung quickly in the direction from which the
sound was coming to halt at last, above a little natural clearing that
was roughly circular in shape.
Below him, in the moonlight, he witnessed a scene that he had spied
upon before, for here the great apes of To-yat were engaged in the
death dance of the Dum-Dum. In the center of the amphitheater was one
of those remarkable earthen drums, which from time immemorial primitive
man has heard, but which few have seen. Before the drum were seated two
old shes, who beat upon its resounding surface with short sticks. There
was a rough rhythmic cadence to their beating, and to it, in a savage
circle, danced the bulls; while encircling them in a thin outer line,
the females and the young squatted upon their haunches, enthralled
spectators of the savage scene. Close beside the drum lay the dead body
of Sheeta, the leopard, to celebrate whose killing the Dum-Dum had been
organized.
Presently the dancing bulls would rush in upon the body and beat it
with heavy sticks and, leaping out again, resume their dance. When the
hunt, and the attack, and the death had been depicted at length, they
would cast away their bludgeons and with bared fangs leap upon the
carcass, tearing and rending it as they fought among themselves for
large pieces or choice morsels.
Now Nkima and his kind are noted neither for their tact nor judgment.
One wiser than little Nkima would have remained silent until the dance
and the feast were over and until a new day had come and the great
bulls of the tribe of To-yat had recovered from the hysterical frenzy
that the drum and the dancing always induced within them. But little
Nkima was only a monkey. What he wanted, he wanted immediately, not
being endowed with that mental poise which results in patience, and so
he swung by his tail from an overhanging branch and scolded at the top
of his voice in an effort to attract the attention of the great apes
below.
"To-yat! Ga-yat! Zu-tho!" he cried. "Tarzan is in danger! Come with
Nkima and save Tarzan!"
A great bull stopped in the midst of the dancing and looked up. "Go
away, Manu," he growled. "Go away or we kill!" But little Nkima thought
that they could not catch him, and so he continued to swing from the
branch and yell and scream at them until finally To-yat sent a young
ape, who was not too heavy to clamber into the upper branches of the
tree, to catch little Nkima and kill him.
Here was an emergency which Nkima had not foreseen. Like many people,
he had believed that every one would be as interested in what
interested him as he; and when he had first heard the booming of the
drums of the Dum-Dum, he thought that the moment the apes learned of
Tarzan's peril they would set out upon the trail of Opar.
Now, however, he knew differently, and as the real menace of his
mistake became painfully apparent with the leaping of a young ape into
the tree below him, little Nkima emitted a loud shriek of terror and
fled through the night; nor did he pause until, panting and exhausted,
he had put a good mile between himself and the tribe of To-yat.
When La of Opar awoke in the tent of Zora Drinov she looked about her,
taking in the unfamiliar objects that surrounded her, and presently her
gaze rested upon the face of her sleeping hostess. These, indeed, she
thought, must be the people of Tarzan, for had they not treated her
with kindness and courtesy? They had offered her no harm and had fed
her and given her shelter. A new thought crossed her mind now and her
brows contracted, as did the pupils of her eyes into which there came a
sudden, savage light. Perhaps this woman was Tarzan's mate. La of Opar
grasped the hilt of Darus' knife where it lay ready beside her. But
then, as suddenly as it had come, the mood passed, for in her heart she
knew that she could not return evil for good, nor could she harm whom
Tarzan loved, and when Zora opened her eyes La greeted her with a smile.
If the European girl was a cause for astonishment to La, she herself
filled the other with profoundest wonder and mystification. Her scant,
yet rich and gorgeous apparel harked back to an ancient age, and the
gleaming whiteness of her skin seemed as much out of place in the heart
of an African jungle as did her trappings in the twentieth century.
Here was a mystery that nothing in the past experience of Zora Drinov
could assist in solving. How she wished that she could converse with
her, but all that she could do was to smile back at the beautiful
creature regarding her so intently.
La, accustomed as she had been to being waited upon all her life by the
lesser priestesses of Opar, was surprised by the facility with which
Zora Drinov attended to her own needs as she rose to bathe and dress,
the only service she received being in the form of a pail of hot water
that Wamala fetched and poured into her folding tub; yet though La had
never before been expected to lift a hand in the making of her toilet,
she was far from helpless, and perhaps she found pleasure in the new
experience of doing for herself.
Unlike the customs of the men of Opar, those of its women required
scrupulous bodily cleanliness, so that in the past much of La's time
had been devoted to her toilet, to the care of her nails, and her
teeth, and her hair, and to the massaging of her body with aromatic
unguents--customs, handed down from a cultured civilization of
antiquity, to take on in ruined Opar the significance of religious
rites.
By the time the two girls were ready for breakfast, Wamala was prepared
to serve it; and as they sat outside the tent beneath the shade of a
tree, eating the coarse fare of the camp, Zora noted unwonted activity
about the byût of the Aarabs, but she gave the matter little thought,
as they had upon other occasions moved their tents from one part of the
camp to another.
Breakfast over, Zora took down her rifle, wiped out the bore and oiled
the breech mechanism, for today she was going out after fresh meat, the
Aarabs having refused to hunt. La watched her with evident interest and
later saw her depart with Wamala and two of the black porters; but she
did not attempt to accompany her since, although she had looked for it,
she had received no sign to do so.
Ibn Dammuk was the son of a sheykh of the same tribe as Abu Batn, and
upon this expedition he was the latter's right-hand man. With the fold
of his thôb drawn across the lower part of his face, leaving only his
eyes exposed, he had been watching the two girls from a distance. He
saw Zora Drinov quit the camp with a gun-bearer and two porters and
knew that she had gone to hunt.
For some time after she had departed he sat in silence with two
companions. Then he arose and sauntered across the camp toward La of
Opar, where she sat buried in reverie in a camp chair before Zora's
tent. As the three men approached, La eyed them with level gaze, her
natural suspicion of strangers aroused in her breast. As they came
closer and their features became distinct, she felt a sudden distrust
of them. They were crafty, malign looking men, not at all like Tarzan,
and instinctively she distrusted them.
They halted before her and Ibn Dammuk, the son of a sheykh, addressed
her. His voice was soft and oily, but it did not deceive her.
La eyed him haughtily. She did not understand him and she did not wish
to, for the message that she read in his eyes disgusted her. She shook
her head to signify that she did not understand and turned away to
indicate that the interview was terminated, but Ibn Dammuk stepped
closer and laid a hand familiarly upon her naked shoulder.
Her eyes flaming with anger, La leaped to her feet, one hand moving
swiftly to the hilt of her dagger. Ibn Dammuk stepped back, but one of
his men leaped forward to seize her.
Misguided fool! Like a tigress she was upon him; and before his friends
could intervene, the sharp blade of the knife of Darus, the priest of
the Flaming God, had sunk thrice into his breast, and with a gasping
scream he had slumped to the ground dead.
With flaming eyes and bloody knife, the high priestess of Opar stood
above her kill, while Abu Batn and the other Aarabs, attracted by the
death cry of the stricken man, ran hurriedly toward the little group.
"Stand back!" cried La. "Lay no profaning hand upon the person of the
high priestess of the Flaming God."
They did not understand her words, but they understood her flashing
eyes and her dripping blade. Jabbering volubly, they gathered around
her, but at a safe distance. "What means this, Ibn Dammuk?" demanded
Abu Batn.
"Dogman did but touch her, and she flew at him like el adrea, lord of
the broad head."
"A lioness she may be," said Abu Batn, "but she must not be harmed."
"Wullah!" exclaimed Ibn Dammuk, "but she must be tamed."
"Her taming we may leave to him who will pay many pieces of gold for
her," replied the sheykh. "It is necessary only for us to cage her.
Surround her, my children, and take the knife from her. Make her wrists
secure behind her back, and by the time the other returns we shall have
struck camp and be ready to depart."
A dozen brawny men leaped upon La simultaneously. "Do not harm her! Do
not harm her!" screamed Abu Batn, as, fighting like a lioness indeed,
La sought to defend herself. Slashing right and left with her dagger,
she drew blood more than once before they overpowered her; nor did
they accomplish it before another Aarab fell with a pierced heart, but
at length they succeeded in wrenching the blade from her and securing
her wrists.
Leaving two warriors to guard her, Abu Batn turned his attention to
gathering up the few black servants that remained in camp. These he
forced to prepare loads of such of the camp equipment and provisions
as he required. While this work was going on under Ibn Dammuk's
supervision, the sheykh ransacked the tents of the Europeans, giving
special attention to those of Zora Drinov and Zveri, where he expected
to find the gold that the leader of the expedition was reputed to have
in large quantities; nor was he entirely disappointed since he found in
Zora's tent a box containing a considerable amount of money, though by
no means the great quantity that he had expected, a fact which was due
to the foresight of Zveri, who had personally buried the bulk of his
funds beneath the floor of his tent.
Zora met with unexpected success in her hunting, for within a little
more than an hour of her departure from camp she had come upon
antelope, and two quick shots had dropped as many members of the herd.
She waited while the porters skinned and dressed them and then returned
leisurely toward camp. Her mind was occupied to some extent with the
disquieting attitude of the Aarabs, but she was not at all prepared for
the reception that she met when she approached camp about noon.
She was walking in advance, immediately followed by Wamala, who was
carrying both of her rifles, while behind them were the porters,
staggering under their heavy loads. Just as she was about to enter
the clearing, Aarabs leaped from the underbrush on either side of the
trail. Two of them seized Wamala and wrenched the rifles from his
grasp, while others laid heavy hands upon Zora. She tried to free
herself from them and draw her revolver, but the attack had taken her
so by surprise that before she could accomplish anything in defense,
she was overpowered and her hands bound at her back.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Where is Abu Batn, the
sheykh?"
The men laughed at her. "You shall see him presently," said one. "He
has another guest whom he is entertaining, so he could not come to meet
you," at which they all laughed again.
As she stepped into the clearing where she could obtain an unobstructed
view of the camp, she was astounded by what she saw. Every tent had
been struck. The Arabs were leaning on their rifles ready to march,
each of them burdened with a small pack, while the few black men, who
had been left in camp, were lined up before heavy loads. All the rest
of the paraphernalia of the camp, which Abu Batn had not men enough to
transport, was heaped in a pile in the center of the clearing, and even
as she looked she saw men setting torches to it.
As she was led across the clearing toward the waiting Aarabs, she saw
her erstwhile guest between two warriors, her wrists confined by thongs
even as her own. Near her, scowling malevolently, was Abu Batn.
"Why have you done this thing, Abu Batn?" demanded Zora.
"Allah was wroth that we should betray our land to the Nasrâny," said
the sheykh. "We have seen the light, and we are going back to our own
people."
"What do you intend to do with this woman and with me?" asked Zora.
"We shall take you with us for a little way," replied Abu Batn. "I know
a kind man who is very rich, who will give you both a good home."
"You mean that you are going to sell us to some black sultan?" demanded
the girl.
The sheykh shrugged. "I would not put it that way," he said. "Rather
let us say that I am making a present to a great and good friend and
saving you and this other woman from certain death in the jungle should
we depart without you."
"Abu Batn, you are a hypocrite and a traitor," cried Zora, her voice
vibrant with contempt.
"The Nasrâny like to call names," said the sheykh with a sneer.
"Perhaps if the pig, Zveri, had not called us names, this would not
have happened."
"So this is your revenge," asked Zora, "because he reproached you for
your cowardice at Opar?"
"Enough!" snapped Abu Batn. "Come, my children, let us be gone."
As the flames licked at the edges of the great pile of provisions and
equipment that the Aarabs were forced to leave behind, the deserters
started upon their march toward the West.
The girls marched near the head of the column, the feet of the Aarabs
and the carriers behind them totally obliterating their spoor from the
motley record of the trail. They might have found some comfort in their
straits had they been able to converse with one another; but La could
understand no one and Zora found no pleasure in speaking to the Aarabs,
while Wamala and the other blacks were so far toward the rear of the
column that she could not have communicated with them had she cared to.
To pass the time away, Zora conceived the idea of teaching her
companion in misery some European language, and because in the original
party there had been more who were familiar with English than any other
tongue, she selected that language for her experiment.
She began by pointing to herself and saying "woman" and then to La and
repeating the same word, after which she pointed to several of the
Aarabs in succession and said "man" in each instance. It was evident
that La understood her purpose immediately, for she entered into the
spirit of it with eagerness and alacrity, repeating the two words again
and again, each time indicating either a man or a woman.
Next the European girl again pointed to herself and said "Zora." For a
moment La was perplexed, and then she smiled and nodded.
"Zora," she said, pointing to her companion, and then, swiftly, she
touched her own breast with a slender forefinger and said, "La."
And this was the beginning. Each hour La learned new words, all nouns
at first, that described each familiar object that appeared oftenest to
their view. She learned with remarkable celerity, evidencing an alert
and intelligent mind and a retentive memory, for once she learned a
word she never forgot it. Her pronunciation was not always perfect, for
she had a decidedly foreign accent that was like nothing Zora Drinov
ever had heard before, and so altogether captivating that the teacher
never tired of hearing her pupil recite.
As the march progressed, Zora realized that there was little likelihood
that they would be mistreated by their captors, it being evident to
her that the sheykh was impressed with the belief that the better
the condition in which they could be presented to their prospective
purchaser the more handsome the return that Abu Batn might hope to
receive.
Their route lay to the northwest through a section of the Galla country
of Abyssinia, and from scraps of conversation Zora overhead she learned
that Abu Batn and his followers were apprehensive of danger during this
portion of the journey. And well they may have been, since for ages
the Aarabs have conducted raids in Galla territory for the purpose of
capturing slaves, and among the negroes with them was a Galla slave
that Abu Batn had brought with him from his desert home.
After the first day the prisoners had been allowed the freedom of their
hands, but always Aarab guards surrounded them, though there seemed
little likelihood that an unarmed girl would take the risk of escaping
into the jungle, where she would be surrounded by the dangers of wild
beasts or almost certain starvation. However, could Abu Batn have read
their thoughts, he might have been astonished to learn that in the mind
of each was a determination to escape to any fate rather than to march
docilely on to an end that the European girl was fully conscious of and
which La of Opar unquestionably surmised in part.
La's education was progressing nicely by the time the party approached
the border of the Galla country, but in the meantime both girls had
become aware of a new menace threatening La of Opar. Ibn Dammuk marched
often beside her, and in his eyes, when he looked at her, was a message
that needed no words to convey. But when Abu Batn was near, Ibn Dammuk
ignored the fair prisoner, and this caused Zora the most apprehension,
for it convinced her that the wily Ibn was but biding his time until he
might find conditions favorable to the carrying out of some scheme that
he already had decided upon, nor did Zora harbor any doubts as to the
general purpose of his plan.
At the edge of the Galla country they were halted by a river in flood.
They could not go north into Abyssinia proper, and they dared not go
south, where they might naturally have expected pursuit to follow. So
perforce they were compelled to wait where they were.
And while they waited Ibn Dammuk struck.
IX
IN THE DEATH CELL OF OPAR
Once again Peter Zveri stood before the walls of Opar, and once again
the courage of his black soldiers was dissipated by the weird cries
of the inmates of the city of mystery. The ten warriors, who had not
been to Opar before and who had volunteered to enter the city, halted
trembling as the first of the blood-curdling screams rose, shrill and
piercing, from the forbidding ruins.
Miguel Romero once more led the invaders, and directly behind him was
Wayne Colt. According to the plan the blacks were to have followed
closely behind these two, with the rest of the whites bringing up
the rear, where they might rally and encourage the negroes, or if
necessary, force them on at the points of their pistols. But the blacks
would not even enter the opening of the outer wall, so demoralized
were they by the uncanny warning screams which their superstitious
minds attributed to malignant demons, against which there could be no
defense and whose animosity meant almost certain death for those who
disregarded their wishes.
"In with you, you dirty cowards!" cried Zveri, menacing the blacks with
his revolver in an effort to force them into the opening.
One of the warriors raised his rifle threateningly. "Put away your
weapon, white man," he said. "We will fight men, but we will not fight
the spirits of the dead."
"Lay off, Peter," said Dorsky. "You will have the whole bunch on us in
a minute and we shall all be killed. Every nigger in the outfit is in
sympathy with these men."
Zveri lowered his pistol and commenced to plead with the warriors,
promising them rewards that amounted to riches to them if they
would accompany the whites into the city; but the volunteers were
obdurate--nothing could induce them to venture into Opar.
Seeing failure once again imminent and with a mind already obsessed
by the belief that the treasures of Opar would make him fabulously
wealthy and insure the success of his secret scheme of empire, Zveri
determined to follow Romero and Colt with the remainder of his aides,
which consisted only of Dorsky, Ivitch and the Filipino boy. "Come on,"
he said, "we will have to make a try at it alone, if these yellow dogs
won't help us."
By the time the four men had passed through the outer wall, Romero and
Colt were already out of sight beyond the inner wall. Once again the
warning scream broke menacingly upon the brooding silence of the ruined
city.
"God!" ejaculated Ivitch. "What do you suppose it could be?"
"Shut up," exclaimed Zveri irritably. "Stop thinking about it, or
you'll go yellow like those damn niggers."
Slowly they crossed the court toward the inner wall, nor was there much
enthusiasm manifest among them other than for the evident desire in the
breast of each to permit one of the others the glory of leading the
advance. Tony had reached the opening when a bedlam of noise from the
opposite side of the wall burst upon their ears--a hideous chorus of
war cries, mingled with the sound of rushing feet. There was a shot,
and then another and another.
Tony turned to see if his companions were following him. They had
halted and were standing with blanched faces, listening.
Then Ivitch turned. "To hell with the gold!" he said, and started back
toward the outer wall at a run.
"Come back, you lousy cur," cried Zveri, and took after him with Dorsky
at his heels. Tony hesitated for a moment and then scurried in pursuit,
nor did any of them halt until they were beyond the outer wall. There
Zveri overtook Ivitch and seized him by the shoulder. "I ought to kill
you," he cried in a trembling voice.
"You were as glad to get out of there as I was," growled Ivitch. "What
was the sense of going in there? We should only have been killed like
Colt and Romero. There were too many of them. Didn't you hear them?"
"I think Ivitch is right," said Dorsky. "It's all right to be brave,
but we have got to remember the cause--if we are killed everything is
lost."
"But the gold!" exclaimed Zveri. "Think of the gold!"
"Gold is no good to dead men," Dorsky reminded him.
"How about our comrades?" asked Tony. "Are we to leave them to be
killed?"
"To hell with the Mexican," said Zveri, "and as for the American I
think his funds will still be available as long as we can keep the news
of his death from getting back to the Coast."
"You are not even going to try to rescue them?" asked Tony.
"I cannot do it alone," said Zveri.
"I will go with you," said Tony.
"Little good two of us can accomplish," mumbled Zveri, and then in one
of his sudden rages, he advanced menacingly upon the Filipino, his
great figure towering above that of the other.
"Who do you think you are anyway?" he demanded. "I am in command here.
When I want your advice I'll ask for it."
When Romero and Colt passed through the inner wall, that part of the
interior of the temple which they could see appeared deserted, and
yet they were conscious of movement in the darker recesses and the
apertures of the ruined galleries that looked down into the courtway.
Colt glanced back. "Shall we wait for the others?" he asked.
Romero shrugged. "I think we are going to have this glory all to
ourselves, comrade," he said with a grin.
Colt smiled back at him. "Then let's get on with the business," he
said. "I don't see anything very terrifying yet."
"There is something in there though," said Romero. "I've seen things
moving."
"So have I," said Colt.
With their rifles ready, they advanced boldly into the temple; but they
had not gone far when, from shadowy archways and from numerous gloomy
doorways there rushed a horde of horrid men, and the silence of the
ancient city was shattered by hideous war cries.
Colt was in advance and now he kept on moving forward, firing a shot
above the heads of the grotesque warrior priests of Opar. Romero saw a
number of the enemy running along the side of the great room which they
had entered, with the evident intention of cutting off their retreat.
He swung about and fired, but not over their heads. Realizing the
gravity of their position, he shot to kill, and now Colt did the same,
with the result that the screams of a couple of wounded men mingled now
with the war cries of their fellows.
Romero was forced to drop back a few steps to prevent the Oparians from
surrounding him. He shot rapidly now and succeeded in checking the
advance around their flank. A quick glance at Colt showed him standing
his ground, and at the same instant he saw a hurled club strike the
American on the head. The man dropped like a log, and instantly his
body was covered by the terrible little men of Opar.
Miguel Romero realized that his companion was lost, and even if not now
already dead, he, single-handed, could accomplish nothing toward his
rescue. If he escaped with his own life he would be fortunate, and so,
keeping up a steady fire, he fell back toward the aperture in the inner
wall.
Having captured one of the invaders, seeing the other falling back, and
fearing to risk further the devastating fire of the terrifying weapon
in the hand of their single antagonist, the Oparians hesitated.
Romero passed through the inner wall, turned and ran swiftly to the
outer and a moment later had joined his companions upon the plain.
"Where is Colt?" demanded Zveri.
"They knocked him out with a club and captured him," said Romero. "He
is probably dead by this time."
"And you deserted him?" asked Zveri.
The Mexican turned upon his chief in fury. "You ask me that?" he
demanded. "You turned pale and ran even before you saw the enemy. If
you fellows had backed us up Colt might not have been lost, but to let
us go in there alone the two of us didn't have a Chinaman's chance with
that bunch of wild men. And you accuse me of cowardice?"
"I didn't do anything of the kind," said Zveri sullenly. "I never said
you were a coward."
"You meant to imply it though," snapped Romero, "but let me tell you,
Zveri, that you can't get away with that with me or anyone else who has
been to Opar with you."
From behind the walls rose a savage cry of victory; and while it still
rumbled through the tarnished halls of Opar, Zveri turned dejectedly
away from the city. "It's no use," he said. "I can't capture Opar
alone. We are returning to camp."
The little priests, swarming over Colt, stripped him of his weapons and
secured his hands behind his back. He was still unconscious, and so
they lifted him to the shoulder of one of their fellows and bore him
away into the interior of the temple.
When Colt regained consciousness he found himself lying on the floor of
a large chamber. It was the throne room of the temple of Opar, where he
had been fetched that Oah, the high priestess, might see the prisoner.
Perceiving that their captive had regained consciousness, his guards
jerked him roughly to his feet and pushed him forward toward the foot
of the dais upon which stood Oah's throne.
The effect of the picture bursting suddenly upon him imparted to Colt
the definite impression that he was the victim of an hallucination or a
dream. The outer chamber of the ruin, in which he had fallen, had given
no suggestion of the size and semi-barbaric magnificence of this great
chamber, the grandeur of which was scarcely dimmed by the ruin of ages.
He saw before him, upon an ornate throne, a young woman of exceptional
physical beauty, surrounded by the semi-barbaric grandeur of an ancient
civilization. Grotesque and hairy men and beautiful maidens formed
her entourage. Her eyes, resting upon him, were cold and cruel; her
mien haughty and contemptuous. A squat warrior, more ape-like in his
conformation than human, was addressing her in a language unfamiliar to
the American.
When he had finished, the girl rose from the throne and, drawing a
long knife from her girdle, raised it high above her head as she spoke
rapidly and almost fiercely, her eyes fixed upon the prisoner.
From among a group of priestesses at the right of Oah's throne, a girl,
just come into womanhood, regarded the prisoner through half-closed
eyes, and beneath the golden plates that confined her smooth, white
breasts, the heart of Nao palpitated to the thoughts that contemplation
of this strange warrior engendered within her.
When Oah had finished speaking, Colt was led away, quite ignorant of
the fact that he had been listening to the sentence of death imposed
upon him by the high priestess of the Flaming God. His guards conducted
him to a cell just within the entrance of a tunnel leading from the
sacrificial court to the pits beneath the city, and because it was not
entirely below ground, fresh air and light had access to it through a
window and the grated bars of its doorway. Here the escort left him,
after removing the bonds from his wrists.
Through the small window in his cell Wayne Colt looked out upon the
inner court of the Temple of the Sun at Opar. He saw the surrounding
galleries rising tier upon tier to the summit of a lofty wall. He saw
the stone altar standing in the center of the court, and the brown
stains upon it and upon the pavement at its foot told him what the
unintelligible words of Oah had been unable to convey. For an instant
he felt his heart sink within his breast, and a shudder passed through
his frame as he contemplated his inability to escape the fate which
confronted him. There could be no mistaking the purpose of that altar
when viewed in connection with the grinning skulls of former human
sacrifices which stared through eyeless sockets upon him from their
niches in the surrounding walls.
Fascinated by the horror of his situation, he stood staring at the
altar and skulls, but presently he gained control of himself and shook
the terror from him, yet the hopelessness of his situation continued
to depress him. His thoughts turned to his companion. He wondered what
Romero's fate had been. There, indeed, had been a brave and gallant
comrade, in fact, the only member of the party who had impressed Colt
favorably, or in whose society he had found pleasure. The others had
seemed either ignorant fanatics or avaricious opportunists, while the
manner and speech of the Mexican had stamped him as a light-hearted
soldier of fortune, who might gayly offer his life in any cause which
momentarily seized his fancy with an eye more singly for excitement and
adventure than for any serious purpose. He did not know, of course,
that Zveri and the others had deserted him; but he was confident that
Romero had not before his cause had become utterly hopeless, or until
the Mexican himself had been killed or captured.
In lonely contemplation of his predicament, Colt spent the rest of the
long afternoon. Darkness fell, and still there came no sign from his
captors. He wondered if they intended leaving him there without food or
water, or if, perchance, the ceremony that was to see him offered in
sacrifice upon that grim, brown-stained altar was scheduled to commence
so soon that they felt it unnecessary to minister to his physical needs.
He had lain down upon the hard cement-like surface of the cell floor
and was trying to find momentary relief in sleep, when his attention
was attracted by the shadow of a sound coming from the courtyard where
the altar stood. As he listened he was positive that someone was
approaching, and rising quietly he went to the window and looked out.
In the shadowy darkness of the night, relieved only by the faint light
of distant stars, he saw something moving across the courtyard toward
his cell, but whether man or beast he could not distinguish; and then,
from somewhere high up among the lofty ruins, there pealed out upon the
silent night the long-drawn scream, which seemed now to the American
as much a part of the mysterious city of Opar as the crumbling ruins
themselves.
* * * * *
It was a sullen and discouraged party that made its way back to the
camp at the edge of the forest below the barrier cliffs of Opar, and
when they arrived it was to find only further disorganization and
discouragement.
No time was lost in narrating to the members of the returning
expedition the story of the sentry who had been carried off into the
jungle at night by a demon, from whom the man had managed to escape
before being devoured. Still fresh in their minds was the uncanny
affair of the death of Raghunath Jafar, nor were the nerves of those
who had been before the walls of Opar inclined to be at all steadied by
that experience, so that it was a nervous company that bivouacked that
night beneath the dark trees at the edge of the gloomy forest and, with
sighs of relief, witnessed the coming of dawn.
Later, after they had taken up the march toward the base camp, the
spirit of the blacks gradually returned to normal and presently the
tension under which they had been laboring for days was relieved by
song and laughter, but the whites were gloomy and sullen. Zveri and
Romero did not speak to one another, while Ivitch, like all weak
characters, nursed a grievance against every one because of his own
display of cowardice during the fiasco at Opar.
From the interior of a hollow tree in which he had been hiding, little
Nkima saw the column pass; and after it was safely by he emerged from
his retreat and, dancing up and down upon a limb of the tree, shouted
dire threats after them and called them many names.
Tarzan of the Apes lay stretched upon his belly upon the back of
Tantor, the elephant, his elbows upon the broad head, his chin resting
in his cupped hands. Futile had been his search for the spoor of La
of Opar. Had the Earth opened and swallowed her she could not more
effectually have disappeared.
Today Tarzan had come upon Tantor and, as had been his custom from
childhood, he had tarried for that silent communion with the sagacious
old patriarch of the forest, which seemed always to impart to the
man something of the beast's great strength of character and poise.
There was an atmosphere of restful stability about Tantor that filled
the ape-man with a peace and tranquillity that he found restful; and
Tantor, upon his part, welcomed the companionship of the Lord of the
Jungle, whom, alone, of all two legged creatures, he viewed with
friendship and affection.
The beasts of the jungle acknowledge no master, least of all the cruel
tyrant that drives civilized man throughout his headlong race from the
cradle to the grave--Time, the master of countless millions of slaves.
Time, the measurable aspect of duration, was measureless to Tarzan
and Tantor. Of all the vast resources that Nature had placed at their
disposal, she had been most profligate with Time, since she had awarded
to each all that he could use during his life-time, no matter how
extravagant of it he might be. So great was the supply of it that it
could not be wasted, since there was always more, even up to the moment
of death, after which it ceased, with all things, to be essential to
the individual. Tantor and Tarzan, therefore, were wasting no time as
they communed together in silent meditation; but though Time and space
go on forever, whether in curves or straight lines, all other things
must end; and so the quiet and the peace that the two friends were
enjoying were suddenly shattered by the excited screams of a diminutive
monkey in the foliage of a great tree above them.
It was Nkima. He had found his Tarzan, and his relief and joy aroused
the jungle to the limit of his small, shrill voice. Lazily Tarzan
rolled over and looked up at the jabbering simian above him; and
then Nkima, satisfied now beyond peradventure of a doubt that this
was, indeed, his master, launched himself downward to alight upon the
bronzed body of the ape-man. Slender, hairy little arms went around
Tarzan's neck as Nkima hugged close to this haven of refuge which
imparted to him those brief moments in his life when he might enjoy the
raptures of a temporary superiority complex. Upon Tarzan's shoulder he
felt almost fearless and could, with impunity, insult the entire world.
"Where have you been, Nkima?" asked Tarzan.
"Looking for Tarzan," replied the monkey.
"What have you seen since I left you at the walls of Opar?" demanded
the ape-man.
"I have seen many things. I have seen the great Mangani dancing in the
moonlight around the dead body of Sheeta. I have seen the enemies of
Tarzan marching through the forest. I have seen Histah, gorging himself
on the carcass of Bara."
"Have you seen a Tarmangani she?" demanded Tarzan.
"No," replied Nkima. "There were no shes among the Gomangani and
Tarmangani enemies of Tarzan. Only bulls, and they marched back toward
the place where Nkima first saw them."
"When was this?" asked Tarzan.
"Kudu had climbed into the heavens but a short distance out of the
darkness when Nkima saw the enemies of Tarzan marching back to the
place where he first saw them."
"Perhaps we had better see what they are up to," said the ape-man. He
slapped Tantor affectionately with his open palm in farewell, leaped
to his feet and swung nimbly into the overhanging branches of a tree;
while far away Zveri and his party plodded through the jungle toward
their base camp.
Tarzan of the Apes follows no earth-bound trails where the density of
the forest offers him the freedom of leafy highways, and thus he moves
from point to point with a speed that has often been disconcerting to
his enemies.
Now he moved in an almost direct line so that he overtook the
expedition as it made camp for the night. As he watched them from
behind a leafy screen of high-flung foliage, he noticed, though with no
surprise, that they were not burdened with any treasure from Opar.
As the success and happiness of jungle dwellers, nay, even life itself,
is largely dependent upon their powers of observation, Tarzan had
developed his to a high degree of perfection. At his first encounter
with this party he had made himself familiar with the faces, physiques
and carriages of all of its principals and of many of its humble
warriors and porters, with the result that he was immediately aware
that Colt was no longer with the expedition. Experience permitted
Tarzan to draw a rather accurate picture of what had happened at Opar
and of the probable fate of the missing man.
Years ago he had seen his own courageous Waziri turn and flee upon the
occasion of their first experience of the weird warning screams from
the ruined city, and he could easily guess that Colt, attempting to
lead the invaders into the city, had been deserted and found either
death or capture within the gloomy interior. This, however, did not
greatly concern Tarzan. While he had been rather drawn toward Colt
by that tenuous and invisible power known as personality, he still
considered him as one of his enemies, and if he were either dead or
captured Tarzan's cause was advanced by that much.
From Tarzan's shoulder Nkima looked down upon the camp, but he kept
silent as Tarzan had instructed him to do. Nkima saw many things that
he would have liked to have possessed, and particularly he coveted a
red calico shirt worn by one of the askaris. This, he thought, was very
grand, indeed, being set off as it was by the unrelieved nakedness of
the majority of the blacks. Nkima wished that his master would descend
and slay them all, but particularly the man with the red shirt; for, at
heart, Nkima was bloodthirsty, which made it fortunate for the peace of
the jungle that he had not been born a gorilla. But Tarzan's mind was
not set upon carnage. He had other means for thwarting the activities
of these strangers. During the day he had made a kill, and now he
withdrew to a safe distance from the camp and satisfied his hunger,
while Nkima searched for birds' eggs, fruit, and insects.
And so night fell and when it had enveloped the jungle in impenetrable
darkness, relieved only by the beast fires of the camp, Tarzan returned
to a tree where he could overlook the activities of the bivouacked
expedition. He watched them in silence for a long time, and then
suddenly he raised his voice in a long scream that perfectly mimicked
the hideous warning cry of Opar's defenders.
The effect upon the camp was instantaneous. Conversation, singing, and
laughter ceased. For a moment the men sat as in a paralysis of terror.
Then, seizing their weapons, they came closer to the fire.
With the shadow of a smile upon his lips, Tarzan melted away into the
jungle.
X
THE LOVE OF A PRIESTESS
Ibn Dammuk had bided his time and now, in the camp by the swollen river
at the edge of the Galla country, he at last found the opportunity
he had so long awaited. The surveillance over the two prisoners had
somewhat relaxed, due largely to the belief entertained by Abu Batn
that the women would not dare to invite the perils of the jungle by
attempting to escape from captors who were, at the same time, their
protectors from even greater dangers. He had, however, reckoned without
a just estimation of the courage and resourcefulness of his two
captives, who, had he but known it, were constantly awaiting the first
opportunity for escape. It was this fact, as well, that played into the
hands of Ibn Dammuk.
With great cunning he enlisted the services of one of the blacks who
had been forced to accompany them from the base camp and who was
virtually a prisoner. By promising him his liberty Ibn Dammuk had
easily gained the man's acquiescence in the plan that he had evolved.
A separate tent had been pitched for the two women, and before it sat a
single sentry, whose presence Abu Batn considered more than sufficient
for this purpose, which was, perhaps, even more to protect the women
from his own followers than to prevent a very remotely possible attempt
at escape.
This night, which Ibn Dammuk had chosen for his villainy, was one for
which he had been waiting, since it found upon duty before the tent of
the captives one of his own men, a member of his own tribe, who was
bound by laws of hereditary loyalty to serve and obey him. In the
forest, just beyond the camp, waited Ibn Dammuk, with two more of his
own tribesmen, four slaves that they had brought from the desert and
the black porter who was to win his liberty by this night's work.
The interior of the tent that had been pitched for Zora and La was
illuminated by a paper lantern, in which a candle burned dimly; and in
this subdued light the two sat talking in La's newly acquired English,
which was at best most fragmentary and broken. However, it was far
better than no means of communication and gave the two girls the only
pleasure that they enjoyed. Perhaps it was not a remarkable coincidence
that this night they were speaking of escape and planning to cut a hole
in the back of their tent through which they might sneak away into the
jungle after the camp had settled down for the night and their sentry
should be dozing at his post. And while they conversed, the sentry
before their tent rose and strolled away, and a moment later they heard
a scratching upon the back of the tent. Their conversation ceased, and
they sat with eyes riveted upon the point where the fabric of the tent
moved to the pressure of the scratching without.
Presently a voice spoke in a low whisper. "Memsahib Drinov!"
"Who is it? What do you want?" asked Zora in a low voice.
"I have found a way to escape. I can help you if you wish."
"Who are you?" demanded Zora.
"I am Bukula," and Zora at once recognized the name as that of one of
the blacks that Abu Batn had forced to accompany him from the base camp.
"Put out your lantern," whispered Bukula. "The sentry has gone away. I
will come in and tell you my plans."
Zora arose and blew out the candle, and a moment later the two captives
saw Bukula crawling into the interior of the tent. "Listen, Memsahib,"
he said, "the boys that Abu Batn stole from Bwana Zveri are running
away tonight. We are going back to the safari. We will take you two
with us, if you want to come."
"Yes," said Zora, "we will come."
"Good!" said Bukula. "Now listen well to what I tell you. The sentry
will not come back, but we cannot all go out at once. First I will take
this other Memsahib with me out into the jungle where the boys are
waiting; then I will return for you. You can make talk to her. Tell her
to follow me and to make no noise."
Zora turned to La. "Follow Bukula," she said. "We are going tonight. I
will come after you."
"I understand," replied La.
"It is all right, Bukula," said Zora. "She understands."
Bukula stepped to the entrance to the tent and looked quickly about the
camp. "Come!" he said, and, followed by La, disappeared quickly from
Zora's view.
The European girl fully realized the risk that they ran in going into
the jungle alone with these half-savage blacks, yet she trusted them
far more implicitly than she did the Aarabs and, too, she felt that she
and La together might circumvent any treachery upon the part of any of
the negroes, the majority of whom she knew would be loyal and faithful.
Waiting in the silence and loneliness of the darkened tent, it seemed
to Zora that it took Bukula an unnecessarily long time to return for
her; but when minute after minute dragged slowly past until she felt
that she had waited for hours and there was no sign either of the
black or the sentry, her fears were aroused in earnest. Presently she
determined not to wait any longer for Bukula, but to go out into the
jungle in search of the escaping party. She thought that perhaps Bukula
had been unable to return without risking detection and that they
were all waiting just beyond the camp for a favorable opportunity to
return to her. As she arose to put her decision into action, she heard
footsteps approaching the tent, and thinking that they were Bukula's,
she waited; but instead she saw the flapping robe and the long-barreled
musket of an Aarab silhouetted against the lesser darkness of the
exterior as the man stuck his head inside the tent. "Where is
Hajellan?" he demanded, giving the name of the departed sentry.
"How should we know?" retorted Zora in a sleepy voice. "Why do you
awaken us thus in the middle of the night? Are we the keepers of your
fellows?"
The fellow grumbled something in reply and then, turning, called aloud
across the camp, announcing to all who might hear that Hajellan was
missing and inquiring if any had seen him. Other warriors strolled over
then, and there was a great deal of speculation as to what had become
of Hajellan. The name of the missing man was called aloud many times,
but there was no response, and finally the sheykh came and questioned
every one. "The women are in the tent yet?" he demanded of the new
sentry.
"Yes," replied the man. "I have talked with them."
"It is strange," said Abu Batn, and then, "Ibn Dammuk!" he cried.
"Where art thou, Ibn? Hajellan was one of thy men." There was no
answer. "Where is Ibn Dammuk?"
"He is not here," said a man standing near the sheykh.
"Nor are Fodil and Dareyem," said another.
"Search the camp and see who is missing," commanded Abu Batn; and when
the search had been made they found that Ibn Dammuk, Hajellan, Fodil,
and Dareyem were missing with five of the blacks.
"Ibn Dammuk has deserted us," said Abu Batn. "Well, let it go. There
will be fewer with whom to share the reward we shall reap when we are
paid for the two women," and thus reconciling himself to the loss of
four good fighting men, Abu Batn repaired to his tent and resumed his
interrupted slumber.
Weighted down by apprehension as to the fate of La and disappointment
occasioned by her own failure to escape, Zora spent an almost sleepless
night, yet fortunate for her peace of mind was it that she did not know
the truth.
Bukula moved silently into the jungle, followed by La; and when they
had gone a short distance from the camp, the girl saw the dark forms
of men standing in a little group ahead of them. The Aarabs, in their
tell-tale thôbs, were hidden in the underbrush, but their slaves had
removed their own white robes and, with Bukula, were standing naked
but for G strings, thus carrying conviction to the mind of the girl
that only black prisoners of Abu Batn awaited her. When she came among
them, however, she learned her mistake; but too late to save herself,
for she was quickly seized by many hands and effectually gagged before
she could give the alarm. Then Ibn Dammuk and his Aarab companions
appeared, and silently the party moved on down the river through the
dark forest, though not before they had subdued the enraged high
priestess of The Flaming God, secured her wrists behind her back, and
placed a rope about her neck.
All night they fled, for Ibn Dammuk well guessed what the wrath of Abu
Batn would be when, in the morning, he discovered the trick that had
been played upon him; and when morning dawned they were far away from
camp, but still Ibn Dammuk pushed on, after a brief halt for a hurried
breakfast.
Long since had the gag been removed from La's mouth, and now Ibn Dammuk
walked beside her, gloating upon his prize. He spoke to her, but La
could not understand him and only strode on in haughty disdain, biding
her time against the moment when she might be revenged and inwardly
sorrowing over her separation from Zora, for whom a strange affection
had been aroused in her savage breast.
Toward noon the party withdrew from the game trail which they had been
following and made camp near the river. It was here that Ibn Dammuk
made a fatal blunder. Goaded to passion by close proximity to the
beautiful woman for whom he had conceived a mad infatuation, the Aarab
gave way to his desire to be alone with her; and leading her along a
little trail that paralleled the river, he took her away out of sight
of his companions; and when they had gone perhaps a hundred yards from
camp, he seized her in his arms and sought to kiss her lips.
With equal safety might Ibn Dammuk have embraced a lion. In the heat
of his passion he forgot many things, among them the dagger that hung
always at his side. But La of Opar did not forget. With the coming of
daylight she had noticed that dagger, and ever since she had coveted
it; and now as the man pressed her close, her hand sought and found its
hilt. For an instant she seemed to surrender. She let her body go limp
in his arms, while her own, firm and beautifully rounded, crept about
him, one to his right shoulder, the other beneath his left arm. But as
yet she did not give him her lips, and then as he struggled to possess
them the hand upon his shoulder seized him suddenly by the throat. The
long, tapered fingers that seemed so soft and white were suddenly claws
of steel that closed upon his windpipe; and simultaneously the hand
that had crept so softly beneath his left arm drove his own long dagger
into his heart from beneath his shoulder blade.
The single cry that he might have given was choked in his throat. For
an instant the tall form of Ibn Dammuk stood rigidly erect; then it
stumped forward, and the girl let it slip to the earth. She spurned
it once with her foot, then removed from it the girdle and sheath for
the dagger, wiped the bloody blade upon the man's thôb and hurried on
up the little river trail until she found an opening in the underbrush
that led away from the stream. On and on she went until exhaustion
overtook her; and then, with her remaining strength, she climbed into a
tree in search of much needed rest.
* * * * *
Wayne Colt watched the shadowy figure approach the mouth of the
corridor where his cell lay. He wondered if this was a messenger of
death, coming to lead him to sacrifice. Nearer and nearer it came until
presently it stopped before the bars of his cell door; and then a soft
voice spoke to him in a low whisper and in a tongue which he could not
understand, and he knew that his visitor was a woman.
Prompted by curiosity, he came close to the bars. A soft hand reached
in and touched him, almost caressingly. A full moon rising above the
high walls that ring the sacrificial court suddenly flooded the mouth
of the corridor and the entrance to Colt's cell in silvery light, and
in it the American saw the figure of a young girl pressed against the
cold iron of the grating. She handed him food, and when he took it she
caressed his hand and drawing it to the bars pressed her lips against
it.
Wayne Colt was nonplussed. He could not know that Nao, the little
priestess, had been the victim of love at first sight, that to her mind
and eyes, accustomed to the sight of males only in the form of the
hairy, grotesque priests of Opar, this stranger appeared a god indeed.
A slight noise attracted Nao's attention toward the court and, as she
turned, the moonlight flooded her face, and the American saw that she
was very lovely. Then she turned back toward him, her dark eyes wells
of adoration, her full, sensitive lips trembling with emotion as, still
clinging to his hand, she spoke rapidly in low liquid tones.
She was trying to tell Colt that at noon of the second day he was to be
offered in sacrifice to the Flaming God, that she did not wish him to
die and if it were possible she would help him, but that she did not
know how that would be possible.
Colt shook his head. "I cannot understand you, little one," he said,
and Nao, though she could not interpret his words, sensed the futility
of her own. Then, raising one of her hands from his, she made a great
circle in a vertical plane from east to west with a slender index
finger, indicating the path of the sun across the heavens; and then
she started a second circle, which she stopped at zenith, indicating
high noon of the second day. For an instant her raised hand poised
dramatically aloft; and then, the fingers closing as though around the
hilt of an imaginary sacrificial knife, she plunged the invisible point
deep into her bosom.
"Thus will Oah destroy you," she said, reaching through the bars and
touching Colt over the heart.
The American thought that he understood the meaning of her pantomime,
which he then repeated, plunging the imaginary blade into his own
breast and looking questioningly at Nao.
In reply she nodded sadly, and the tears welled to her eyes.
As plainly as though he had understood her words, Colt realized that
here was a friend who would help him if she could, and reaching through
the bars, he drew the girl gently toward him and pressed his lips
against her forehead. With a low sob Nao encircled his neck with her
arms and pressed her face to his. Then, as suddenly, she released him
and, turning, hurried away on silent feet, to disappear in the gloomy
shadows of an archway at one side of the court of sacrifice.
Colt ate the food that she had brought him and for a long time lay
pondering the inexplicable forces which govern the acts of men. What
train of circumstances leading down out of a mysterious past had
produced this single human being in a city of enemies in whom, all
unsuspecting, there must always have existed a germ of potential
friendship for him, an utter stranger and alien, of whose very
existence she could not possibly have dreamed before this day. He tried
to convince himself that the girl had been prompted to her act by pity
for his plight, but he knew in his heart that a more powerful motive
impelled her.
Colt had been attracted to many women, but he had never loved; and he
wondered if that was the way that love came and if some day it would
seize him as it had seized this girl; and he wondered also if, had
conditions been different, he might have been as strongly attracted to
her. If not, then there seemed to be something wrong in the scheme of
things; and still puzzling over this riddle of the age, he fell asleep
upon the hard floor of his cell.
With morning a hairy priest came and gave him food and water, and
during the day others came and watched him, as though he were a wild
beast in a menagerie. And so the long day dragged on, and once again
night came--his last night.
He tried to picture what the final ceremony would be like. It seemed
almost incredible that in the twentieth century he was to be offered
as a human sacrifice to some heathen deity, but yet the pantomime
of the girl and the concrete evidence of the bloody altar and the
grinning skulls assured him that such must be the very fate awaiting
him upon the morrow. He thought of his family and his friends at home;
they would never know what had become of him. He weighed his sacrifice
against the mission that he had undertaken and he had no regret, for he
knew that it had not been in vain. Far away, already near the Coast,
was the message he had dispatched by the runner. That would insure that
he had not failed in his part for the sake of a great principle for
which, if necessary, he was glad to lay down his life. He was glad that
he had acted promptly and sent the message when he had, for now, upon
the morrow, he could go to his death without vain regrets.
He did not want to die, and he made many plans during the day to seize
upon the slightest opportunity that might be presented to him to escape.
He wondered what had become of the girl and if she would come again
now that it was dark. He wished that she would, for he craved the
companionship of a friend during his last hours; but as the night wore
on, he gave up the hope and sought to forget the morrow in sleep.
As Wayne Colt moved restlessly upon his hard couch, Firg, a lesser
priest of Opar, snored upon his pallet of straw in the small, dark
recess that was his bed chamber. Firg was the keeper of the keys, and
so impressed was he with the importance of his duties that he never
would permit anyone even to touch the sacred emblems of his trust,
and probably because it was well known that Firg would die in defense
of them they were entrusted to him. Not with justice could Firg have
laid any claim to intellectuality, if he had known that such a thing
existed. He was only an abysmal brute of a man and, like many men, far
beneath the so-called brutes in many of the activities of mind. When he
slept, all his faculties were asleep, which is not true of wild beasts
when they sleep.
Firg's cell was in one of the upper stories of the ruins that still
remained intact. It was upon a corridor that encircled the main
temple court--a corridor that was now in dense shadow, since the moon,
touching it early in the night, had now passed on; so that the figure
creeping stealthily toward the entrance to Firg's chamber would have
been noticeable only to one who happened to be quite close. It moved
silently, but without hesitation, until it came to the entrance beyond
which Firg lay. There it paused, listening, and when it heard Firg's
noisy snoring, it entered quickly. Straight to the side of the sleeping
man it moved, and there it knelt, searching with one hand lightly over
his body, while the other grasped a long, sharp knife that hovered
constantly above the hairy chest of the priest.
Presently it found what it wanted--a great ring, upon which were strung
several enormous keys. A leather thong fastened the ring to Firg's
girdle, and with the keen blade of the dagger the nocturnal visitor
sought to sever the thong. Firg stirred, and instantly the creature
at his side froze to immobility. Then the priest moved restlessly and
commenced to snore again, and once more the dagger sawed at the leather
thong. It passed through the strand unexpectedly and touched the metal
of the ring lightly, but just enough to make the keys jangle ever so
slightly.
Instantly Firg was awake, but he did not rise. He was never to rise
again.
Silently, swiftly, before the stupid creature could realize his danger,
the keen blade of the dagger had pierced his heart.
Soundlessly, Firg collapsed. His slayer hesitated a moment with poised
dagger as though to make certain that the work had been well done.
Then, wiping the tell-tale stains from the dagger's blade with the
victim's loin cloth, the figure arose and hurried from the chamber, in
one hand the great keys upon their golden ring.
Colt stirred uneasily in his sleep and then awakened with a start. In
the waning moonlight he saw a figure beyond the grating of his cell. He
heard a key turn in the massive lock. Could it be that they were coming
for him? He rose to his feet, the urge of his last conscious thought
strong upon him--escape. And then as the door swung open, a soft voice
spoke, and he knew that the girl had returned.
She entered the cell and threw her arms about Colt's neck, drawing his
lips down to hers. For a moment she clung to him, and then she released
him and, taking one of his hands in hers, urged him to follow her; nor
was the American loath to leave the depressing interior of the death
cell.
On silent feet Nao led the way across the corner of the sacrificial
court, through a dark archway into a gloomy corridor. Winding and
twisting, keeping always in dark shadows, she led him along a
circuitous route through the ruins, until, after what seemed an
eternity to Colt, the girl opened a low, strong, wooden door and led
him into the great entrance hall of the temple, through the mighty
portal of which he could see the inner wall of the city.
Here Nao halted, and coming close to the man looked up into his eyes.
Again her arms stole about his neck, and again she pressed her lips to
his. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her voice broke with little
sobs that she tried to stifle as she poured her love into the ears of
the man who could not understand.
She had brought him here to offer him his freedom, but she could not
let him go yet. She clung to him, caressing him and crooning to him.
For a quarter of an hour she held him there, and Colt had not the heart
to tear himself away, but at last she released him and pointed toward
the opening in the inner wall.
"Go!" she said, "taking the heart of Nao with you. I shall never see
you again, but at least I shall always have the memory of this hour to
carry through life with me."
Wayne stooped and kissed her hand, the slender, savage little hand that
had but just killed that her lover might live. Though of that, Wayne
knew nothing.
A great sadness depressed Colt as he passed through the inner wall and
crossed the court to freedom, for he knew that he had left behind him a
sad and hopeless heart, in the bosom of one who must have risked death,
perhaps, to save him--a perfect friend of whom he could but carry a
vague memory of a half-seen lovely face, a friend whose name he did
not know, the only tokens of whom he had carried away with him were the
memory of hot kisses and a slender dagger.
And thus, as Wayne Colt walked across the moonlit plain of Opar, the
joy of his escape was tempered by sadness as he recalled the figure of
the forlorn little priestess standing in the shadows of the ruins.
XI
LOST IN THE JUNGLE
It was some time after the uncanny scream had disturbed the camp of the
conspirators before the men could settle down to rest again.
Zveri believed that they had been followed by a band of Oparian
warriors, who might be contemplating a night attack, and so he placed
a heavy guard about the camp; but his blacks were confident that that
unearthly cry had broken from no human throat.
Depressed and dispirited, the men resumed their march the following
morning. They made an early start and by dint of much driving arrived
at the base camp just before dark. The sight that met their eyes there
filled them with consternation. The camp had disappeared, and in the
center of the clearing where it had been pitched a pile of ashes
suggested that disaster had overtaken the party that had been left
behind.
This new misfortune threw Zveri into a maniacal rage, but there was no
one present upon whom he might lay the blame, and so he was reduced to
the expedient of tramping back and forth while he cursed his luck in
loud tones and several languages.
From a tree Tarzan watched him. He, too, was at a loss to understand
the nature of the disaster that seemed to have overtaken the camp
during the absence of the main party, but as he saw that it caused the
leader intense anguish, the ape-man was pleased.
The blacks were confident that this was another manifestation of the
anger of the malign spirit that had been haunting them, and they were
all for deserting the ill-starred white man, whose every move ended in
failure or disaster.
Zveri's powers of leadership deserve full credit, since from the verge
of almost certain mutiny he forced his men by means of both cajolery
and threat to remain with him. He set them to building shelters for
the entire party, and immediately he dispatched messengers to his
various agents, urging them to forward necessary supplies at once. He
knew that certain things he needed already were on the way from the
Coast--uniforms, rifles, ammunition. But now he particularly needed
provisions and trade goods. To insure discipline, he kept the men
working constantly, either in adding to the comforts of the camp,
enlarging the clearing, or hunting fresh meats.
And so the days passed and became weeks, and meanwhile Tarzan watched
in waiting. He was in no hurry, for hurry is not a characteristic of
the beasts. He roamed the jungle often at a considerable distance from
Zveri's camp, but occasionally he would return, though not to molest
them, preferring to let them lull themselves into a stupor of tranquil
security, the shattering of which in his own good time would have dire
effect upon their morale. He understood the psychology of terror, and
it was with terror that he would defeat them.
* * * * *
To the camp of Abu Batn, upon the border of the Galla country, word
had come from spies that he had sent out that the Galla warriors
were gathering to prevent his passage through their territory. Being
weakened by the desertion of so many men, the sheykh dared not defy the
bravery and numbers of the Galla warriors, but he knew that he must
make some move, since it seemed inevitable that pursuit must overtake
him from the rear, if he remained where he was much longer.
At last scouts that he had sent far up the river on the opposite side
returned to report that a way to the west seemed clear along a more
northerly route, and so breaking camp, Abu Batn moved north with his
lone prisoner.
Great had been his rage when he discovered that Ibn Dammuk had stolen
La, and now he redoubled his precaution to prevent the escape of Zora
Drinov. So closely was she guarded that any possibility of escape
seemed almost hopeless. She had learned the fate for which Abu Batn was
reserving her, and now, depressed and melancholy, her mind was occupied
with plans for self-destruction. For a time she had harbored the hope
that Zveri would overtake the Aarabs and rescue her, but this she had
long since discarded, as day after day passed without bringing the
hoped for succor.
She could not know, of course, the straits in which Zveri had found
himself. He had not dared to detach a party of his men to search for
her, fearing that, in their mutinous state of mind, they might murder
any of his lieutenants that he placed in charge of them and return
to their own tribe, where, through the medium of gossip, word of his
expedition and its activities might reach his enemies; nor could he
lead all of his force upon such an expedition in person, since he must
remain at the base camp to receive the supplies that he knew would
presently be arriving.
Perhaps, had he known definitely the danger that confronted Zora,
he would have cast aside every other consideration and gone to her
rescue; but being naturally suspicious of the loyalty of all men,
he had persuaded himself that Zora had deliberately deserted him--a
half-hearted conviction that had at least the effect of rendering his
naturally unpleasant disposition infinitely more unbearable, so that
those who should have been his companions and his support in his hour
of need contrived as much as possible to keep out of his way.
And while these things were transpiring, little Nkima sped through
the jungle upon a mission. In the service of his beloved master,
little Nkima could hold to a single thought and a line of action for
considerable periods of time at a stretch; but eventually his attention
was certain to be attracted by some extraneous matter and then, for
hours perhaps, he would forget all about whatever duty had been
imposed upon him; but when it again occurred to him, he would carry on
entirely without any appreciation of the fact that there had been a
break in the continuity of his endeavor.
Tarzan, of course, was entirely aware of this inherent weakness in
his little friend; but he knew, too, from experience that, however
many lapses might occur, Nkima would never entirely abandon any
design upon which his mind had been fixed; and having himself none of
civilized man's slavish subservience to time, he was prone to overlook
Nkima's erratic performance of a duty as a fault of almost negligible
consequence. Some day Nkima would arrive at his destination. Perhaps it
would be too late. If such a thought occurred at all to the ape-man,
doubtless he passed it off with a shrug.
But time is of the essence of many things to civilized man. He fumes,
and frets, and reduces his mental and physical efficiency if he is not
accomplishing something concrete during the passage of every minute
of that medium which seems to him like a flowing river, the waters of
which are utterly wasted if they are not utilized as they pass by.
Imbued by some such insane conception of time, Wayne Colt sweated and
stumbled through the jungle, seeking his companions as though the very
fate of the universe hung upon the slender chance that he should reach
them without the loss of a second.
The futility of his purpose would have been entirely apparent to him
could he have known that he was seeking his companions in the wrong
direction. Wayne Colt was lost. Fortunately for him he did not know it;
at least not yet. That stupefying conviction was to come later.
Days passed and still his wanderings revealed no camp. He was hard
put to it to find food, and his fare was meager and often revolting,
consisting of such fruits as he had already learned to know and of
rodents, which he managed to bag only with the greatest difficulty
and an appalling waste of that precious time which he still prized
above all things. He had cut himself a stout stick and would lie in
wait along some tiny runway where observation had taught him he might
expect to find his prey, until some unwary little creature came within
striking distance. He had learned that dawn and dusk were the best
hunting hours for the only animals that he could hope to bag, and he
learned other things as he moved through the grim jungle, all of which
pertained to his struggle for existence. He had learned, for instance,
that it was wiser for him to take to the trees whenever he heard a
strange noise. Usually the animals got out of his way as he approached;
but once a rhinoceros charged him, and again he almost stumbled upon a
lion at his kill. Providence intervened in each instance and he escaped
un-killed, but thus he learned caution.
About noon one day he came to a river that effectually blocked his
further progress in the direction that he had been travelling. By this
time the conviction was strong upon him that he was utterly lost, and
not knowing which direction he should take, he decided to follow the
line of least resistance and travel down hill with the river, upon the
shore of which he was positive that sooner or later he must discover a
native village.
He had proceeded no great distance in the new direction, following a
hard-packed trail, worn deep by the countless feet of many beasts, when
his attention was arrested by a sound that reached his ears dimly from
a distance. It came from somewhere ahead of him, and his hearing, now
far more acute than it ever had been before, told him that something
was approaching. Following the practice that he had found most
conducive to longevity since he had been wandering alone and ill-armed
against the dangers of the jungle, he flung himself quickly into a tree
and sought a point of vantage from where he could see the trail below
him. He could not see it for any distance ahead, so tortuously did it
wind through the jungle. Whatever was coming would not be visible until
it was almost directly beneath him, but that now was of no importance.
This experience of the jungle had taught him patience, and perchance
he was learning, too, a little of the valuelessness of time, for he
settled himself comfortably to wait at his ease.
The noise that he heard was little more than an imperceptible rustling,
but presently it assumed a new volume and a new significance, so that
now he was sure that it was someone running rapidly along the trail,
and not one but two--he distinctly heard the footfalls of the heavier
creature mingling with those he had first heard.
And then he heard a man's voice cry "Stop!" and now the sounds were
very close to him, just around the first bend ahead. The sound of
running feet stopped, to be followed by that of a scuffle and strange
oaths in a man's voice.
And then a woman's voice spoke, "Let me go! You will never get me where
you are taking me alive."
"Then I'll take you for myself now," said the man.
Colt had heard enough. There had been something familiar in the tones
of the woman's voice. Silently he dropped to the trail, drawing his
dagger, and stepped quickly toward the sounds of the altercation. As
he rounded the bend in the trail, he saw just before him only a man's
back--by thôb and thorrîb an Aarab--but beyond the man and in his
clutches Colt knew the woman was hidden by the flowing robes of her
assailant.
Leaping forward, he seized the fellow by the shoulder and jerked him
suddenly about; and as the man faced him Colt saw that it was Abu
Batn, and now, too, he saw why the voice of the woman had seemed
familiar--she was Zora Drinov.
Abu Batn purpled with rage at the interruption, but great as was his
anger so, too, was his surprise as he recognized the American. Just
for an instant he thought that possibly this was the advance guard of
a party of searchers and avengers from Zveri's camp, but when he had
time to observe the unkempt, disheveled, unarmed condition of Colt he
realized that the man was alone and doubtless lost.
"Dog of a Nasrâny!" he cried, jerking away from Colt's grasp. "Lay not
your filthy hand upon a true believer." At the same time he moved to
draw his pistol, but in that instant Colt was upon him again, and the
two men went down in the narrow trail, the American on top.
What happened then, happened very quickly. As Abu Batn drew his pistol,
he caught the hammer in the folds of his thôb, so that the weapon was
discharged. The bullet went harmlessly into the ground, but the report
warned Colt of his imminent danger, and in self defense he ran his
blade through the sheykh's throat.
As he rose slowly from the body of the sheykh, Zora Drinov grasped him
by the arm. "Quick!" she said. "That shot will bring the others. They
must not find us."
He did not wait to question her, but, stooping, quickly salvaged Abu
Batn's weapons and ammunition, including a long musket that lay in the
trail beside him; and then with Zora in the lead they ran swiftly up
the trail down which he had just come.
Presently, hearing no indication of pursuit, Colt halted the girl.
"Can you climb?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied. "Why?"
"We are going to take to the trees," he said. "We can go into the
jungle a short distance and throw them off the tail."
"Good!" she said, and with his assistance clambered into the branches
of a tree beneath which they stood.
Fortunately for them, several large trees grew close together so that
they were able to make their way with comparative ease a full hundred
feet from the trail, where, climbing high into the branches of a great
tree, they were effectually hidden from sight in all directions.
When at last they were seated side by side in a great crotch, Zora
turned toward Colt. "Comrade Colt!" she said. "What has happened? What
are you doing here alone? Were you looking for me?"
The man grinned. "I was looking for the whole party," he said. "I have
seen no one since we entered Opar. Where is the camp, and why was Abu
Batn pursuing you?"
"We are a long way from the camp," replied Zora. "I do not know how
far, though I could return to it, if it were not for the Aarabs." And
then briefly she told the story of Abu Batn's treachery and of her
captivity. "The sheykh made a temporary camp shortly after noon today.
The men were very tired, and for the first time in days they relaxed
their vigilance over me. I realized that at last the moment I had been
awaiting so anxiously had arrived, and while they slept I escaped into
the jungle. My absence must have been discovered shortly after I left,
and Abu Batn overtook me. The rest you witnessed."
"Fate functioned deviously and altogether wonderfully," he said. "To
think that your only chance of rescue hinged upon the contingency of my
capture at Opar!"
She smiled. "Fate reaches back further than that," she said. "Suppose
you had not been born?"
"Then Abu Batn would have carried you off to the harem of some black
sultan, or perhaps another man would have been captured at Opar."
"I am glad that you were born," said Zora.
"Thank you," said Colt.
While listening for signs of pursuit, they conversed in low tones, Colt
narrating in detail the events leading up to his capture, though some
of the details of his escape he omitted through a sense of loyalty to
the nameless girl who had aided him. Neither did he stress Zveri's
lack of control over his men, or what Colt considered his inexcusable
cowardice in leaving himself and Romero to their fate within the walls
of Opar without attempting to succor them, for he believed that the
girl was Zveri's sweetheart and he did not wish to offend her.
"What became of Comrade Romero?" she asked.
"I do not know," he said. "The last I saw of him he was standing his
ground, fighting off those crooked little demons."
"Alone?" she asked.
"I was pretty well occupied myself," he said.
"I do not mean that," she replied. "Of course, I know you were there
with Romero, but who else?"
"The others had not arrived," said Colt.
"You mean you two went in alone?" she asked.
Colt hesitated. "You see," he said, "the blacks refused to enter the
city, so the rest of us had to go in or abandon the attempt to get the
treasures."
"But only you and Miguel did go in. Is that not true?" she demanded.
"I passed out so soon, you see," he said with a laugh, "that really I
do not know exactly what did happen."
The girl's eyes narrowed. "It was beastly," she said.
As they talked, Colt's eyes were often upon the girl's face. How lovely
she was, even beneath the rags and the dirt that were the outward
symbols of her captivity among the Aarabs. She was a little thinner
than when he had last seen her, and her eyes were tired and her face
drawn from privation and worry. But, perhaps, by very contrast her
beauty was the more startling. It seemed incredible that she could love
the coarse, loud-mouthed Zveri, who was her antithesis in every respect.
Presently she broke a short silence. "We must try to get back to the
base camp," she said. "It is vital that I be there. So much must be
done, so much that no one else can do."
"You think only of the cause," he said; "never of yourself. You are
very loyal."
"Yes," she said in a low voice. "I am loyal to the thing I have sworn
to accomplish."
"I am afraid," he said, "that for the past few days I have been
thinking more of my own welfare than of that of the proletariat."
"I am afraid that at heart you are still bourgeois," she said, "and
that you cannot yet help looking upon the proletariat with contempt."
"What makes you say that?" he asked. "I am sure that I said nothing to
warrant it."
"Often a slight unconscious inflection in the use of a word alters
the significance of a whole statement, revealing a speaker's secret
thoughts."
Colt laughed good naturedly. "You are a dangerous person to talk to,"
he said. "Am I to be shot at sunrise?"
She looked at him seriously. "You are different from the others," she
said. "I think you could never imagine how suspicious they are. What I
have said is only in the way of warning you to watch your every word
when you are talking with them. Some of them are narrow and ignorant,
and they are already suspicious of you because of your antecedents.
They are sensitively jealous of a new importance which they believe
their class has attained."
"_Their_ class?" he asked. "I thought you told me once that you were of
the proletariat?"
If he had thought that he had surprised her and that she would show
embarrassment, he was mistaken. She met his eyes squarely and without
wavering. "I am," she said, "but I can still see the weaknesses of my
class."
He looked at her steadily for a long moment, the shadow of a smile
touching his lips. "I do not believe--"
"Why do you stop?" she asked. "What is it that you do not believe?"
"Forgive me," he said. "I was starting to think aloud."
"Be careful, Comrade Colt," she warned him. "Thinking aloud is
sometimes fatal;" but she tempered her words with a smile.
Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of the voices of men
in the distance. "They are coming," said the girl.
Colt nodded, and the two remained silent, listening to the sounds of
approaching voices and footsteps. The men came abreast of them and
halted, and Zora, who understood the Aarab tongue, heard one of them
say, "The trail stops here. They have gone into the jungle."
"Who can the man be who is with her?" asked another.
"It is a Nasrâny. I can tell by the imprint of his feet," said another.
"They would go toward the river," said a third. "That is the way that I
should go if I were trying to escape."
"Wullah! You speak words of wisdom," said the first speaker. "We will
spread out here and search toward the river; but look out for the
Nasrâny. He has the pistol and the musket of the sheykh."
The two fugitives heard the sound of pursuit diminishing in the
distance as the Aarabs forced their way into the jungle toward the
river. "I think we had better get out of this," said Colt; "and while
it may be pretty hard going, I believe that we had better stick to the
brush for awhile and keep on away from the river."
"Yes," replied Zora, "for that is the general direction in which the
camp lies." And so they commenced their long and weary march in search
of their comrades.
They were still pushing through dense jungle when night overtook them.
Their clothes were in rags and their bodies scratched and torn, mute
and painful reminders of the thorny way that they had traversed.
Hungry and thirsty they made a dry camp among the branches of a tree,
where Colt built a rude platform for the girl, while he prepared to
sleep upon the ground at the foot of the great bole. But to this, Zora
would not listen.
"That will not do at all," she said. "We are in no position to permit
ourselves to be the victims of every silly convention that would
ordinarily order our lives in civilized surroundings. I appreciate your
thoughtful consideration, but I would rather have you up here in the
tree with me than down there where the first hunting lion that passed
might get you." And so with the girl's help Colt built another platform
close to the one that he had built for her; and as darkness fell, they
stretched their tired bodies on their rude couches and sought to sleep.
Presently Colt dozed, and in his dream he saw the slender figure of a
star-eyed goddess, whose cheeks were wet with tears, but when he took
her in his arms and kissed her he saw that she was Zora Drinov; and
then a hideous sound from the jungle below awakened him with a start,
so that he sat up, seizing the musket of the sheykh in readiness.
"A hunting lion," said the girl in a low voice.
"Phew!" exclaimed Colt. "I must have been asleep, for that certainly
gave me a start."
"Yes, you were asleep," said the girl. "I heard you talking," and he
felt that he detected laughter in her voice.
"What was I saying?" asked Colt.
"Maybe you wouldn't want to hear. It might embarrass you," she told him.
"No. Come ahead. Tell me."
"You said 'I love you'."
"Did I, really?"
"Yes. I wonder whom you were talking to," she said, banteringly.
"I wonder," said Colt, recalling that in his dream the figure of one
girl had merged into that of another.
The lion, hearing their voices, moved away growling. He was not hunting
the hated man-things.
XII
DOWN TRAILS OF TERROR
Slow days dragged by for the man and woman searching for their
comrades--days filled with fatiguing effort, most of which was
directed toward the procuring of food and water for their sustenance.
Increasingly was Colt impressed by the character and personality of
his companion. With apprehension he noticed that she was gradually
weakening beneath the strain of fatigue and the scant and inadequate
food that he had been able to procure for her. But yet she kept a
brave front and tried to hide her condition from him. Never once had
she complained. Never by word or look had she reproached him for his
inability to procure sufficient food, a failure which he looked upon as
indicative of inefficiency. She did not know that he himself often went
hungry that she might eat, telling her when he returned with food that
he had eaten his share where he had found it, a deception that was made
possible by the fact that when he hunted he often left Zora to rest in
some place of comparative security, that she might not be subjected to
needless exertion.
He had left her thus today, safe in a great tree beside a winding
stream. She was very tired. It seemed to her that now she was always
tired. The thought of continuing the march appalled her, and yet
she knew that it must be undertaken. She wondered how much longer
she could go on before she sank exhausted for the last time. It was
not, however, for herself that she was most concerned, but for this
man--this scion of wealth, and capitalism, and power, whose constant
consideration and cheerfulness and tenderness had been a revelation
to her. She knew that when she could go no further, he would not leave
her and that thus his chances of escape from the grim jungle would be
jeopardized and perhaps lost forever because of her. She hoped, for
his sake, that death would come quickly to her that, thus relieved of
responsibility, he might move on more rapidly in search of that elusive
camp that seemed to her now little more than a meaningless myth. But
from the thought of death she shrank, not because of the fear of death,
as well might have been the case, but for an entirely new reason, the
sudden realization of which gave her a distinct shock. The tragedy of
this sudden self-awakening left her numb with terror. It was a thought
that must be put from her, one that she must not entertain even for an
instant; and yet it persisted--persisted with a dull insistency that
brought tears to her eyes.
Colt had gone farther afield than usual this morning in his search for
food, for he had sighted an antelope; and, his imagination inflamed by
the contemplation of so much meat in a single kill and what it would
mean for Zora, he clung doggedly to the trail, lured further on by an
occasional glimpse of his quarry in the distance.
The antelope was only vaguely aware of an enemy, for he was upwind from
Colt and had not caught his scent, while the occasional glimpses he
had had of the man had served mostly to arouse his curiosity; so that
though he moved away he stopped often and turned back in an effort to
satisfy his wonderment. But presently he waited a moment too long. In
his desperation, Colt chanced a long shot; and as the animal dropped,
the man could not stifle a loud cry of exultation.
As time, that she had no means of measuring, dragged on, Zora grew
increasingly apprehensive on Colt's account. Never before had he left
her for so long a time, so that she began to construct all sorts of
imaginary calamities that might have overtaken him. She wished now that
she had gone with him. If she had thought it possible to track him,
she would have followed him; but she knew that that was impossible.
However, her forced inactivity made her restless. Her cramped position
in the tree became unendurable; and then, suddenly assailed by thirst,
she lowered herself to the ground and walked toward the river.
When she had drunk and was about to return to the tree, she heard the
sound of something approaching from the direction in which Colt had
gone. Instantly her heart leaped with gladness, her depression and
even much of her fatigue seemed to vanish, and she realized suddenly
how very lonely she had been without him. How dependent we are upon
the society of our fellow-men, we seldom realize until we become the
victims of enforced solitude. There were tears of happiness in Zora
Drinov's eyes as she advanced to meet Colt. Then the bushes before
her parted, and there stepped into view, before her horrified gaze, a
monstrous, hairy ape.
To-yat, the king, was as much surprised as the girl, but his reactions
were almost opposite. It was with no horror that he viewed this soft,
white she-Mangani. To the girl there was naught but ferocity in his
mien, though in his breast was an entirely different emotion. He
lumbered toward her; and then, as though released from a momentary
paralysis, Zora turned to flee. But how futilely, she realized an
instant later as a hairy paw gripped her roughly by the shoulder. For
an instant she had forgotten the sheykh's pistol that Colt always left
with her for self-protection. Jerking it from its holster, she turned
upon the beast; but To-yat, seeing in the weapon a club with which she
intended to attack him, wrenched it from her grasp and hurled it aside;
and then, though she struggled and fought to regain her freedom, he
lifted her lightly to his hip and lumbered off into the jungle in the
direction that he had been going.
Colt tarried at his kill only long enough to remove the feet, the head
and the viscera, that he might by that much reduce the weight of the
burden that he must carry back to camp, for he was quite well aware
that his privation had greatly reduced his strength.
Lifting the carcass to his shoulder, he started back toward camp,
exulting in the thought that for once he was returning with an ample
quantity of strength-giving flesh. As he staggered along beneath the
weight of the small antelope, he made plans that imparted a rosy hue
to the future. They would rest now until their strength returned; and
while they were resting they would smoke all of the meat of his kill
that they did not eat at once, and thus they would have a reserve
supply of food that he felt would carry them a great distance. Two
days' rest with plenty of food would, he was positive, fill them with
renewed hope and vitality.
As he started laboriously along the back trail, he commenced to realize
that he had come much farther than he had thought, but it had been
well worth while. Even though he reached Zora in a state of utter
exhaustion, he did not fear for a minute but that he would reach her,
so confident was he of his own powers of endurance and the strength of
his will.
As he staggered at last to his goal, he looked up into the tree and
called her by name. There was no reply. In that first brief instant of
silence, a dull and sickening premonition of disaster crept over him.
He dropped the carcass of the deer and looked hurriedly about.
"Zora! Zora!" he cried; but only the silence of the jungle was his
answer. Then his searching eyes found the pistol of Abu Batn where
To-yat had dropped it; and his worst fears were substantiated, for he
knew that if Zora had gone away of her own volition she would have
taken the weapon with her. She had been attacked by something and
carried off, of that he was positive; and presently as he examined the
ground closely he discovered the imprints of a great man-like foot.
A sudden madness seized Wayne Colt. The cruelty of the jungle, the
injustice of Nature aroused within his breast a red rage. He wanted
to kill the thing that had stolen Zora Drinov. He wanted to tear it
with his hands and rend it with his teeth. All the savage instincts of
primitive man were reborn within him as, forgetting the meat that the
moment before had meant so much to him, he plunged headlong into the
jungle upon the faint spoor of To-yat, the king ape.
* * * * *
La of Opar made her way slowly through the jungle after she had
escaped from Ibn Dammuk and his companions. Her native city called to
her, though she knew that she might not enter it in safety; but what
place was there in all the world that she might go to? Something of a
conception of the immensity of the great world had been impressed upon
her during her wandering since she had left Opar, and the futility of
searching further for Tarzan had been indelibly impressed upon her
mind. So she would go back to the vicinity of Opar, and perhaps some
day again Tarzan would come there. That great dangers beset her way she
did not care, for La of Opar was indifferent to life that had never
brought her much of happiness. She lived because she lived; and it is
true that she would strive to prolong life because such is the law of
Nature, which imbues the most miserable unfortunates with as powerful
an urge to prolong their misery as it gives to the fortunate few who
are happy and contented a similar desire to live.
Presently she became aware of pursuit, and so she increased her speed
and kept ahead of those who were following her. Finding a trail, she
followed it, knowing that if it permitted her to increase her speed
it would permit her pursuers also to increase theirs, nor would she
be able to hear them now as plainly as she had before, when they were
forcing their way through the jungle. Still she was confident that they
could not overtake her; but as she was moving swiftly on, a turn in the
trail brought her to a sudden stop, for there, blocking her retreat,
stood a great, maned lion. This time La remembered the animal, not
as Jad-bal-ja, the hunting mate of Tarzan, but as the lion that had
rescued her from the leopard, after Tarzan had deserted her.
Lions were familiar creatures of La of Opar, where they were often
captured by the priests while cubs, and where it was not unusual to
raise some of them occasionally as pets until their growing ferocity
made them unsafe. Therefore, La knew that lions could associate with
people without devouring them; and, having had experience of this
lion's disposition and having as little sense of fear as Tarzan
himself, she quickly made her choice between the lion and the Aarabs
pursuing her and advanced directly toward the great beast, in whose
attitude she saw there was no immediate menace. She was sufficiently a
child of nature to know that death came quickly and painlessly in the
embrace of a lion, and so she had no fear, but only a great curiosity.
Jad-bal-ja had long had the scent spoor of La in his nostrils, as she
had moved with the wind along the jungle trails; and so he had awaited
her, his curiosity aroused by the fainter scent spoor of the men who
trailed her. Now as she came toward him along the trail, he stepped to
one side that she might pass and, like a great cat, rubbed his maned
neck against her legs.
La paused and laid a hand upon his head and spoke to him in low tones
in the language of the first man--the language of the great apes that
was the common language of her people, as it was Tarzan's language.
Hajellan, leading his men in pursuit of La, rounded a bend in the trail
and stopped aghast. He saw a great lion facing him, a lion that bared
its fangs now in an angry snarl; and beside the lion, one hand tangled
in its thick black mane, stood the white woman.
The woman spoke a single word to the lion in a language that Hajellan
did not understand. "Kill!" said La in the language of the great apes.
So accustomed was the high priestess of the Flaming God to command
that it did not occur to her that Numa might do other than obey; and
so, although she did not know that it was thus that Tarzan had been
accustomed to command Jad-bal-ja, she was not surprised when the lion
crouched and charged.
Fodil and Dareyem had pushed close behind their companion as he halted,
and great was their horror when they saw the lion leap forward. They
turned and fled, colliding with the blacks behind them; but Hajellan
only stood paralyzed with fright as Jad-bal-ja reared upon his hind
feet and seized him, his great jaws crunching through the man's head
and shoulders, cracking his skull like an egg shell. He gave the body a
vicious shake and dropped it. Then he turned and looked inquiringly at
La.
In the woman's heart was no more sympathy for her enemies than in the
heart of Jad-bal-ja; she only wished to be rid of them. She did not
care whether they lived or died, and so she did not urge Jad-bal-ja
after those who had escaped. She wondered what the lion would do now
that he had made his kill; and knowing that the vicinity of a feeding
lion was no safe place, she turned and moved on along the trail. But
Jad-bal-ja was no eater of man, not because he had any moral scruples,
but because he was young and active and had no difficulty in killing
prey that he relished far more than he did the salty flesh of man.
Therefore, he left Hajellan lying where he had fallen and followed La
along the shadowy jungle trails.
A black man, naked but for a G string, bearing a message from the Coast
for Zveri, paused where two trails crossed. From his left the wind
was blowing, and to his sensitive nostrils it bore the faint stench
that announced the presence of a lion. Without a moment's hesitation,
the man vanished into the foliage of a tree that overhung the trail.
Perhaps Simba was not hungry, perhaps Simba was not hunting; but the
black messenger was taking no chances. He was sure that the lion was
approaching, and he would wait here where he could see both trails
until he discovered which one Simba took.
Watching with more or less indifference because of the safety of his
sanctuary, the negro was ill-prepared for the shock which the sight
that presently broke upon his vision induced. Never in the lowest steps
of his superstition had he conceived such a scene as he now witnessed,
and he blinked his eyes repeatedly to make sure that he was awake; but,
no, there could be no mistake. It was indeed a white woman almost naked
but for golden ornaments and a soft strip of leopard skin beneath her
narrow stomacher--a white woman who walked with the fingers of one hand
tangled in the black mane of a great golden lion.
Along the trail they came, and at the crossing they turned to the left
into the trail that he had been following. As they disappeared from
his view, the black man fingered the fetich that was suspended from a
cord about his neck and prayed to Mulungo, the god of his people; and
when he again set out toward his destination he took another and more
circuitous route.
Often, after darkness had fallen, Tarzan had come to the camp of the
conspirators and, perched in a tree above them, listened to Zveri
outlining his plans to his companions; so that the ape-man was familiar
with what they intended, down to the minutest detail.
Now, knowing that they would not be prepared to strike for some time,
he was roaming the jungle far away from the sight and stench of man,
enjoying to the full the peace and freedom that were his life. He
knew that Nkima should have reached his destination by this time and
delivered the message that Tarzan had dispatched by him. He was still
puzzled by the strange disappearance of La and piqued by his inability
to pick up her trail. He was genuinely grieved by her disappearance,
for already he had his plans well formulated to restore her to her
throne and punish her enemies; but he gave himself over to no futile
regrets as he swung through the trees in sheer joy of living, or when
hunger overtook him, stalked his prey in the grim and terrible silence
of the hunting beast.
Sometimes he thought of the good-looking young American, to whom he had
taken a fancy in spite of the fact that he considered him an enemy. Had
he known of Colt's now almost hopeless plight, it is possible that he
would have gone to his rescue, but he knew nothing of it.
So, alone and friendless, sunk to the uttermost depths of despair,
Wayne Colt stumbled through the jungle in search of Zora Drinov and her
abductor. But already he had lost the faint trail; and To-yat, far to
his right, lumbered along with his captive safe from pursuit.
Weak from exhaustion and shock, thoroughly terrified now by the
hopelessness of her hideous position, Zora had lost consciousness.
To-yat feared that she was dead; but he carried her on, nevertheless,
that he might at least have the satisfaction of exhibiting her to his
tribe as evidence of his prowess and, perhaps, to furnish an excuse for
another Dum-Dum. Secure in his might, conscious of few enemies that
might with safety to themselves molest him, To-yat did not take the
precaution of silence, but wandered on through the jungle heedless of
all dangers.
Many were the keen ears and sensitive nostrils that carried the message
of his passing to their owners, but to only one did the strange
mingling of the scent spoor of the bull-ape with that of a she-Mangani
suggest a condition worthy of investigation. So as To-yat pursued his
careless way, another creature of the jungle, moving silently on swift
feet, bore down upon him; and when, from a point of vantage, keen eyes
beheld the shaggy bull and the slender, delicate girl, a lip curled in
a silent snarl. A moment later To-yat, the king ape, was brought to a
snarling, bristling halt as the giant figure of a bronzed Tarmangani
dropped lightly into the trail before him, a living threat to his
possession of his prize.
The wicked eyes of the bull shot fire and hate. "Go away," he said. "I
am To-yat. Go away or I kill."
"Put down the she," demanded Tarzan.
"No," bellowed To-yat. "She is mine."
"Put down the she," repeated Tarzan, "and go your way; or I kill. I am
Tarzan of the Apes, Lord of the Jungle!"
Tarzan drew the hunting knife of his father and crouched as he advanced
toward the bull. To-yat snarled; and seeing that the other meant to
give battle, he cast the body of the girl aside that he might not be
handicapped. As they circled, each looking for an advantage, there came
a sudden, terrific crashing sound in the jungle down wind from them.
Tantor, the elephant, asleep in the security of the depth of the
forest, had been suddenly awakened by the growling of the two beasts.
Instantly his nostrils caught a familiar scent spoor--the scent spoor
of his beloved Tarzan--and his ears told him that he was facing in
battle the great Mangani, whose scent was also strong in the nostrils
of Tantor.
To the snapping and bending of trees, the great bull rushed through the
forest; and as he emerged suddenly, towering above them, To-yat, the
king ape, seeing death in those angry eyes and gleaming tusks, turned
and fled into the jungle.
XIII
THE LION-MAN
Peter Zveri was, in a measure, regaining some of the confidence that
he had lost in the ultimate success of his plan, for his agents
were succeeding at last in getting to him some of his much needed
supplies, together with contingents of disaffected blacks wherewith to
recruit his forces to sufficient numbers to insure the success of his
contemplated invasion of Italian Somaliland. It was his plan to make a
swift and sudden incursion, destroying native villages and capturing an
outpost or two, then retreating quickly across the border, pack away
the French uniforms for possible future use and undertake the overthrow
of Ras Tafari in Abyssinia, where his agents had assured him conditions
were ripe for a revolution. With Abyssinia under his control to serve
as a rallying point, his agents assured him that the native tribes of
all Northern Africa would flock to his standards.
In distant Bokhara a fleet of two hundred planes--bombers, scouts,
and fighting planes--made available through the greed of American
capitalists, were being mobilized for a sudden dash across Persia and
Arabia to his base in Abyssinia. With these to support his great native
army, he felt that his position would be secure, the malcontents of
Egypt would join forces with him and, with Europe embroiled in a war
that would prevent any concerted action against him, his dream of
empire might be assured and his position made impregnable for all time.
Perhaps it was a mad dream; perhaps Peter Zveri was mad--but, then,
what great world conqueror has not been a little mad?
He saw his frontiers pushed toward the south as, little by little,
he extended his dominion, until one day he should rule a great
continent--Peter I, Emperor of Africa.
"You seem happy, Comrade Zveri," said little Antonio Mori.
"Why should I not be, Tony?" demanded the dreamer. "I see success just
before us. We should all be happy, but we are going to be very much
happier later on."
"Yes," said Tony, "when the Philippines are free, I shall be very
happy. Do you not think that I should be a very big man back there,
then, Comrade Zveri?"
"Yes," said the Russian, "but you can be a bigger man if you stay here
and work for me. How would you like to be a Grand Duke, Tony?"
"A Grand Duke!" exclaimed the Filipino. "I thought there were no more
Grand Dukes."
"But perhaps there may be again."
"They were wicked men who ground down the working classes," said Tony.
"To be a Grand Duke who grinds down the rich and takes money from
them might not be so bad," said Peter. "Grand Dukes are very rich and
powerful. Would you not like to be rich and powerful, Tony?"
"Well, of course, who would not?"
"Then always do as I tell you, Tony; and some day I shall make you a
Grand Duke," said Zveri.
The camp was filled with activity now at all times, for Zveri had
conceived the plan of whipping his native recruits into some semblance
of military order and discipline. Romero, Dorsky, and Ivitch having had
military experience, the camp was filled with marching men, deploying,
charging and assembling, practicing the Manual of Arms, and being
instructed in the rudiments of fire discipline.
The day following his conversation with Zveri, Tony was assisting the
Mexican, who was sweating over a company of black recruits.
During a period of rest, as the Mexican and Filipino were enjoying
a smoke, Tony turned to his companion. "You have travelled much,
Comrade," said the Filipino. "Perhaps you can tell me what sort of
uniform a Grand Duke wears."
"I have heard," said Romero, "that in Hollywood and New York many of
them wear aprons."
Tony grimaced. "I do not think," he said, "that I want to be a Grand
Duke."
The blacks in the camp, held sufficiently interested and busy in
drills to keep them out of mischief, with plenty of food and with
the prospects of fighting and marching still in the future, were
a contented and happy lot. Those who had undergone the harrowing
experiences of Opar and those other untoward incidents that had upset
their equanimity had entirely regained their self confidence, a
condition for which Zveri took all the credit to himself, assuming that
it was due to his remarkable gift for leadership. And then a runner
arrived in camp with a message for him and with a weird story of having
seen a white woman hunting in the jungle with a black-maned golden
lion. This was sufficient to recall to the blacks the other weird
occurrences and to remind them that there were supernatural agencies at
work in this territory, that it was peopled by ghosts and demons, and
that at any moment some dire calamity might befall them.
But if this story upset the equanimity of the blacks, the message that
the runner brought to Zveri precipitated an emotional outbreak in the
Russian that bordered closely upon the frenzy of insanity. Blaspheming
in a loud voice, he strode back and forth before his tent; nor would he
explain to any of his lieutenants the cause of his anger.
And while Zveri fumed, other forces were gathering against him. Through
the jungle moved a hundred ebon warriors, their smooth, sleek skin,
their rolling muscles and elastic step bespeaking their physical
fitness. They were naked but for narrow loin cloths of leopard or
lion skin and a few of those ornaments that are dear to the hearts of
savages--anklets and arm bands of copper and necklaces of the claws
of lions or leopards--while above the head of each floated a white
plume. But here the primitiveness of their equipment ceased, for their
weapons were the weapons of modern fighting men; high-powered service
rifles, revolvers, and bandoleers of cartridges. It was, indeed, a
formidable appearing company that swung steadily and silently through
the jungle, and upon the shoulder of the black chief who led them rode
a little monkey.
* * * * *
Tarzan was relieved when Tantor's sudden and unexpected charge drove
To-yat into the jungle; for Tarzan of the Apes found no pleasure in
quarreling with the Mangani, which he considered above all other
creatures his brothers. He never forgot that he had been nursed at the
breast of Kala, the she-ape, nor that he had grown to manhood in the
tribe of Kerchak, the king. From infancy to manhood he had thought of
himself only as an ape, and even now it was often easier for him to
understand and appreciate the motives of the great Mangani than those
of man.
At a signal from Tarzan, Tantor stopped; and assuming again his
customary composure, though still alert to any danger that might
threaten his friend, he watched while the ape-man turned and knelt
beside the prostrate girl. Tarzan had at first thought her dead, but he
soon discovered that she was only in a swoon. Lifting her in his arms,
he spoke a half dozen words to the great pachyderm, who turned about
and, putting down his head, started off straight into the dense jungle,
making a pathway along which Tarzan bore the unconscious girl.
Straight as an arrow moved Tantor, the elephant, to halt at last upon
the bank of a considerable river. Beyond this was a spot that Tarzan
had in mind to which he wished to convey To-yat's unfortunate captive,
whom he had recognized immediately as the young woman he had seen in
the base camp of the conspirators and a cursory examination of whom
convinced him was upon the verge of death from starvation, shock, and
exposure.
Once again he spoke to Tantor; and the great pachyderm, twining his
trunk around their bodies, lifted the two gently to his broad back.
Then he waded into the river and set out for the opposite shore. The
channel in the center was deep and swift, and Tantor was swept off his
feet and carried down stream for a considerable distance before he
found footing again, but eventually he won to the opposite bank. Here
again he went ahead, making trail, until at last he broke into a broad,
well marked game trail.
Now Tarzan took the lead, and Tantor followed. While they moved thus
silently toward their destination, Zora Drinov opened her eyes.
Instantly recollection of her plight filled her consciousness; and then
almost simultaneously she realized that her cheek, resting upon the
shoulder of her captor, was not pressing against a shaggy coat, but
against the smooth skin of a human body, and then she turned her head
and looked at the profile of the creature that was carrying her.
She thought at first that she was the victim of some strange
hallucination of terror; for, of course, she could not measure the time
that she had been unconscious, nor recall any of the incidents that had
occurred during that period. The last thing that she remembered was
that she had been in the arms of a great ape, who was carrying her off
to the jungle. She had closed her eyes; and when she opened them again,
the ape had been transformed into a handsome demigod of the forest.
She closed her eyes and turned her head so that she faced back over the
man's shoulder. She thought that she would keep her eyes tightly closed
for a moment, then open them and turn them stealthily once more toward
the face of the creature that was carrying her so lightly along the
jungle trail. Perhaps this time he would be an ape again, and then she
would know that she was indeed mad, or dreaming.
And when she did open her eyes, the sight that met them convinced her
that she was experiencing a nightmare; for plodding along the trail
directly behind her, was a giant bull elephant.
Tarzan, apprised of her returning consciousness by the movement of her
head upon his shoulder, turned his own to look at her and saw her
gazing at Tantor in wide-eyed astonishment. Then she turned toward him,
and their eyes met.
"Who are you?" she asked in a whisper. "Am I dreaming?" But the ape-man
only turned his eyes to the front and made no reply.
Zora thought of struggling to free herself; but realizing that she was
very weak and helpless, she at last resigned herself to her fate and
let her cheek fall again to the bronzed shoulder of the ape-man.
When Tarzan finally stopped and laid his burden upon the ground, it was
in a little clearing through which ran a tiny stream of clear water.
Immense trees arched overhead, and through their foliage the great sun
dappled the grass beneath them.
As Zora Drinov lay stretched upon the soft turf, she realized for the
first time how weak she was; for when she attempted to rise, she found
that she could not. As her eyes took in the scene about her, it seemed
more than ever like a dream--the great bull elephant standing almost
above her and the bronzed figure of an almost naked giant squatting
upon his haunches beside the little stream. She saw him fold a great
leaf into the shape of a cornucopia and, after filling it with water,
rise and come toward her. Without a word he stooped, and putting an arm
beneath her shoulders and raising her to a sitting position, he offered
her the water from his improvised cup.
She drank deeply, for she was very thirsty. Then, looking up into the
handsome face above her, she voiced her thanks; but when the man did
not reply, she thought, naturally, that he did not understand her.
When she had satisfied her thirst and he had lowered her gently to the
ground again, he swung lightly into a tree and disappeared into the
forest. But above her the great elephant stood, as though on guard, his
huge body swaying gently to and fro.
The quiet and peace of her surroundings tended to soothe her nerves,
but deeply rooted in her mind was the conviction that her situation was
most precarious. The man was a mystery to her; and while she knew,
of course, that the ape that had stolen her had not been transformed
miraculously into a handsome forest god, yet she could not account
in any way for his presence or for the disappearance of the ape,
except upon the rather extravagant hypothesis that the two had worked
together, the ape having stolen her for this man, who was its master.
There had been nothing in the man's attitude to suggest that he
intended to harm her, and yet so accustomed was she to gauge all men by
the standards of civilized society that she could not conceive that he
had other than ulterior designs.
To her analytical mind the man presented a paradox that intrigued her
imagination, seeming, as he did, so utterly out of place in this savage
African jungle; while at the same time he harmonized perfectly with
his surroundings, in which he seemed absolutely at home and assured
of himself, a fact that was still further impressed upon her by the
presence of the wild bull elephant, to which the man paid no more
attention than one would to a lap dog. Had he been unkempt, filthy,
and degraded in appearance, she would have catalogued him immediately
as one of those social outcasts, usually half demented, who are
occasionally found far from the haunts of men, living the life of wild
beasts, whose high standards of decency and cleanliness they uniformly
fail to observe. But this creature had suggested more the trained
athlete in whom cleanliness was a fetich, nor did his well-shaped head
and intelligent eyes even remotely suggest mental or moral degradation.
And as she pondered him, the man returned, bearing a great load of
straight branches, from which the twigs and leaves had been removed.
With a celerity and adeptness that bespoke long years of practice, he
constructed a shelter upon the bank of the rivulet. He gathered broad
leaves to thatch its roof, and leafy branches to enclose it upon three
sides, so that it formed a protection against the prevailing winds. He
floored it with leaves and small twigs and dry grasses. Then he came
and, lifting the girl in his arms, bore her to the rustic bower he had
fabricated.
Once again he left her; and when he returned he brought a little fruit,
which he fed to her sparingly, for he guessed that she had been long
without food and knew that he must not overtax her stomach.
Always he worked in silence; and though no word had passed between
them, Zora Drinov felt growing within her consciousness a conviction of
his trustworthiness.
The next time that he left her he was gone a considerable time, but
still the elephant stood in the clearing, like some titanic sentinel
upon guard.
When next the man returned, he brought the carcass of a deer; and
then Zora saw him make fire, after the manner of primitive men. As
the meat roasted above it, the fragrant aroma came to her nostrils,
bringing consciousness of a ravening hunger. When the meat was cooked,
the man came and squatted beside her, cutting small pieces with his
keen hunting knife and feeding her as though she had been a helpless
baby. He gave her only a little at a time, making her rest often; and
while she ate he spoke for the first time, but not to her, nor in any
language that she had ever heard. He spoke to the great elephant, and
the huge pachyderm wheeled slowly about and entered the jungle, where
she could hear the diminishing noise of his passage until it was lost
in the distance. Before the meal was over, it was quite dark; and
she finished it in the fitful light of the fire that shone redly on
the bronzed skin of her companion and shot back from mysterious gray
eyes that gave the impression of seeing everything, even her inmost
thoughts. Then he brought her a drink of water, after which he squatted
down outside her shelter and proceeded to satisfy his own hunger.
Gradually the girl had been lulled to a feeling of security by
the seeming solicitude of her strange protector. But now distinct
misgivings assailed her, and suddenly she felt a strange new fear of
the silent giant in whose power she was; for when he ate she saw that
he ate his meat raw, tearing the flesh like a wild beast. When there
came the sound of something moving in the jungle just beyond the fire
light and he raised his head and looked and there came a low and
savage growl of warning from his lips, the girl closed her eyes and
buried her face in her arms in sudden terror and revulsion. From the
darkness of the jungle there came an answering growl; but the sound
moved on, and presently all was silent again.
It seemed a long time before Zora dared open her eyes again, and when
she did she saw that the man had finished his meal and was stretched
out on the grass between her and the fire. She was afraid of him, of
that she was quite certain; yet, at the same time, she could not deny
that his presence there imparted to her a feeling of safety that she
had never before felt in the jungle. As she tried to fathom this, she
dozed and presently was asleep.
The young sun was already bringing renewed warmth to the jungle when
she awoke. The man had replenished the fire and was sitting before it,
grilling small fragments of meat. Beside him were some fruits, which
he must have gathered since he had awakened. As she watched him, she
was still further impressed by his great physical beauty, as well as
by a certain marked nobility of bearing that harmonized well with the
dignity of his poise and the intelligence of his keen gray eyes. She
wished that she had not seen him devour his meat like a--ah, that was
it--like a lion. How much like a lion he was, in his strength, and
dignity, and majesty, and with all the quiet suggestion of ferocity
that pervaded his every act. And so it was that she came to think of
him as her lion-man and, while trying to trust him, always fearing him
not a little.
Again he fed her and brought her water before he satisfied his own
hunger; but before he started to eat, he arose and voiced a long,
low call. Then once more he squatted upon his haunches and devoured
his food. Although he held it in his strong, brown hands and ate the
flesh raw, she saw now that he ate slowly and with the same quiet
dignity that marked his every act, so that presently she found him less
revolting. Once again she tried to talk with him, addressing him in
various languages and several African dialects, but as for any sign he
gave that he understood her she might as well have been addressing a
dumb brute. Doubtless her disappointment would have been replaced by
anger could she have known that she was addressing an English lord, who
understood perfectly every word that she uttered, but who, for reasons
which he himself best knew, preferred to remain the dumb brute to this
woman whom he looked upon as an enemy.
However, it was well for Zora Drinov that he was what he was, for
it was the prompting of the English lord and not that of the savage
carnivore that had moved him to succor her because she was alone, and
helpless, and a woman. The beast in Tarzan would not have attacked her,
but would merely have ignored her, letting the law of the jungle take
its course as it must with all her creatures.
Shortly after Tarzan had finished his meal, a crashing in the jungle
announced the return of Tantor; and when he appeared in the little
clearing, the girl realized that the great brute had come in response
to the call of the man, and marvelled.
And so the days wore on; and slowly Zora Drinov regained her strength,
guarded by night by the silent forest god and by day by the great bull
elephant. Her only apprehension now was for the safety of Wayne Colt,
who was seldom from her thoughts. Nor was her apprehension groundless,
for the young American had fallen upon bad days.
Almost frantic with concern for the safety of Zora, he had exhausted
his strength in futile search for her and her abductor, forgetful of
himself until hunger and fatigue had taken their toll of his strength.
He had awakened at last to the realization that his condition was
dangerous; and now when he needed food most, the game that he had
formerly found reasonably plentiful seemed to have deserted the
country. Even the smaller rodents that had once sufficed to keep him
alive were either too wary for him or not present at all. Occasionally
he found fruits that he could eat, but they seemed to impart little or
no strength to him; and at last he was forced to the conviction that he
had reached the end of his endurance and his strength and that nothing
short of a miracle could preserve him from death. He was so weak that
he could stagger only a few steps at a time and then, sinking to the
ground, was forced to lie there for a long time before he could arise
again; and always there was the knowledge that eventually he would not
arise.
Yet he would not give up. Something more than the urge to live drove
him on. He could not die, he must not die while Zora Drinov was in
danger. He had found a well beaten trail at last where he was sure that
sooner or later he must meet a native hunter, or, perhaps, find his way
to the camp of his fellows. He could only crawl now, for he had not the
strength to rise; and then suddenly the moment came that he had striven
so long to avert--the moment that marked the end, though it came in a
form that he had only vaguely anticipated as one of several that might
ring the curtain upon his earthly existence.
As he lay in the trail resting before he dragged himself on again, he
was suddenly conscious that he was not alone. He had heard no sounds,
for doubtless his hearing had been dulled by exhaustion; but he was
aware through the medium of that strange sense, the possession of which
each of us has felt at some time in his existence that told him eyes
were upon him.
With an effort he raised his head and looked, and there, before him in
the trail, stood a great lion, his lips drawn back in an angry snarl,
his yellow-green eyes glaring balefully.
XIV
SHOT DOWN
Tarzan went almost daily to watch the camp of his enemy, moving swiftly
through the jungle by trails unknown to man. He saw that preparations
for the first bold stroke were almost completed, and finally he saw
uniforms being issued to all members of the party--uniforms which he
recognized as those of French Colonial Troops--and he realized that the
time had come when he must move. He hoped that little Nkima had carried
his message safely, but if not, Tarzan would find some other way.
Zora Drinov's strength was slowly returning. Today she had arisen and
taken a few steps out into the sunlit clearing. The great elephant
regarded her. She had long since ceased to fear him, as she had ceased
to fear the strange white man who had befriended her. Slowly the girl
approached the great bull, and Tantor regarded her out of his little
eyes as he waved his trunk to and fro.
He had been so docile and harmless all the days that he had guarded her
that it had grown to be difficult for Zora to conceive him capable of
inflicting injury upon her. But as she looked into his little eyes now,
there was an expression there that brought her to a sudden halt; and
as she realized that after all he was only a wild bull elephant, she
suddenly appreciated the rashness of her act. She was already so close
to him that she could have reached out and touched him, as had been her
intention, having thought that she would thus make friends with him.
It was in her mind to fall back with dignity, when the waving trunk
shot suddenly out and encircled her body. Zora Drinov did not scream.
She only closed her eyes and waited. She felt herself lifted from the
ground, and a moment later the elephant had crossed the little clearing
and deposited her in her shelter. Then he backed off slowly and resumed
his post of duty.
He had not hurt her. A mother could not have lifted her baby more
gently, but he had impressed upon Zora Drinov that she was a prisoner
and that he was her keeper. As a matter of fact, Tantor was only
carrying out Tarzan's instructions, which had nothing to do with the
forcible restraint of the girl, but were only a measure of precaution
to prevent her wandering into the jungle where other dangers might
overtake her.
Zora had not fully regained her strength, and the experience left her
trembling. Though she now realized that her sudden fears for her safety
had been groundless, she decided that she would take no more liberties
with her mighty warden.
It was not long after, that Tarzan returned, much earlier in the day
than was his custom. He spoke only to Tantor; and the great beast,
touching him almost caressingly with his trunk, turned and lumbered off
into the forest. Then Tarzan advanced to where Zora sat in the opening
of her shelter. Lightly he lifted her from the ground and tossed her to
his shoulder; and then, to her infinite surprise at the strength and
agility of the man, he swung into a tree and was off through the jungle
in the wake of the pachyderm.
At the edge of the river that they had crossed before, Tantor was
awaiting them, and once more he carried Zora and Tarzan safely to the
other bank.
Tarzan himself had crossed the river twice a day since he had made the
camp for Zora; but when he went alone he needed no help from Tantor
or any other, for he swam the swift stream, his eye alert and his
keen knife ready should Gimla, the crocodile, attack him. But for the
crossing of the woman, he had enlisted the services of Tantor that she
might not be subjected to the danger and hardship of the only other
means of crossing that was possible.
As Tantor clambered up the muddy bank, Tarzan dismissed him with a
word, as with the girl in his arms he leaped into a nearby tree.
That flight through the jungle was an experience that might long stand
vividly in the memory of Zora Drinov. That a human being could possess
the strength and agility of the creature that carried her seemed
unbelievable, and she might easily have attributed a supernatural
origin to him had she not felt the life in the warm flesh that was
pressed against hers. Leaping from branch to branch, swinging across
breathless voids, she was borne swiftly through the middle terrace of
the forest. At first she had been terrified, but gradually fear left
her, to be replaced by that utter confidence which Tarzan of the Apes
has inspired in many a breast. At last he stopped and, lowering her to
the branch upon which he stood, pointed through the surrounding foliage
ahead of them. Zora looked and to her astonishment saw the camp of her
companions lying ahead and below her. Once more the ape-man took her in
his arms and dropped lightly to the ground into a wide trail that swept
past the base of the tree in which he had halted. With a wave of his
hand he indicated that she was free to go to the camp.
"Oh, how can I thank you!" exclaimed the girl. "How can I ever make you
understand how splendid you have been and how I appreciate all that you
have done for me?" But his only reply was to turn and swing lightly
into the tree that spread its green foliage above them.
With a rueful shake of her head, Zora Drinov started along the trail
toward camp, while above her Tarzan followed through the trees to make
certain that she arrived in safety.
Paul Ivitch had been hunting, and he was just returning to camp when
he saw something move in a tree at the edge of the clearing. He saw
the spots of a leopard, and raising his rifle, he fired; so that at
the moment that Zora entered the camp, the body of Tarzan of the Apes
lunged from a tree almost at her side, blood trickling from a bullet
wound in his head as the sunshine played upon the leopard spots of his
loin cloth.
* * * * *
The sight of the lion growling above him might have shaken the nerves
of a man in better physical condition than was Wayne Colt, but the
vision of a beautiful girl running quickly toward the savage beast from
the rear was the final stroke that almost overwhelmed him.
Through his brain ran a medley of recollection and conjecture. In a
brief instant he recalled that men had borne witness to the fact that
they had felt no pain while being mauled by a lion--neither pain nor
fear--and he also recalled that men went mad from thirst and hunger. If
he were to die, then, it would not be painful, and of that he was glad;
but if he were not to die, then surely he was mad, for the lion and the
girl must be the hallucination of a crazed mind.
Fascination held his eyes fixed upon the two. How real they were! He
heard the girl speak to the lion, and then he saw her brush past the
great savage beast and come and bend over him where he lay helpless in
the trail. She touched him, and then he knew that she was real.
"Who are you?" she asked, in limping English that was beautiful with a
strange accent. "What has happened to you?"
"I have been lost," he said, "and I am about done up. I have not eaten
for a long while," and then he fainted.
Jad-bal-ja, the golden lion, had conceived a strange affection for
La of Opar. Perhaps it was the call of one kindred savage spirit to
another. Perhaps it was merely the recollection that she was Tarzan's
friend. But be that as it may, he seemed to find the same pleasure in
her company that a faithful dog finds in the company of his master. He
had protected her with fierce loyalty, and when he made his kill he
shared the flesh with her. She, however, after cutting off a portion
that she wanted, had always gone away a little distance to build her
primitive fire and cook the flesh; nor ever had she ventured back to
the kill after Jad-bal-ja had commenced to feed, for a lion is yet a
lion, and the grim and ferocious growls that accompanied his feeding
warned the girl against presuming too far upon the new found generosity
of the carnivore.
They had been feeding, when the approach of Colt had attracted Numa's
attention and brought him into the trail from his kill. For a moment La
had feared that she might not be able to keep the lion from the man,
and she had wanted to do so; for something in the stranger's appearance
reminded her of Tarzan, whom he more nearly resembled than he did
the grotesque priests of Opar. Because of this fact she thought that
possibly the stranger might be from Tarzan's country. Perhaps he was
one of Tarzan's friends and if so, she must protect him. To her relief,
the lion had obeyed her when she had called upon him to halt, and now
he evinced no further desire to attack the man.
When Colt regained consciousness, La tried to raise him to his feet;
and, with considerable difficulty and some slight assistance from the
man, she succeeded in doing so. She put one of his arms across her
shoulders and, supporting him thus, guided him back along the trail,
while Jad-bal-ja followed at their heels. She had difficulty in getting
him through the brush to the hidden glen where Jad-bal-ja's kill lay
and her little fire was burning a short distance away. But at last she
succeeded and when they had come close to her fire, she lowered the man
to the ground, while Jad-bal-ja turned once more to his feeding and his
growling.
La fed the man tiny pieces of the meat that she had cooked, and he ate
ravenously all that she would give him. A short distance away ran the
river, where La and the lion would have gone to drink after they had
fed; but doubting whether she could get the man so great a distance
through the jungle, she left him there with the lion and went down to
the river; but first she told Jad-bal-ja to guard him, speaking in
the language of the first men, the language of the Mangani, that all
creatures of the jungle understand to a greater or lesser extent. Near
the river La found what she sought--a fruit with a hard rind. With her
knife she cut an end from one of these fruits and scooped out the
pulpy interior, producing a primitive but entirely practical cup, which
she filled with water from the river.
The water, as much as the food, refreshed and strengthened Colt;
and though he lay but a few yards from a feeding lion, it seemed an
eternity since he had experienced such a feeling of contentment and
security, clouded only by his anxiety concerning Zora.
"You feel stronger now?" asked La, her voice tinged with concern.
"Very much," he replied.
"Then tell me who you are and if this is your country."
"This is not my country," replied Colt. "I am an American. My name is
Wayne Colt."
"You are perhaps a friend of Tarzan of the Apes?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No," he said. "I have heard of him, but I do not
know him."
La frowned. "You are his enemy, then?" she demanded.
"Of course not," replied Colt. "I do not even know him."
A sudden light flashed in La's eyes. "Do you know Zora?" she asked.
Colt came to his elbow with a sudden start. "Zora Drinov?" he demanded.
"What do you know of her?"
"She is my friend," said La.
"She is my friend also," said Colt.
"She is in trouble," said La.
"Yes, I know it; but how did you know?"
"I was with her when she was taken prisoner by the men of the desert.
They took me also, but I escaped."
"How long ago was that?"
"The Flaming God has gone to rest many times since I saw Zora," replied
the girl.
"Then I have seen her since."
"Where is she?"
"I do not know. She was with the Aarabs when I found her. We escaped
from them; and then, while I was hunting in the jungle something came
and carried her away. I do not know whether it was a man or a gorilla;
for though I saw its footprints, I could not be sure. I have been
searching for her for a long time; but I could not find food, and it
has been some time since I have had water; so I lost my strength, and
you found me as I am."
"You shall not want for food nor water now," said La, "for Numa, the
lion, will hunt for us; and if we can find the camp of Zora's friends,
perhaps they will go out and search for her."
"You know where the camp is?" he asked. "Is it near?"
"I do not know where it is. I have been searching for it to lead her
friends after the men of the desert."
Colt had been studying the girl as they talked. He had noted her
strange, barbaric apparel and the staggering beauty of her face and
figure. He knew almost intuitively that she was not of the world that
he knew, and his mind was filled with curiosity concerning her.
"You have not told me who you are," he said.
"I am La of Opar," she replied, "high priestess of the Flaming God."
Opar! Now indeed he knew that she was not of his world. Opar, the city
of mystery, the city of fabulous treasures. Could it be that the same
city that housed the grotesque warriors with whom he and Romero had
fought produced also such beautiful creatures as Nao and La, and only
these? He wondered why he had not connected her with Opar at once, for
now he saw that her stomacher was similar to that of Nao and of the
priestess that he had seen upon the throne in the great chamber of the
ruined temple. Recalling his attempt to enter Opar and loot it of its
treasures, he deemed it expedient to make no mention of any familiarity
with the city of the girl's birth, for he guessed that Opar's women
might be as primitively fierce in their vengeance as he had found Nao
in her love.
The lion, and the girl, and the man lay up that night beside
Jad-bal-ja's kill, and in the morning Colt found that his strength had
partially returned. During the night Numa had finished his kill; and
after the sun had risen, La found fruits which she and Colt ate, while
the lion strolled to the river to drink, pausing once to roar, that the
world might know the king was there.
"Numa will not kill again until tomorrow," she said, "so we shall have
no meat until then, unless we are fortunate enough to kill something
ourselves."
Colt had long since abandoned the heavy rifle of the Aarabs, to the
burden of which his growing weakness had left his muscles inadequate;
so he had nothing but his bare hands and La only a knife with which
they might make a kill.
"Then I guess we shall eat fruit until the lion kills again," he said.
"In the meantime we might as well be trying to find the camp."
She shook her head. "No," she said, "you must rest. You were very weak
when I found you, and it is not well that you should exert yourself
until you are strong again. Numa will sleep all day. You and I will
cut some sticks and lie beside a little trail, where the small things
go. Perhaps we shall have luck; but if we do not, Numa will kill again
tomorrow, and this time I shall take a whole hind quarter."
"I cannot believe that a lion would let you do that," said the man.
"At first I did not understand it myself," said La, "but after awhile
I remembered. It is because I am Tarzan's friend that he does not harm
me."
* * * * *
When Zora Drinov saw her lion-man lying lifeless on the ground, she ran
quickly to him and knelt at his side. She had heard the shot, and now
seeing the blood running from the wound upon his head, she thought that
someone had killed him intentionally and when Ivitch came running out,
his rifle in his hand, she turned upon him like a tigress.
"You have killed him," she cried. "You beast! He was worth more than a
dozen such as you."
The sound of the shot and the crashing of the body to the ground had
brought men running from all parts of the camp; so that Tarzan and the
girl were soon surrounded by a curious and excited throng of blacks,
among whom the remaining whites were pushing their way.
Ivitch was stunned, not only by the sight of the giant white man lying
apparently dead before him, but also by the presence of Zora Drinov,
whom all within the camp had given up as irretrievably lost. "I had no
idea, Comrade Drinov," he explained, "that I was shooting at a man. I
see now what caused my mistake. I saw something moving in a tree and
thought that it was a leopard, but instead it was the leopard skin that
he wears about his loins."
By this time Zveri had elbowed his way to the center of the group.
"Zora!" he cried in astonishment as he saw the girl. "Where did you
come from? What has happened? What is the meaning of this?"
"It means that this fool, Ivitch, has killed the man who saved my
life," cried Zora.
"Who is he?" asked Zveri.
"I do not know," replied Zora. "He has never spoken to me. He does not
seem to understand any language with which I am familiar."
"He is not dead," cried Ivitch. "See, he moved."
Romero knelt and examined the wound in Tarzan's head. "He is only
stunned," he said. "The bullet struck him a glancing blow. There are
no indications of a fracture of the skull. I have seen men hit thus
before. He may be unconscious for a long time, or he may not, but I am
sure that he will not die."
"Who the devil do you suppose he is?" asked Zveri.
Zora shook her head. "I have no idea," she said. "I only know that he
is as splendid as he is mysterious."
"I know who he is," said a black, who had pushed forward to where he
could see the figure of the prostrate man, "and if he is not already
dead, you had better kill him, for he will be your worst enemy."
"What do you mean?" demanded Zveri. "Who is he?"
"He is Tarzan of the Apes."
"You are certain?" snapped Zveri.
"Yes, Bwana," replied the black. "I saw him once before, and one never
forgets Tarzan of the Apes."
"Yours was a lucky shot, Ivitch," said the leader, "and now you may as
well finish what you started."
"Kill him, you mean?" demanded Ivitch.
"Our cause is lost and our lives with it, if he lives," replied Zveri.
"I thought that he was dead, or I should never have come here; and now
that Fate has thrown him into our hands we would be fools to let him
escape, for we could not have a worse enemy than he."
"I cannot kill him in cold blood," said Ivitch.
"You always were a weak minded fool," said Zveri, "but I am not. Stand
aside, Zora," and as he spoke he drew his revolver and advanced toward
Tarzan.
The girl threw herself across the ape-man, shielding his body with
hers. "You cannot kill him," she cried. "You must not."
"Don't be a fool, Zora," snapped Zveri.
"He saved my life and brought me back here to camp. Do you think I am
going to let you murder him?" she demanded.
"I am afraid you can't help yourself, Zora," replied the man. "I do not
like to do it, but it is his life or the cause. If he lives, we fail."
The girl leaped to her feet and faced Zveri. "If you kill him, Peter,
I shall kill you--I swear it by everything that I hold most dear. Hold
him prisoner if you will, but as you value your life, do not kill him."
Zveri went pale with anger. "Your words are treason," he said.
"Traitors to the cause have died for less than what you have said."
Zora Drinov realized that the situation was extremely dangerous. She
had little reason to believe that Zveri would make good his threat
toward her, but she saw that if she would save Tarzan she must act
quickly. "Send the others away," she said to Zveri. "I have something
to tell you before you kill this man."
For a moment the leader hesitated. Then he turned to Dorsky, who stood
at his side. "Have the fellow securely bound and taken to one of the
tents," he commanded. "We shall give him a fair trial after he has
regained consciousness and then place him before a firing squad," and
then to the girl, "Come with me, Zora, and I will listen to what you
have to say."
In silence the two walked to Zveri's tent. "Well?" inquired Zveri, as
the girl halted before the entrance. "What have you to say to me that
you think will change my plans relative to your lover?"
Zora looked at him for a long minute, a faint sneer of contempt curling
her lips. "_You_ would think such a thing," she said, "but you are
wrong. However you may think, though, you shall not kill him."
"And why not?" demanded Zveri.
"Because if you do I shall tell them all what your plans are; that you
yourself are a traitor to the cause, and that you have been using them
all to advance your own selfish ambition to make yourself Emperor of
Africa."
"You would not dare," cried Zveri; "nor would I let you; for as much as
I love you, I shall kill you here on the spot, unless you promise not
to interfere in any way with my plans."
"You do not dare kill me," taunted the girl. "You have antagonized
every man in the camp, Peter, and they all like me. Some of them,
perhaps, love me a little. Do you think that I should not be avenged
within five minutes after you had killed me? You will have to think of
something else, my friend; and the best thing that you can do is to
take my advice. Keep Tarzan of the Apes a prisoner if you will, but on
your life do not kill him or permit anyone else to do so."
Zveri sank into a camp chair. "Everyone is against me," he said. "Even
you, the woman I love, turn against me."
"I have not changed toward you in any respect, Peter," said the girl.
"You mean that?" he asked, looking up.
"Absolutely," she replied.
"How long were you alone in the jungle with that man?" he demanded.
"Don't start that, Peter," she said. "He could not have treated me
differently if he had been my own brother; and certainly, all other
considerations aside, you should know me well enough to know that I
have no such weakness in the direction that your tone implied."
"You have never loved me--that is the reason," he declared. "But I
would not trust you or any other woman with a man she loves or with
whom she was temporarily infatuated."
"That," she said, "has nothing to do with what we are discussing. Are
you going to kill Tarzan of the Apes, or are you not?"
"For your sake, I shall let him live," replied the man, "even though I
do not trust you," he added. "I trust no one. How can I? Look at this,"
and he took a code message from his pocket and handed it to her. "This
came a few days ago--the damn traitor. I wish I could get my hands on
him. I should like to have killed him myself, but I suppose I shall
have no such luck, as he is probably already dead."
Zora took the paper. Below the message, in Zveri's scrawling hand, it
had been decoded in Russian script. As she read it, her eyes grew large
with astonishment. "It is incredible," she cried.
"It is the truth, though," said Zveri. "I always suspected the dirty
hound," and he added with an oath, "I think that damn Mexican is just
as bad."
"At least," said Zora, "his plan has been thwarted, for I take it that
his message did not get through."
"No," said Zveri. "By error it was delivered to our agents instead of
his."
"Then no harm has been done."
"Fortunately, no; but it has made me suspicious of everyone, and I am
going to push the expedition through at once before anything further
can occur to interfere with my plans."
"Everything is ready, then?" she asked.
"Everything is ready," he replied. "We march tomorrow morning. And now
tell me what happened while I was at Opar. Why did the Aarabs desert,
and why did you go with them?"
"Abu Batn was angry and resentful because you left him to guard the
camp. The Aarabs felt that it was a reflection upon their courage, and
I think that they would have deserted you anyway, regardless of me.
Then, the day after you left, a strange woman wandered into camp. She
was a very beautiful white woman from Opar; and Abu Batn, conceiving
the idea of profiting through the chance that Fate had sent him, took
us with him with the intention of selling us into captivity on his
return march to his own country."
"Are there no honest men in the world?" demanded Zveri.
"I am afraid not," replied the girl; but as he was staring moodily
at the ground, he did not see the contemptuous curl of her lip that
accompanied her reply.
She described the luring of La from Abu Batn's camp and of the sheykh's
anger at the treachery of Ibn Dammuk; and then she told him of her own
escape, but she did not mention Wayne Colt's connection with it and led
him to believe that she wandered alone in the jungle until the great
ape had captured her. She dwelt at length upon Tarzan's kindness and
consideration and told of the great elephant who had guarded her by day.
"Sounds like a fairy story," said Zveri, "but I have heard enough about
this ape-man to believe almost anything concerning him, which is one
reason why I believe we shall never be safe while he lives."
"He cannot harm us while he is our prisoner; and certainly, if you love
me as you say you do, the man who saved my life deserves better from
you than ignominious death."
"Speak no more of it," said Zveri. "I have already told you that I
would not kill him," but in his treacherous mind he was formulating a
plan whereby Tarzan might be destroyed while still he adhered to the
letter of his promise to Zora.
XV
"KILL, TANTOR, KILL!"
Early the following morning the expedition filed out of camp, the
savage black warriors arrayed in the uniforms of French Colonial
Troops; while Zveri, Romero, Ivitch, and Mori wore the uniforms of
French officers. Zora Drinov accompanied the marching column; for
though she had asked to be permitted to remain and nurse Tarzan, Zveri
would not permit her to do so, saying that he would not again let her
out of his sight. Dorsky and a handful of blacks were left behind to
guard the prisoner and watch over the store of provisions and equipment
that were to be left in the base camp.
As the column had been preparing to march, Zveri gave his final
instructions to Dorsky. "I leave this matter entirely in your hands,"
he said. "It must appear that he escaped, or, at worst, that he met an
accidental death."
"You need give the matter no further thought, Comrade," replied Dorsky.
"Long before you return, this stranger will have been removed."
A long and difficult march lay before the invaders, their route lying
across southeastern Abyssinia into Italian Somaliland, along five
hundred miles of rough and savage country. It was Zveri's intention
to make no more than a demonstration in the Italian colony, merely
sufficient to arouse the anger of the Italians still further against
the French and to give the fascist dictator the excuse which Zveri
believed was all that he awaited to carry his mad dream of Italian
conquest across Europe.
Perhaps Zveri was a little mad, but then he was a disciple of mad men
whose greed for power wrought distorted images in their minds, so that
they could not differentiate between the rational and the bizarre; and
then, too, Zveri had for so long dreamed his dream of empire that he
saw now only his goal and none of the insurmountable obstacles that
beset his path. He saw a new Roman emperor ruling Europe, and himself
as Emperor of Africa making an alliance with this new European power
against all the balance of the world. He pictured two splendid golden
thrones; upon one of them sat the Emperor Peter I, and upon the other
the Empress Zora; and so he dreamed through the long, hard marches
toward the east.
* * * * *
It was the morning of the day following that upon which he had been
shot before Tarzan regained consciousness. He felt weak and sick, and
his head ached horribly. When he tried to move, he discovered that
his wrists and ankles were securely bound. He did not know what had
happened, and at first he could not imagine where he was; but, as
recollection slowly returned and he recognized about him the canvas
walls of a tent, he understood that in some way his enemies had
captured him. He tried to wrench his wrists free from the cords that
held them, but they resisted his every effort.
He listened intently and sniffed the air, but he could detect no
evidence of the teeming camp that he had seen when he had brought the
girl back. He knew, however, that at least one night had passed; for
the shadows that he could see through the tent opening indicated that
the sun was high in the heavens, whereas it had been low in the west
when last he saw it. Hearing voices, he realized that he was not alone,
though he was confident that there must be comparatively few men in
camp.
Deep in the jungle he heard an elephant trumpeting, and once, from far
off, came faintly the roar of a lion. Tarzan strove again to snap the
bonds that held him, but they would not yield. Then he turned his head
so that he faced the opening in the tent, and from his lips burst a
long, low cry; the cry of a beast in distress.
Dorsky, who was lolling in a chair before his own tent, leaped to his
feet. The blacks, who had been talking animatedly, before their own
shelters, went quickly quiet and seized their weapons.
"What was that?" Dorsky demanded of his black boy.
The fellow, wide-eyed and trembling, shook his head. "I do not know,
Bwana," he said. "Perhaps the man in the tent has died, for such a
noise may well have come from the throat of a ghost."
"Nonsense," said Dorsky. "Come, we'll have a look at him." But the
black held back, and the white man went on alone.
The sound, which had come apparently from the tent in which the captive
lay, had had a peculiar effect upon Dorsky, causing the flesh of his
scalp to creep and a strange foreboding to fill him; so that as he
neared the tent, he went more slowly and held his revolver ready in his
hand.
When he entered the tent, he saw the man lying where he had been left;
but now his eyes were open, and when they met those of the Russian, the
latter had a sensation similar to that which one feels when he comes
eye to eye with a wild beast that has been caught in a trap.
"Well," said Dorsky, "so you have come to, have you? What do you want?"
The captive made no reply, but his eyes never left the other's face.
So steady was the unblinking gaze that Dorsky became uneasy beneath
it. "You had better learn to talk," he said gruffly, "if you know what
is good for you." Then it occurred to him that perhaps the man did not
understand him so he turned in the entrance and called to some of the
blacks, who had advanced, half in curiosity, half in fear, toward the
tent of the prisoner. "One of you fellows come here," he said.
At first no one seemed inclined to obey, but presently a stalwart
warrior advanced. "See if this fellow can understand your language.
Come in and tell him that I have a proposition to make to him and that
he had better listen to it."
"If this is indeed Tarzan of the Apes," said the black, "he can
understand me," and he came warily to the entrance of the tent.
The black repeated the message in his own dialect, but by no sign did
the ape-man indicate that he understood.
Dorsky lost his patience. "You damned ape," he said. "You needn't try
to make a fool of me. I know perfectly well that you understand this
fellow's gibberish, and I know, too, that you are an Englishman and
that you understand English. I'll give you just five minutes to think
this thing over, and then I am coming back. If you have not made up
your mind to talk by that time, you can take the consequences." Then he
turned on his heel and left the tent.
* * * * *
Little Nkima had travelled far. Around his neck was a stout thong,
supporting a little bag of leather, in which reposed a message. This
eventually he had brought to Muviro, war chief of the Waziri; and when
the Waziri had started out upon their long march, Nkima had ridden
proudly upon the shoulder of Muviro. For some time he had remained with
the black warriors; but then, at last, moved perhaps by some caprice of
his erratic mind, or by a great urge that he could not resist, he had
left them and, facing alone all the dangers that he feared most, had
set out by himself upon business of his own.
Many and narrow were the escapes of Nkima as he swung through the
giants of the forest. Could he have resisted temptation, he might have
passed with reasonable safety, but that he could not do; and so he was
forever getting himself into trouble by playing pranks upon strangers,
who, if they possessed any sense of humor themselves, most certainly
failed to appreciate little Nkima's. Nkima could not forget that he was
friend and confidant of Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle, though he seemed
often to forget that Tarzan was not there to protect him when he hurled
taunts and insults at other monkeys less favored. That he came through
alive speaks more eloquently for his speed than for his intelligence
or courage. Much of the time he was fleeing in terror, emitting
shrill screams of mental anguish; yet he never seemed to learn from
experience, and having barely eluded one pursuer intent upon murdering
him he would be quite prepared to insult or annoy the next creature he
met, especially selecting, it would seem, those that were larger and
stronger than himself.
Sometimes he fled in one direction, sometimes in another, so that he
occupied much more time than was necessary in making his journey.
Otherwise he would have reached his master in time to be of service to
him at a moment that Tarzan needed a friend as badly, perhaps, as ever
he had needed one before in his life.
And now, while far away in the forest Nkima fled from an old dog
baboon, whom he had hit with a well-aimed stick, Michael Dorsky
approached the tent where Nkima's master lay bound and helpless. The
five minutes were up, and Dorsky had come to demand Tarzan's answer. He
came alone, and as he entered the tent his simple plan of action was
well formulated in his mind.
The expression upon the prisoner's face had changed. He seemed to be
listening intently. Dorsky listened then, too, but could hear nothing;
for by comparison with the hearing of Tarzan of the Apes Michael Dorsky
was deaf. What Tarzan heard filled him with quiet satisfaction.
"Now," said Dorsky, "I have come to give you your last chance. Comrade
Zveri has led two expeditions to Opar in search of the gold that we
know is stored there. Both expeditions failed. It is well known that
you know the location of the treasure vaults of Opar and can lead us
to them. Agree that you will do this when Comrade Zveri returns, and
not only will you not be harmed, but you will be released as quickly
as Comrade Zveri feels that it would be safe to have you at liberty.
Refuse and you die." He drew a long, slender stiletto from its sheath
at his belt. "If you refuse to answer me, I shall accept that as
evidence that you have not accepted my proposition." And as the ape-man
maintained his stony silence, the Russian held the thin blade low
before his eyes. "Think well, ape," he said, "and remember that when
I slip this between your ribs there will be no sound. It will pierce
your heart, and I shall leave it there until the blood has ceased to
flow. Then I shall remove it and close the wound. Later in the day you
will be found dead, and I shall tell the blacks that you died from the
accidental gun-shot. Thus your friends will never learn the truth. You
will not be avenged, and you will have died uselessly." He paused for a
reply, his evil eyes glinting menacing into the cold, grey eyes of the
ape-man.
The dagger was very near Tarzan's face now; and of a sudden, like a
wild beast, he raised his body, and his jaws closed like a steel trap
upon the wrist of the Russian. With a scream of pain, Dorsky drew back.
The dagger dropped from his nerveless fingers. At the same instant
Tarzan swung his legs around the feet of the would-be assassin; and as
Dorsky rolled over on his back, he dragged Tarzan of the Apes on top of
him.
The ape-man knew from the snapping of Dorsky's wrist bones between his
teeth that the man's right hand was useless, and so he released it.
Then to the Russian's horror, the ape-man's jaws sought his jugular as,
from his throat, there rumbled the growl of a savage beast at bay.
Screaming for his men to come to his assistance, Dorsky tried to reach
the revolver at his right hip with his left hand, but he soon saw that
unless he could rid himself of Tarzan's body he would be unable to do
so.
Already he heard his men running toward the tent, shouting among
themselves, and then he heard exclamations of surprise and screams of
terror. The next instant the tent vanished from above them, and Dorsky
saw a huge bull elephant towering above him and his savage antagonist.
Instantly Tarzan ceased his efforts to close his teeth on Dorsky's
throat and at the same time rolled quickly from the body of the
Russian. As he did so, Dorsky's hand found his revolver.
"Kill, Tantor!" shouted the ape-man. "Kill!"
The sinuous trunk of the pachyderm twined around the Russian. The
little eyes of the elephant flamed red with hate, and he trumpeted
shrilly as he raised Dorsky high above his head and, wheeling about,
hurled him out into the camp; while the terrified blacks, casting
affrighted glances over their shoulders, fled into the jungle. Then
Tantor charged his victim. With his great tusks he gored him; and then,
in a frenzy of rage, trumpeting and squealing, he trampled him until
nothing remained of Michael Dorsky but a bloody pulp.
From the moment that Tantor had seized the Russian, Tarzan had sought
ineffectually to stay the great brute's fury, but Tantor was deaf to
commands until he had wreaked his vengeance upon this creature that had
dared to attack his friend. But when his rage had spent its force and
nothing remained against which to vent it, he came quietly to Tarzan's
side and at a word from the ape-man lifted his brown body gently in his
powerful trunk and bore him away into the forest.
Deep into the jungle to a hidden glade, Tantor carried his helpless
friend, and there he placed him gently on soft grasses beneath the
shade of a tree. Little more could the great bull do other than to
stand guard. As a result of the excitement attending the killing of
Dorsky and his concern for Tarzan, Tantor was nervous and irritable.
He stood with upraised ears, alert for any menacing sound, waving his
sensitive trunk to and fro, searching each vagrant air current for the
scent of danger.
The pain of his wound annoyed Tarzan far less than the pangs of thirst.
To little monkeys watching him from the trees he called, "Come, Manu,
and untie the thongs that bind my wrists."
"We are afraid," said an old monkey.
"I am Tarzan of the Apes," said the man reassuringly. "Tarzan has been
your friend always. He will not harm you."
"We are afraid," repeated the old monkey. "Tarzan deserted us. For
many moons the jungle has not known Tarzan; but other Tarmangani and
strange Gomangani came and with thundersticks they hunted little Manu
and killed him. If Tarzan had still been our friend, he would have
driven these strange men away."
"If I had been here, the strange men-things would not have harmed you,"
said Tarzan. "Still would Tarzan have protected you. Now I am back, but
I cannot destroy the strangers or drive them away until the thongs are
taken from my wrists."
"Who put them there?" asked the monkey.
"The strange Tarmangani," replied Tarzan.
"Then they must be more powerful than Tarzan," said Manu, "so what good
would it do to set you free? If the strange Tarmangani found out that
we had done it, they would be angry and come and kill us. Let Tarzan,
who for many rains has been Lord of the Jungle, free himself."
Seeing that it was futile to appeal to Manu, Tarzan, as a forlorn hope,
voiced the long, plaintive, uncanny help call of the great apes. With
slowly increasing crescendo it rose to a piercing shriek that drove far
and wide through the silent jungle.
In all directions, beasts, great and small, paused as the weird note
broke upon their sensitive eardrums. None was afraid, for the call
told them that a great bull was in trouble and, therefore, doubtless
harmless; but the jackals interpreted the sound to mean the possibility
of flesh and trotted off through the jungle in the direction from which
it had come; and Dango, the hyaena, heard and slunk on soft pads,
hoping that he would find a helpless animal that would prove easy prey.
And far away, and faintly, a little monkey heard the call, recognizing
the voice of the caller. Swiftly, then, he flew through the jungle,
impelled as he was upon rare occasions by a directness of thought and a
tenacity of purpose that brooked no interruption.
Tarzan had sent Tantor to the river to fetch water in his trunk. From
a distance he caught the scent of the jackals and the horrid scent
of Dango, and he hoped that Tantor would return before they came
creeping upon him. He felt no fear, only an instinctive urge toward
self-preservation. The jackals he held in contempt, knowing that,
though bound hand and foot, he still could keep the timid creatures
away; but Dango was different, for once the filthy brute realized his
helplessness, Tarzan knew that those powerful jaws would make quick
work of him. He knew the merciless savagery of the beast; knew that in
all the jungle there was none more terrible than Dango.
The jackals came first, standing at the edge of the little glade
watching him. Then they circled slowly, coming nearer; but when he
raised himself to a sitting position they ran yelping away. Three times
they crept closer, trying to force their courage to the point of actual
attack; and then a horrid, slinking form appeared upon the edge of the
glade, and the jackals withdrew to a safe distance. Dango, the hyaena,
had come.
Tarzan was still sitting up, and the beast stood eyeing him, filled
with curiosity and with fear. He growled, and the man-thing facing him
growled back; and then from above them came a great chattering, and
Tarzan, looking up, saw little Nkima dancing upon the limb of a tree
above him.
"Come down, Nkima," he cried, "and untie the thongs that bind my
wrists."
"Dango! Dango!" shouted Nkima. "Little Nkima is afraid of Dango."
"If you come now," said Tarzan, "it will be safe; but if you wait too
long, Dango will kill Tarzan; and then to whom may little Nkima go for
protection?"
"Nkima comes," shouted the little monkey, and dropping quickly through
the trees, he leaped to Tarzan's shoulder.
The hyaena bared his fangs and laughed his horrid laugh. Tarzan spoke.
"Quick, the thongs, Nkima," urged Tarzan; and the little monkey, his
fingers trembling with terror, went to work upon the leather thongs at
Tarzan's wrists.
Dango, his ugly head lowered, made a sudden rush; and from the deep
lungs of the ape-man came a thunderous roar that might have done credit
to Numa himself. With a yelp of terror the cowardly Dango turned
and fled to the extremity of the glade, where he stood bristling and
growling.
"Hurry, Nkima," said Tarzan. "Dango will come again. Maybe once, maybe
twice, maybe many times before he closes on me; but in the end he will
realize that I am helpless, and then he will not stop or turn back."
"Little Nkima's fingers are sick," said the Manu. "They are weak and
they tremble. They will not untie the knot."
"Nkima has sharp teeth," Tarzan reminded him. "Why waste your time with
sick fingers over knots that they cannot untie? Let your sharp teeth do
the work."
Instantly Nkima commenced to gnaw upon the strands. Silent perforce
because his mouth was otherwise occupied, Nkima strove diligently and
without interruption.
Dango, in the meantime, made two short rushes, each time coming a
little closer, but each time turning back before the menace of the
ape-man's roars and savage growls, which by now had aroused the jungle.
Above them, in the tree tops, the monkeys chattered, scolded and
screamed, and in the distance the voice of Numa rolled like far
thunder, while from the river came the squealing and trumpeting of
Tantor.
Little Nkima was gnawing frantically at the bonds, when Dango charged
again, evidently convinced by this time that the great Tarmangani was
helpless, for now, with a growl, he rushed in and closed upon the man.
With a sudden surge of the great muscles of his arms that sent little
Nkima sprawling, Tarzan sought to tear his hands free that he might
defend himself against the savage death that menaced him in those
slavering jaws; and the thongs, almost parted by Nkima's sharp teeth,
gave to the terrific strain of the ape-man's efforts.
As Dango leaped for the bronzed throat, Tarzan's hand shot forward
and seized the beast by the neck, but the impact of the heavy body
carried him backward to the ground. Dango twisted, struggled and clawed
in a vain effort to free himself from the death grip of the ape-man,
but those steel fingers closed relentlessly upon his throat, until,
gasping for breath, the great brute sank helplessly upon the body of
its intended victim.
Until death was assured, Tarzan did not relinquish his grasp; but when
at last there could be no doubt, he hurled the carcass from him and,
sitting up, fell quickly to the thongs that secured his ankles.
During the brief battle, Nkima had taken refuge among the topmost
branches of a lofty tree, where he leaped about, screaming frantically
at the battling beasts beneath him. Not until he was quite sure
that Dango was dead did he descend. Warily he approached the body,
lest, perchance, he had been mistaken; but again convinced by closer
scrutiny, he leaped upon it and struck it viciously, again and again,
and then he stood upon it shrieking his defiance at the world with all
the assurance and bravado of one who has overcome a dangerous enemy.
Tantor, startled by the help cry of his friend, had turned back from
the river without taking water. Trees bent beneath his mad rush as,
ignoring winding trails, he struck straight through the jungle toward
the little glade in answer to the call of the ape-man; and now,
infuriated by the sounds of battle, he came charging into view, a
titanic engine of rage and vengeance.
Tantor's eyesight is none too good, and it seemed that in his mad
charge he must trample the ape-man, who lay directly in his path; but
when Tarzan spoke to him the great beast came to a sudden stop at his
side and, pivoting, wheeled about in his tracks, his ears forward,
his trunk raised, trumpeting a savage warning as he searched for the
creature that had been menacing his friend.
"Quiet, Tantor; it was Dango. He is dead," said the ape-man. As the
eyes of the elephant finally located the carcass of the hyaena he
charged and trampled it, as he had trampled Dorsky, to a bloody pulp;
as Nkima fled, shrieking, to the trees.
His ankles freed of their bonds, Tarzan was upon his feet; and, when
Tantor had vented his rage upon the body of Dango, he called the
elephant to him. Tantor came then quietly to his side and stood with
his trunk touching the ape-man's body, his rage quieted and his nerves
soothed by the reassuring calm of the ape-man.
And now Nkima came, making an agile leap from a swaying bough to the
back of Tantor and then to the shoulder of Tarzan, where, with his
little arms about the ape-man's neck, he pressed his cheek close
against the bronzed cheek of the great Tarmangani, who was his master
and his god.
Thus the three friends stood in the silent communion that only beasts
know, as the shadows lengthened and the sun set behind the forest.
XVI
"TURN BACK!"
The privations that Wayne Colt had endured had weakened him far more
than he had realized, so that before his returning strength could bring
renewed powers of resistance, he was stricken with fever.
The high priestess of the Flaming God, versed in the lore of ancient
Opar, was conversant with the medicinal properties of many roots and
herbs and, as well, with the mystic powers of incantation that drove
demons from the bodies of the sick. By day she gathered and brewed, and
at night she sat at the feet of her patient, intoning weird prayers,
the origin of which reached back through countless ages to vanished
temples, above which now rolled the waters of a mighty sea; and while
she wrought with every artifice at her command to drive out the demon
of sickness that possessed this man of an alien world, Jad-bal-ja, the
golden lion, hunted for all three, and though at times he made his kill
at a distance he never failed to carry the carcass of his prey back to
the hidden lair where the woman nursed the man.
Days of burning fever, days of delirium, shot with periods of
rationality, dragged their slow length. Often Colt's mind was confused
by a jumble of bizarre impressions, in which La might be Zora Drinov
one moment, a ministering angel from heaven the next, and then a Red
Cross nurse; but in whatever guise he found her it seemed always a
pleasant one, and when she was absent, as she was sometimes forced to
be, he was depressed and unhappy.
When, upon her knees at his feet, she prayed to the rising sun, or to
the sun at zenith, or to the setting sun, as was her wont, or when she
chanted strange, weird songs in an unknown tongue, accompanying them
with the mysterious gestures that were a part of the ritual, he was
sure that the fever was worse and that he had become delirious again.
And so the days dragged on, and while Colt lay helpless, Zveri marched
toward Italian Somaliland; and Tarzan, recovered from the shock of
his wound, followed the plain trail of the expedition, and from his
shoulder little Nkima scolded and chattered through the day.
Behind him Tarzan had left a handful of terrified blacks in the camp of
the conspirators. They had been lolling in the shade, following their
breakfast, a week after the killing of Dorsky and the escape of his
captive. Fear of the ape-man at liberty, that had so terrified them at
first, no longer concerned them greatly. Psychologically akin to the
brutes of the forest, they happily soon forgot their terrors; nor did
they harass their minds by anticipating those which might assail them
in the future, as it is the silly custom of civilized man to do.
And so it was this morning that a sight which burst suddenly upon their
astonished eyes found them entirely unprepared. They heard no noise, so
silently go the beasts of the jungle, however large or heavy they may
be; yet suddenly, in the clearing at the edge of the camp, appeared a
great elephant, and upon his head sat the recent captive, whom they had
been told was Tarzan of the Apes, and upon the man's shoulder perched a
little monkey. With exclamations of terror, the blacks leaped to their
feet and dashed into the jungle upon the opposite side of the camp.
Tarzan leaped lightly to the ground and entered Dorsky's tent. He
had returned for a definite purpose; and his effort was crowned with
success, for in the tent of the Russian he found his rope and his
knife, which had been taken away from him at the time of his capture.
For bow and arrows and a spear he had only to look to the shelters of
the blacks; and, having found what he wanted, he departed as silently
as he had come.
Now the time had arrived when Tarzan must set out rapidly upon the
trail of his enemy, leaving Tantor to the peaceful paths that he loved
best.
"I go, Tantor," he said. "Search out the forest where the young trees
have the tenderest bark and watch well against the men-things, for they
alone in all the world are the enemies of all living creatures." He was
off through the forest then, with little Nkima clinging tightly to his
bronzed neck.
Plain lay the winding trail of Zveri's army before the eyes of the
ape-man, but he had no need to follow any trail. Long weeks before,
as he had kept vigil above their camp, he had heard the principals
discussing their plans; and so he knew their objectives, and he knew,
too, how rapidly they could march and, therefore, about where he might
hope to overtake them. Unhampered by files of porters sweating under
heavy loads, earth-bound to no winding trails, Tarzan was able to
travel many times faster than the expedition. He saw their trail only
when his own chanced to cross it as he laid a straight course for a
point far in advance of the sweating column.
When he overtook the expedition night had fallen, and the tired men
were in camp. They had eaten and were happy and many of the men were
singing. To one who did not know the truth it might have appeared
to be a military camp of French Colonial Troops; for there was a
military precision about the arrangement of the fires, the temporary
shelters, and the officer's tents that would not have been undertaken
by a hunting or scientific expedition, and, in addition, there were
the uniformed sentries pacing their beats. All this was the work of
Miguel Romero, to whose superior knowledge of military matters Zveri
had been forced to defer in all matters of this nature, though with no
diminution of the hatred which each felt for the other.
From his tree Tarzan watched the scene below, attempting to estimate as
closely as possible the number of armed men that formed the fighting
force of the expedition, while Nkima, bent upon some mysterious
mission, swung nimbly through the trees toward the east. The ape-man
realized that Zveri had recruited a force that might constitute a
definite menace to the peace of Africa, since among its numbers
were represented many large and warlike tribes, who might easily be
persuaded to follow this mad leader were success to crown his initial
engagement. It was, however, to prevent this very thing that Tarzan of
the Apes had interested himself in the activities of Peter Zveri; and
here, before him, was another opportunity to undermine the Russian's
dream of empire while it was still only a dream and might be dissipated
by trivial means; by the grim and terrible jungle methods of which
Tarzan of the Apes was a past-master.
Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow. Slowly his right hand drew back the
feathered end of the shaft until the point rested almost upon his left
thumb. His manner was marked by easy, effortless grace. He did not
appear to be taking conscious aim; and yet when he released the shaft,
it buried itself in the fleshy part of a sentry's leg precisely as
Tarzan of the Apes had intended that it should.
With a yell of surprise and pain the black collapsed upon the ground,
more frightened, however, than hurt; and as his fellows gathered around
him, Tarzan of the Apes melted away into the shadows of the jungle
night.
Attracted by the cry of the wounded man, Zveri, Romero, and the
other leaders of the expedition hastened from their tents and joined
the throng of excited blacks that surrounded the victim of Tarzan's
campaign of terrorism.
"Who shot you?" demanded Zveri when he saw the arrow protruding from
the sentry's leg.
"I do not know," replied the man.
"Have you an enemy in camp who might want to kill you?" asked Zveri.
"Even if he had," said Romero, "he couldn't have shot him with an arrow
because no bows or arrows were brought with the expedition."
"I hadn't thought of that," said Zveri.
"So it must have been some one outside camp," declared Romero.
With difficulty and to the accompaniment of the screams of their
victim, Ivitch and Romero cut the arrow from the sentry's leg, while
Zveri and Kitembo discussed various conjectures as to the exact portent
of the affair.
"We have evidently run into hostile natives," said Zveri.
Kitembo shrugged non-committally. "Let me see the arrow," he said to
Romero. "Perhaps that will tell us something."
As the Mexican handed the missile to the black chief, the latter
carried it close to a camp fire and examined it closely, while the
white men gathered about him waiting for his findings.
At last Kitembo straightened up. The expression upon his face was
serious, and when he spoke his voice trembled slightly. "This is bad,"
he said, shaking his bullet head.
"What do you mean?" demanded Zveri.
"This arrow bears the mark of a warrior who was left behind in our base
camp," replied the chief.
"That is impossible," cried Zveri.
Kitembo shrugged. "I know it," he said, "but it is true."
"With an arrow out of the air the Hindu was slain," suggested a black
headman, standing near Kitembo.
"Shut up, you fool," snapped Romero, "or you'll have the whole camp in
a blue funk."
"That's right," said Zveri. "We must hush this thing up." He turned to
the headman. "You and Kitembo," he commanded, "must not repeat this to
your men. Let us keep it to ourselves."
Both Kitembo and the headman agreed to guard the secret, but within
half an hour every man in camp knew that the sentry had been shot with
an arrow that had been left behind in the base camp, and immediately
their minds were prepared for other things that lay ahead of them upon
the long trail.
The effect of the incident upon the minds of the black soldiers was
apparent during the following day's march. They were quieter and more
thoughtful, and there was much low voiced conversation among them; but
if they had given signs of nervousness during the day, it was nothing
as compared with their state of mind after darkness fell upon their
camp that night. The sentries evidenced their terror plainly by their
listening attitudes and nervous attention to the sounds that came out
of the blackness surrounding the camp. Most of them were brave men who
would have faced a visible enemy with courage, but to a man they were
convinced that they were confronted by the supernatural, against which
they knew that neither rifle nor bravery might avail. They felt that
ghostly eyes were watching them, and the result was as demoralizing as
would an actual attack have been; in fact, far more so.
Yet they need not have concerned themselves so greatly, as the cause
of all their superstitious apprehension was moving rapidly through the
jungle, miles away from them, and every instant the distance between
him and them was increasing.
Another force, that might have caused them even greater anxiety had
they been aware of it, lay still further away upon the trail that they
must traverse to reach their destination.
Around tiny cooking fires squatted a hundred black warriors, whose
white plumes nodded and trembled as they moved. Sentries guarded them;
sentries who were unafraid, since these men had little fear of ghosts
or demons. They wore their amulets in leather pouches that swung from
cords about their necks and they prayed to strange gods, but deep in
their hearts lay a growing contempt for both. They had learned from
experience and from the advice of a wise leader to look for victory
more to themselves and their weapons than to their god.
They were a cheerful, happy company, veterans of many an expedition
and, like all veterans, took advantage of every opportunity for
rest and relaxation, the value of both of which is enhanced by the
maintenance of a cheerful frame of mind; and so there was much laughing
and joking among them, and often both the cause and butt of this was a
little monkey, now teasing, now caressing, and in return being himself
teased or caressed. That there was a bond of deep affection between
him and these clean-limbed black giants was constantly apparent. When
they pulled his tail they never pulled it very hard, and when he turned
upon them in apparent fury, his sharp teeth closing upon their fingers
or arms, it was noticeable that he never drew blood. Their play was
rough, for they were all rough and primitive creatures; but it was all
playing, and it was based upon a foundation of mutual affection.
These men had just finished their evening meal, when a figure,
materializing as though out of thin air, dropped silently into their
midst from the branches of a tree which overhung their camp.
Instantly a hundred warriors sprang to arms, and then, as quickly, they
relaxed, as with shouts of "Bwana! Bwana!" they ran toward the bronzed
giant standing silently in their midst.
As to an emperor or a god they went upon their knees before him,
and those that were nearest him touched his hands and his feet in
reverence; for to the Waziri Tarzan of the Apes, who was their king,
was yet something more and of their own volition they worshipped him as
their living god.
But if the warriors were glad to see him, little Nkima was frantic with
joy. He scrambled quickly over the bodies of the kneeling blacks and
leaped to Tarzan's shoulder, where he clung about his neck, jabbering
excitedly.
"You have done well, my children," said the ape-man, "and little Nkima
has done well. He bore my message to you, and I find you ready where I
had planned that you should be."
"We have kept always a day's march ahead of the strangers, Bwana,"
replied Muviro, "camping well off the trail that they might not
discover our fresh camp sites and become suspicious."
"They do not suspect your presence," said Tarzan. "I listened above
their camp last night, and they said nothing that would indicate that
they dreamed that another party was preceding them along the trail."
"Where the dirt of the trail was soft a warrior, who marched at the
rear of the column, brushed away the freshness of our spoor with a
leafy bough," explained Muviro.
"Tomorrow we shall wait here for them," said the ape-man, "and tonight
you shall listen to Tarzan while he explains the plans that you will
follow."
As Zveri's column took up the march upon the following morning, after a
night of rest that had passed without incident, the spirits of all had
risen to an appreciable degree. The blacks had not forgotten the grim
warning that had sped out of the night surrounding their previous camp,
but they were of a race whose spirits soon rebound from depression.
The leaders of the expedition were encouraged by the knowledge that
over a third of the distance to their goal had been covered. For
various reasons they were anxious to complete this part of the plan.
Zveri believed that upon its successful conclusion hinged his whole
dream of empire. Ivitch, a natural born trouble-maker, was happy in the
thought that the success of the expedition would cause untold annoyance
to millions of people and perhaps, also, by the dream of his return to
Russia as a hero; perhaps a wealthy hero.
Romero and Mori wanted to have it over for entirely different reasons.
They were thoroughly disgusted with the Russian. They had lost all
confidence in the sincerity of Zveri, who, filled as he was with
his own importance and his delusions of future grandeur, talked too
much, with the result that he had convinced Romero that he and all
his kind were frauds, bent upon accomplishing their selfish ends with
the assistance of their silly dupes and at the expense of the peace
and prosperity of the world. It had not been difficult for Romero to
convince Mori of the truth of his deductions, and now, thoroughly
disillusioned, the two men continued on with the expedition because
they believed that they could not successfully accomplish their
intended desertion until the party was once more settled in the base
camp.
The march had continued uninterruptedly for about an hour after camp
had been broken, when one of Kitembo's black scouts, leading the
column, halted suddenly in his tracks.
"Look!" he said to Kitembo, who was just behind him.
The chief stepped to the warrior's side; and there, before him in the
trail, sticking upright in the earth, was an arrow.
"It is a warning," said the warrior.
Gingerly, Kitembo plucked the arrow from the earth and examined it.
He would have been glad to have kept the knowledge of his discovery
to himself, although not a little shaken by what he had seen; but the
warrior at his side had seen, too. "It is the same," he said. "It is
another of the arrows that were left behind in the base camp."
When Zveri came abreast of them, Kitembo handed him the arrow. "It is
the same," he said to the Russian, "and it is a warning for us to turn
back."
"Pooh!" exclaimed Zveri contemptuously. "It is only an arrow sticking
in the dirt and cannot stop a column of armed men. I did not think that
you were a coward, too, Kitembo."
The black scowled. "Nor do men with safety call me a coward," he
snapped; "but neither am I a fool, and better than you do I know the
danger signals of the forest. We shall go on because we are brave men,
but many will never come back. Also, your plans will fail."
At this Zveri flew into one of his frequent rages; and though the men
continued the march, they were in a sullen mood, and many were the ugly
glances that were cast at Zveri and his lieutenants.
Shortly after noon the expedition halted for the noonday rest. They had
been passing through a dense woods, gloomy and depressing; and there
was neither song nor laughter, nor a great deal of conversation as the
men squatted together in little knots while they devoured the cold food
that constituted their midday meal.
Suddenly, from somewhere far above, a voice floated down to them. Weird
and uncanny, it spoke to them in a Bantu dialect that most of them
could understand. "Turn back, children of Mulungo," it cried. "Turn
back before you die. Desert the white men before it is too late."
That was all. The men crouched fearfully, looking up into the trees. It
was Zveri who broke the silence. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.
"What did it say?"
"It warned us to turn back," said Kitembo.
"There will be no turning back," snapped Zveri.
"I do not know about that," replied Kitembo.
"I thought you wanted to be a king," cried Zveri. "You'd make a hell of
a king."
For the moment Kitembo had forgotten the dazzling prize that Zveri had
held before his eyes for months--to be king of Kenya. That was worth
risking much for.
"We will go on," he said.
"You may have to use force," said Zveri, "but stop at nothing. We
must go on, no matter what happens," and then he turned to his other
lieutenants. "Romero, you and Mori go to the rear of the column and
shoot every man who refuses to advance."
The men had not as yet refused to go on, and when the order to march
was given, they sullenly took their places in the column. For an hour
they marched thus; and then, far ahead, came the weird cry that many of
them had heard before at Opar, and a few minutes later a voice out of
the distance called to them. "Desert the white men," it said.
The blacks whispered among themselves, and it was evident that trouble
was brewing; but Kitembo managed to persuade them to continue the
march, a thing that Zveri never could have accomplished.
"I wish we could get that trouble-maker," said Zveri to Zora Drinov, as
the two walked together near the head of the column. "If he would only
show himself once, so that we could get a shot at him; that's all I
want."
"It is some one familiar with the workings of the native mind,"
said the girl. "Probably a medicine man of some tribe through whose
territory we are marching."
"I hope that it is nothing more than that," replied Zveri. "I have no
doubt that the man is a native, but I am afraid that he is acting on
instructions from either the British or the Italians, who hope thus to
disorganize and delay us until they can mobilize a force with which to
attack us."
"It has certainly shaken the morale of the men," said Zora, "for I
believe that they attribute all of the weird happenings, from the
mysterious death of Jafar to the present time, to the same agency, to
which their superstitious minds naturally attribute a supernatural
origin."
"So much the worse for them then," said Zveri, "for they are going
on whether they wish to or not; and when they find that attempted
desertion means death, they will wake up to the fact that it is not
safe to trifle with Peter Zveri."
"They are many, Peter," the girl reminded him, "and we are few; in
addition they are, thanks to you, well armed. It seems to me that you
may have created a Frankenstein that will destroy us all in the end."
"You are as bad as the blacks," growled Zveri, "making a mountain out
of a mole hill. Why if--"
Behind the rear of the column and again apparently from the air above
them sounded the warning voice. "Desert the whites." Silence fell again
upon the marching column, but the men moved on, exhorted by Kitembo and
threatened by the revolvers of their white officers.
Presently the forest broke at the edge of a small plain, across which
the trail led through buffalo grass that grew high above the heads of
the marching men. They were well into this when, ahead of them, a rifle
spoke, and then another and another, seemingly in a long line across
their front.
Zveri ordered one of the blacks to rush Zora to the rear of the
column into a position of safety, while he followed close behind her,
ostensibly searching for Romero and shouting words of encouragement to
the men.
As yet no one had been hit; but the column had stopped, and the men
were rapidly losing all semblance of formation.
"Quick, Romero," shouted Zveri, "take command up in front. I will
cover the rear with Mori and prevent desertions."
The Mexican sprang past him and with the aid of Ivitch and some of the
black chiefs he deployed one company in a long skirmish line, with
which he advanced slowly; while Kitembo followed with half the rest of
the expedition acting as a support, leaving Ivitch, Mori, and Zveri to
organize a reserve from the remainder.
After the first widely scattered shots, the firing had ceased, to be
followed by a silence even more ominous to the overwrought nerves
of the black soldiers. The utter silence of the enemy, the lack of
any sign of movement in the grasses ahead of them, coupled with the
mysterious warnings which still rang in their ears, convinced the
blacks that they faced no mortal foe.
"Turn back!" came mournfully from the grasses ahead. "This is the last
warning. Death will follow disobedience."
The line wavered, and to steady it Romero gave the command to fire. In
response came a rattle of musketry out of the grasses ahead of them,
and this time a dozen men went down, killed or wounded.
"Charge!" cried Romero, but instead the men wheeled about and broke for
the rear and safety.
At sight of the advance line bearing down upon them, throwing away
their rifles as they ran, the support turned and fled, carrying the
reserve with it, and the whites were carried along in the mad rout.
In disgust, Romero fell back alone. He saw no enemy, for none pursued
him, and this fact induced within him an uneasiness that the singing
bullets had been unable to arouse. As he plodded on alone far in the
rear of his companions, he began to share to some extent the feeling of
unreasoning terror that had seized his black companions, or at least,
if not to share it, to sympathize with them. It is one thing to face
a foe that you can see, and quite another to be beset by an invisible
enemy, of whose very appearance, even, one is ignorant.
Shortly after Romero reentered the forest, he saw some one walking
along the trail ahead of him; and presently, when he had an
unobstructed view, he saw that it was Zora Drinov.
He called to her then, and she turned and waited for him.
"I was afraid that you had been killed, Comrade," she said.
"I was born under a lucky star," he replied smiling. "Men were shot
down on either side of me and behind me. Where is Zveri?"
Zora shrugged. "I do not know," she answered.
"Perhaps he is trying to reorganize the reserve," suggested Romero.
"Doubtless," said the girl shortly.
"I hope he is fleet of foot then," said the Mexican, lightly.
"Evidently he is," replied Zora.
"You should not have been left alone like this," said the man.
"I can take care of myself," replied Zora.
"Perhaps," he said, "but if you belonged to me--"
"I belong to no one, Comrade Romero," she replied icily.
"Forgive me, Señorita," he said. "I know that. I merely chose an
unfortunate way of trying to say that if the girl I loved were here
she would not have been left alone in the forest, especially when I
believe, as Zveri must believe, that we are being pursued by an enemy."
"You do not like Comrade Zveri, do you, Romero?"
"Even to you, Señorita," he replied, "I must admit, since you ask me, I
do not."
"I know that he has antagonized many."
"He has antagonized all--except you, Señorita."
"Why should I be excepted?" she asked. "How do you know that he has not
antagonized me also?"
"Not deeply, I am sure," he said, "or else you would not have consented
to become his wife."
"And how do you know that I have?" she asked.
"Comrade Zveri boasts of it often," replied Romero.
"Oh, he does?" nor did she make any other comment.
XVII
A GULF THAT WAS BRIDGED
The general rout of Zveri's forces ended only when their last camp
had been reached and even then only for part of the command, for as
night fell it was discovered that fully twenty-five percent of the men
were missing, and among the absentees were Zora and Romero. As the
stragglers came in, Zveri questioned each about the girl, but no one
had seen her. He tried to organize an expedition to go back in search
of her, but no one would accompany him. He threatened and pleaded, only
to discover that he had lost all control of his men. Perhaps he would
have gone back alone, as he insisted that he intended doing; but he was
relieved of this necessity when, well after dark, the two walked into
camp together.
At sight of them Zveri was both relieved and angry. "Why didn't you
remain with me?" he snapped at Zora.
"Because I cannot run so fast as you," she replied, and Zveri said no
more.
From the darkness of the trees above the camp came the now familiar
warning. "Desert the whites!" A long silence followed this, broken only
by the nervous whisperings of the blacks, and then the voice spoke
again. "The trails to your own countries are free from danger, but
death walks always with the white men. Throw away your uniforms and
leave the white men to the jungle and to me."
A black warrior leaped to his feet and stripped the French uniform
from his body, throwing it upon a cooking fire that burned near him.
Instantly others followed his example.
"Stop that!" cried Zveri.
"Silence, white man!" growled Kitembo.
"Kill the whites!" shouted a naked Basembo warrior.
Instantly there was a rush toward the whites, who were gathered near
Zveri, and then from above them came a warning cry. "The whites are
mine!" it cried. "Leave them to me."
For an instant the advancing warriors halted; and then he, who had
constituted himself their leader, maddened perhaps by his hatred and
his blood lust, advanced again grasping his rifle menacingly.
From above a bow string twanged. The black, dropping his rifle,
screamed as he tore at an arrow protruding from his chest; and, as
he fell forward upon his face, the other blacks fell back, and the
whites were left alone, while the negroes huddled by themselves in a
far corner of the camp. Many of them would have deserted that night,
but they feared the darkness of the jungle and the menace of the thing
hovering above them.
Zveri strode angrily to and fro, cursing his luck, cursing the
blacks, cursing every one. "If I had had any help, if I had had any
cooperation," he grumbled, "this would not have happened, but I cannot
do everything alone."
"You have done this pretty much alone," said Romero.
"What do you mean?" demanded Zveri.
"I mean that you have made such an overbearing ass of yourself that you
have antagonized every one in the expedition, but even so they might
have carried on if they had had any confidence in your courage--no man
likes to follow a coward."
"You call me that, you yellow greaser," shouted Zveri, reaching for his
revolver.
"Cut that," snapped Romero. "I have you covered. And let me tell you
now that if it weren't for Señorita Drinov I would kill you on the spot
and rid the world of at least one crazy mad dog that is threatening
the entire world with the hydrophobia of hate and suspicion. Señorita
Drinov saved my life once. I have not forgotten that; and because,
perhaps, he loves you, you are safe, unless I am forced to kill you in
self-defense."
"This is utter insanity," cried Zora. "There are five of us here alone
with a band of unruly blacks who fear and hate us. Tomorrow, doubtless,
we shall be deserted by them. If we hope ever to get out of Africa
alive, we must stick together. Forget your quarrels, both of you, and
let us work together in harmony hereafter for our mutual salvation."
"For your sake, Señorita, yes," said Romero.
"Comrade Drinov is right," said Ivitch.
Zveri dropped his hand from his gun and turned sulkily away; and
for the rest of the night peace, if not happiness, held sway in the
disorganized camp of the conspirators.
When morning came the whites saw that the blacks had all discarded
their French uniforms, and from the concealing foliage of a nearby
tree other eyes had noted this same fact--gray eyes that were touched
by the shadow of a grim smile. There were no black boys now to serve
the whites, as even their personal servants had deserted them to
fore-gather with the men of their own blood, and so the five prepared
their own breakfast, after Zveri's attempt to command the services of
some of their boys had met with surly refusal.
While they were eating, Kitembo approached them, accompanied by the
headmen of the different tribes that were represented in the personnel
of the expedition. "We are leaving with our people for our own
countries," said the Basembo chief. "We leave food for your journey
to your own camp. Many of our warriors wish to kill you, and that
we cannot prevent if you attempt to accompany us, for they fear the
vengeance of the ghosts that have followed you for many moons. Remain
here until tomorrow. After that you are free to go where you will."
"But," expostulated Zveri, "you can't leave us like this without
porters or askaris."
"No longer can you tell us what we can do, white man," said Kitembo,
"for you are few and we are many, and your power over us is broken. In
everything you have failed. We do not follow such a leader."
"You can't do it," growled Zveri. "You will all be punished for this,
Kitembo."
"Who will punish us?" demanded the black. "The English? The French? The
Italians? You do not dare go to them. They would punish you, not us.
Perhaps you will go to Ras Tafari. He would have your heart cut out and
your body thrown to the dogs, if he knew what you were planning."
"But you can't leave this white woman alone here in the jungle without
servants, or porters, or adequate protection," insisted Zveri,
realizing that his first argument had made no impression upon the black
chief, who now held their fate in his hands.
"I do not intend to leave the white woman," said Kitembo. "She is going
with me," and then it was that, for the first time, the whites realized
that the headmen had surrounded them and that they were covered by many
rifles.
As he had talked, Kitembo had come closer to Zveri, at whose side stood
Zora Drinov, and now the black chief reached out quickly and grasped
her by the wrist. "Come!" he said, and as he uttered the word something
hummed above their heads, and Kitembo, chief of the Basembos, clutched
at an arrow in his chest.
"Do not look up," cried a voice from above. "Keep your eyes upon the
ground, for whosoever looks up dies. Listen well to what I have to say,
black men. Go your way to your own countries, leaving behind you all of
the white people. Do not harm them. They belong to me. I have spoken."
Wide-eyed and trembling, the black headmen fell back from the whites,
leaving Kitembo writhing upon the ground. They hastened to cross the
camp to their fellows, all of whom were now thoroughly terrified;
and before the chief of the Basembos ceased his death struggle, the
black tribesmen had seized the loads which they had previously divided
amongst them and were pushing and elbowing for precedence along the
game trail that led out of camp toward the west.
Watching them depart, the whites sat in stupefied silence, which was
not broken until after the last black had gone and they were alone.
"What do you suppose that thing meant by saying we belong to him?"
asked Ivitch in a slightly thickened voice.
"How could I know?" growled Zveri.
"Perhaps it is a man-eating ghost," suggested Romero with a smile.
"It has done about all the harm it can do now," said Zveri. "It ought
to leave us alone for awhile."
"It is not such a malign spirit," said Zora. "It can't be, for it
certainly saved me from Kitembo."
"Saved you for itself," said Ivitch.
"Nonsense!" said Romero. "The purpose of that mysterious voice from
the air is just as obvious as is the fact that it is the voice of a
man. It is the voice of some one who wanted to defeat the purposes
of this expedition, and I imagine Zveri guessed close to the truth
yesterday when he attributed it to English or Italian sources that were
endeavoring to delay us until they could mobilize a sufficient force
against us."
"Which proves," declared Zveri, "what I have suspected for a long time;
that there is more than one traitor among us," and he looked meaningly
at Romero.
"What it means," said Romero, "is that crazy, hare-brained theories
always fail when they are put to the test. You thought that all
the blacks in Africa would rush to your standard and drive all the
foreigners into the ocean. In theory, perhaps, you were right, but in
practice one man, with a knowledge of native psychology which you did
not have, burst your entire dream like a bubble, and for every other
hare-brained theory in the world there is always a stumbling block of
fact."
"You talk like a traitor to the cause," said Ivitch threateningly.
"And what are you going to do about it?" demanded the Mexican. "I am
fed up with all of you and your whole rotten, selfish plan. There isn't
an honest hair in your head nor in Zveri's. I can accord Tony and
Señorita Drinov the benefit of a doubt, for I cannot conceive either of
them as knaves. As I was deluded, so may they have been deluded, as
you and your kind have striven for years to delude countless millions
of others."
"You are not the first traitor to the cause," cried Zveri, "nor will
you be the first traitor to pay the penalty of his treason."
"That is not a good way to talk now," said Mori. "We are not already
too many. If we fight and kill one another, perhaps none of us will
come out of Africa alive. But if you kill Miguel, you will have to kill
me, too, and perhaps you will not be successful. Perhaps it is you who
will be killed."
"Tony is right," said the girl. "Let us call a truce until we reach
civilization." And so it was that under something of the nature of an
armed truce, the five set forth the following morning on the back trail
toward their base camp; while upon another trail, a full day ahead of
them, Tarzan and his Waziri warriors took a short cut for Opar.
"La may not be there," Tarzan explained to Muviro, "but I intend to
punish Oah and Dooth for their treachery and thus make it possible for
the high priestess to return in safety, if she still lives."
"But how about the white enemies in the jungle back of us, Bwana?"
asked Muviro.
"They shall not escape us," said Tarzan. "They are weak and
inexperienced to the jungle. They move slowly. We may always overtake
them when we will. It is La who concerns me most, for she is a friend,
while they are only enemies."
Many miles away, the object of his friendly solicitude approached a
clearing in the jungle, a man-made clearing that was evidently intended
for a camp site for a large body of men, though now only a few rude
shelters were occupied by a handful of blacks.
At the woman's side walked Wayne Colt, his strength now fully regained,
and at their heels paced Jad-bal-ja, the golden lion.
"We have found it at last," said the man; "thanks to you."
"Yes, but it is deserted," replied La. "They have all left."
"No," said Colt, "I see some blacks over by those shelters at the
right."
"It is well," said La, "and now I must leave you." There was a note of
regret in her voice.
"I hate to say good-bye," said the man, "but I know where your heart is
and that all your kindness to me has only delayed your return to Opar.
It is futile for me to attempt to express my gratitude, but I think
that you know what is in my heart."
"Yes," said the woman, "and it is enough for me to know that I have
made a friend, I who have so few loyal friends."
"I wish that you would let me go with you to Opar," he said. "You are
going back to face enemies, and you may need whatever little help I
should be able to give you."
She shook her head. "No, that cannot be," she replied. "All the
suspicion and hatred of me that was engendered in the hearts of some of
my people was caused by my friendship for a man of another world. Were
you to return with me and assist me in regaining my throne, it would
but arouse their suspicions still further. If Jad-bal-ja and I cannot
succeed alone, three of us could accomplish no more."
"Won't you at least be my guest for the rest of the day?" he asked. "I
can't offer you much hospitality," he added with a rueful smile.
"No, my friend," she said. "I cannot take the chance of losing
Jad-bal-ja; nor could you take the chance of losing your blacks, and I
fear that they would not remain together in the same camp. Good-bye,
Wayne Colt. But do not say that I go alone, at whose side walks
Jad-bal-ja."
From the base camp La knew the trail back to Opar; and as Colt watched
her depart, he felt a lump rise in his throat, for the beautiful girl
and the great lion seemed personifications of loveliness, and strength,
and loneliness.
With a sigh he turned into camp and crossed to where the blacks lay
sleeping through the midday heat. He awoke them, and at sight of him
they were all very much excited, for they had been members of his own
safari from the Coast and recognized him immediately. Having long
given him up for lost, they were at first inclined to be a little bit
frightened until they had convinced themselves that he was, indeed,
flesh and blood.
Since the killing of Dorsky they had had no master, and they confessed
to him that they had been seriously considering deserting the camp and
returning to their own countries; for they had been unable to rid their
minds of the weird and terrifying occurrences that the expedition had
witnessed in this strange country, in which they felt very much alone
and helpless without the guidance and protection of a white master.
* * * * *
Across the plain of Opar, toward the ruined city, walked a girl and a
lion; and behind them, at the summit of the escarpment which she had
just scaled, a man halted, looking out across the plain, and saw them
in the distance.
Behind him a hundred warriors swarmed up the rocky cliff. As they
gathered about the tall, bronzed, gray eyed figure that had preceded
them, the man pointed. "La!" he said.
"And Numa!" said Muviro. "He is stalking her. It is strange, Bwana,
that he does not charge."
"He will not charge," said Tarzan. "Why, I do not know; but I know that
he will not because it is Jad-bal-ja."
"The eyes of Tarzan are like the eyes of the eagle," said Muviro.
"Muviro sees only a woman and a lion, but Tarzan sees La and
Jad-bal-ja."
"I do not need my eyes for those two," said the ape-man. "I have a
nose."
"I, too, have a nose," said Muviro, "but it is only a piece of flesh
that sticks out from my face. It is good for nothing."
Tarzan smiled. "As a little child you did not have to depend upon your
nose for your life and your food," he said, "as I have always done,
then and since. Come, my children, La and Jad-bal-ja will be glad to
see us."
It was the keen ears of Jad-bal-ja that caught the first faint warning
noises from the rear. He halted and turned, his great head raised
majestically, his ears forward, the skin of his nose wrinkling to
stimulate his sense of smell. Then he voiced a low growl, and La
stopped and turned back to discover the cause of his displeasure.
As her eyes noted the approaching column, her heart sank. Even
Jad-bal-ja could not protect her against so many. She thought then to
attempt to outdistance them to the city; but when she glanced again at
the ruined walls at the far side of the valley she knew that that plan
was quite hopeless, as she would not have the strength to maintain a
fast pace for so great a distance, while among those black warriors
there must be many trained runners who could easily outdistance her.
And so, resigned to her fate, she stood and waited; while Jad-bal-ja,
with flattened head and twitching tail, advanced slowly to meet the
oncoming men; and as he advanced, his savage growls rose to the tumult
of tremendous roars that shook the earth as he sought to frighten away
this menace to his loved mistress.
But the men came on; and then, of a sudden, La saw that one who came in
advance of the others was lighter in color, and her heart leaped in her
breast; and then she recognized him, and tears came to the eyes of the
savage high priestess of Opar.
"It is Tarzan! Jad-bal-ja, it is Tarzan!" she cried, the light of her
great love illuminating her beautiful features.
Perhaps at the same instant the lion recognized his master, for the
roaring ceased, the eyes no longer glared, no longer was the great head
flattened as he trotted forward to meet the ape-man. Like a great dog,
he reared up before Tarzan. With a scream of terror little Nkima leaped
from the ape-man's shoulder and scampered, screaming, back to Muviro,
since bred in the fiber of Nkima was the knowledge that Numa was always
Numa. With his great paws on Tarzan's shoulder Jad-bal-ja licked the
bronzed cheek, and then Tarzan pushed him aside and walked rapidly
toward La; while Nkima, his terror gone, jumped frantically up and down
on Muviro's shoulder calling the lion many jungle names for having
frightened him.
"At last!" exclaimed Tarzan, as he stood face to face with La.
"At last," repeated the girl, "you have come back from your hunt."
"I came back immediately," replied the man, "but you had gone."
"You came back?" she asked.
"Yes, La," he replied. "I travelled far before I made a kill, but at
last I found meat and brought it to you, and you were gone and the rain
had obliterated your spoor and though I searched for days I could not
find you."
"Had I thought that you intended to return," she said, "I should have
remained there forever."
"You should have known that I would not have left you thus," replied
Tarzan.
"La is sorry," she said.
"And you have not been back to Opar since?" he asked.
"Jad-bal-ja and I are on our way to Opar now," she said. "I was lost
for a long time. Only recently did I find the trail to Opar, and then,
too, there was the white man who was lost and sick with fever. I
remained with him until the fever left him and his strength came back,
because I thought that he might be a friend of Tarzan's."
"What was his name?" asked the ape-man.
"Wayne Colt," she replied.
The ape-man smiled. "Did he appreciate what you did for him?" he asked.
"Yes, he wanted to come to Opar with me and help me regain my throne."
"You liked him then, La?" he asked.
"I liked him very much," she said, "but not in the same way that I like
Tarzan."
He touched her shoulder in a half caress. "La, the immutable!" he
murmured, and then, with a sudden toss of his head as though he would
clear his mind of sad thoughts, he turned once more toward Opar.
"Come," he said, "the Queen is returning to her throne."
The unseen eyes of Opar watched the advancing column. They recognized
La, and Tarzan, and the Waziri, and some there were who guessed the
identity of Jad-bal-ja; and Oah was frightened, and Dooth trembled, and
little Nao, who hated Oah, was almost happy, as happy as one may be who
carries a broken heart in one's bosom.
Oah had ruled with a tyrant hand, and Dooth had been a weak fool, whom
no one longer trusted; and there were whisperings now among the ruins,
whisperings that would have frightened Oah and Dooth had they heard
them, and the whisperings spread among the priestesses and the warrior
priests, with the result that when Tarzan and Jad-bal-ja led the Waziri
into the courtyard of the outer temple there was no one there to resist
them; but instead voices called down to them from the dark arches of
surrounding corridors pleading for mercy and voicing earnest assurance
of their future loyalty to La.
As they made their way into the city, they heard far in the interior of
the temple a sudden burst of noise. High voices were punctuated by loud
screams, and then came silence; and when they came to the throne room
the cause of it was apparent to them, for lying in a welter of blood
were the bodies of Oah and Dooth, with those of a half dozen priests
and priestesses who had remained loyal to them; and, but for these, the
great throne room was empty.
Once again did La, the high priestess of the Flaming God, resume her
throne as Queen of Opar.
That night Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle, ate again from the golden
platters of Opar, while young girls, soon to become priestesses of the
Flaming God, served meats and fruits, and wines so old that no living
man knew their vintage, nor in what forgotten vineyard grew the grapes
that went into their making.
But in such things Tarzan found little interest, and he was glad when
the new day found him at the head of his Waziri crossing the plain of
Opar toward the barrier cliffs. Upon his bronzed shoulder sat Nkima,
and at the ape-man's side paced the golden lion, while in column behind
him marched his hundred Waziri warriors.
It was a tired and disheartened company of whites that approached their
base camp after a long, monotonous and uneventful journey. Zveri and
Ivitch were in the lead, followed by Zora Drinov, while a considerable
distance to the rear Romero and Mori walked side by side, and such had
been the order in which they had marched all these long days.
Wayne Colt was sitting in the shade of one of the shelters, and the
blacks were lolling in front of another, a short distance away, as
Zveri and Ivitch came into sight.
Colt rose and came forward, and it was then that Zveri spied him. "You
damned traitor!" he cried. "I'll get you if it's the last thing I do on
earth," and as he spoke he drew his revolver and fired point blank at
the unarmed American.
His first shot grazed Colt's side without breaking the skin, but Zveri
fired no second shot, for almost simultaneously with the report of his
own shot another rang out behind him, and Peter Zveri, dropping his
pistol and clutching at his back, staggered drunkenly upon his feet.
Ivitch wheeled about. "My God, Zora, what have you done?" he cried.
"What I have been waiting to do for twelve years," replied the girl.
"What I have been waiting to do ever since I was little more than a
child."
Wayne Colt had run forward and seized Zveri's gun from the ground where
it had fallen, and Romero and Mori now came up at a run.
Zveri had sunk to the ground and was glaring savagely about him. "Who
shot me?" he screamed. "I know. It was that damned greaser."
"It was I," said Zora Drinov.
"You!" gasped Zveri.
Suddenly she turned to Wayne Colt as though only he mattered. "You
might as well know the truth," she said. "I am not a Red and never have
been. This man killed my father, and my mother, and an older brother
and sister. My father was--well, never mind who he was. He is avenged
now." She turned fiercely upon Zveri. "I could have killed you a
dozen times in the last few years," she said, "but I waited because I
wanted more than your life. I wanted to help kill the hideous schemes
with which you and your kind are seeking to wreck the happiness of the
world."
Peter Zveri sat on the ground, staring at her, his wide eyes slowly
glazing. Suddenly he coughed and a torrent of blood gushed from his
mouth. Then he sank back dead.
Romero had moved close to Ivitch. Suddenly he poked the muzzle of a
revolver into the Russian's ribs. "Drop your gun," he said. "I'm taking
no chances on you either."
Ivitch, paling, did as he was bid. He saw his little world tottering,
and he was afraid.
Across the clearing a figure stood at the edge of the jungle. It had
not been there an instant before. It had appeared silently as though
out of thin air. Zora Drinov was the first to perceive it. She voiced
a cry of surprised recognition; and as the others turned to follow the
direction of her eyes, they saw a bronzed white man, naked but for a
loin cloth of leopard skin, coming toward them. He moved with the easy,
majestic grace of a lion and there was much about him that suggested
the king of beasts.
"Who is that?" asked Colt.
"I do not know who he is," replied Zora, "other than that he is the man
who saved my life when I was lost in the jungle."
The man halted before them.
"Who are you?" demanded Wayne Colt.
"I am Tarzan of the Apes," replied the other. "I have seen and heard
all that has occurred here. The plan that was fostered by this man,"
he nodded at the body of Zveri, "has failed and he is dead. This girl
has avowed herself. She is not one of you. My people are camped a
short distance away. I shall take her to them and see that she reaches
civilization in safety. For the rest of you I have no sympathy. You may
get out of the jungle as best you may. I have spoken."
"They are not all what you think them, my friend," said Zora.
"What do you mean?" demanded Tarzan.
"Romero and Mori have learned their lesson. They avowed themselves
openly during a quarrel when our blacks deserted us."
"I heard them," said Tarzan.
She looked at him in surprise. "You heard them?" she asked.
"I have heard much that has gone on in many of your camps," replied the
ape-man, "but I do not know that I may believe all that I hear."
"I think you may believe what you heard them say," Zora assured him. "I
am confident that they are sincere."
"Very well," said Tarzan. "If they wish they may come with me also, but
these other two will have to shift for themselves."
"Not the American," said Zora.
"No? And why not?" demanded the ape-man.
"Because he is a special agent in the employ of the United States
Government," replied the girl.
The entire party, including Colt, looked at her in astonishment. "How
did you learn that?" demanded Colt.
"The message that you sent when you first came to camp and we were here
alone was intercepted by one of Zveri's agents. Now do you understand
how I know?"
"Yes," said Colt. "It is quite plain."
"That is why Zveri called you a traitor and tried to kill you."
"And how about this other?" demanded Tarzan, indicating Ivitch. "Is he,
also, a sheep in wolf's clothing?"
"He is one of those paradoxes who are so numerous," replied Zora. "He
is one of those Reds who is all yellow."
Tarzan turned to the blacks who had come forward and were standing,
listening questioningly to a conversation they could not understand. "I
know your country," he said to them in their own dialect. "It lies near
the end of the railroad that runs to the Coast."
"Yes, master," said one of the blacks.
"You will take this white man with you as far as the railroad. See
that he has enough to eat and is not harmed, and then tell him to get
out of the country. Start now." Then he turned back to the whites.
"The rest of you will follow me to my camp." And with that he turned
and swung away toward the trail by which he had entered the camp.
Behind him followed the four who owed to his humanity more than they
could ever know, nor had they known could have guessed that his great
tolerance, courage, resourcefulness and the protective instinct that
had often safeguarded them sprang not from his human progenitors, but
from his lifelong association with the natural beasts of the forest
and the jungle, who have these instinctive qualities far more strongly
developed than do the unnatural beasts of civilization, in whom the
greed and lust of competition have dimmed the luster of these noble
qualities where they have not eradicated them entirely.
Behind the others walked Zora Drinov and Wayne Colt, side by side.
"I thought you were dead," she said.
"And I thought that you were dead," he replied.
"And worse than that," she continued, "I thought that, whether dead or
alive, I might never tell you what was in my heart."
"And I thought that a hideous gulf separated us that I could never span
to ask you the question that I wanted to ask you," he answered in a low
tone.
She turned toward him, her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling.
"And I thought that, alive or dead, I could never say yes to that
question, if you did ask me," she replied.
A curve in the trail hid them from the sight of the others as he took
her in his arms and drew her lips to his.
TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE
Africa, the hunting ground of savage beasts, primitive men, and the
hidden fragments of ancient civilizations, was the target of a clever
Red scheme to create chaos and take it over.
It was in the oldest ruins of all, the lost city of lost Atlantis,
Opar, that this newest of world conquerors chose to make the point of
attack.
There was only one defender of freedom who knew the location of Opar
and that was Tarzan of the Apes. And so the contest of wits and skill
and jungle cunning was met--to make TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE one of Edgar
Rice Burroughs' best.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Tarzan the invincible" ***
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