|
To
this end, therefore, he collected the various arm and leg ornaments he had
taken from the black warriors who had succumbed to his swift and silent
noose, and donned them all after the way he had seen them worn.
About
his neck hung the golden chain from which depended the diamond encrusted
locket of his mother, the Lady Alice.
At his back was a quiver of arrows slung from a leathern shoulder
belt, another piece of loot from some vanquished black.
About
his waist was a belt of tiny strips of rawhide fashioned by himself as a
support for the home-made scabbard in which hung his father's hunting
knife. The long bow which had
been Kulonga's hung over his left shoulder.
The
young Lord Greystoke was indeed a strange and war-like figure, his mass of
black hair falling to his shoulders behind and cut with his hunting knife
to a rude bang upon his forehead, that it might not fall before his eyes.
His
straight and perfect figure, muscled as the best of the ancient Roman
gladiators must have been muscled, and yet with the soft and sinuous
curves of a Greek god, told at a glance the wondrous combination of
enormous strength with suppleness and speed.
A
personification, was Tarzan of the Apes, of the primitive man, the hunter,
the warrior.
With
the noble poise of his handsome head upon those broad shoulders, and the
fire of life and intelligence in those fine, clear eyes, he might readily
have typified some demigod of a wild and warlike bygone people of his
ancient forest.
But
of these things Tarzan did not think.
He was worried because he had not clothing to indicate to all the
jungle folks that he was a man and not an ape, and grave doubt often
entered his mind as to whether he might not yet become an ape.
Was
not hair commencing to grow upon his face?
All the apes had hair upon theirs but the black men were entirely
hairless, with very few exceptions.
True,
he had seen pictures in his books of men with great masses of hair upon
lip and cheek and chin, but, nevertheless, Tarzan was afraid.
Almost daily he whetted his keen knife and scraped and whittled at
his young beard to eradicate this degrading emblem of apehood.
And
so he learned to shave--rudely and painfully, it is true--but,
nevertheless, effectively.
When
he felt quite strong again, after his bloody battle with Terkoz, Tarzan
set off one morning towards Mbonga's village.
He was moving carelessly along a winding jungle trail, instead of
making his progress through the trees, when suddenly he came face to face
with a black warrior.
The
look of surprise on the savage face was almost comical, and before Tarzan
could unsling his bow the fellow had turned and fled down the path crying
out in alarm as though to others before him.
Tarzan
took to the trees in pursuit, and in a few moments came in view of the men
desperately striving to escape.
There
were three of them, and they were racing madly in single file through the
dense undergrowth.
Tarzan
easily distanced them, nor did they see his silent passage above their
heads, nor note the crouching figure squatted upon a low branch ahead of
them beneath which the trail led them.
Tarzan
let the first two pass beneath him, but as the third came swiftly on, the
quiet noose dropped about the black throat.
A quick jerk drew it taut.
There
was an agonized scream from the victim, and his fellows turned to see his
struggling body rise as by magic slowly into the dense foliage of the
trees above.
With
frightened shrieks they wheeled once more and plunged on in their efforts
to escape.
Tarzan
dispatched his prisoner quickly and silently; removed the weapons and
ornaments, and--oh, the greatest joy of all--a handsome deerskin
breechcloth, which he quickly transferred to his own person.
Now
indeed was he dressed as a man should be.
None there was who could now doubt his high origin.
How he should have liked to have returned to the tribe to parade
before their envious gaze this wondrous finery.
Taking
the body across his shoulder, he moved more slowly through the trees
toward the little palisaded village, for he again needed arrows.
As
he approached quite close to the enclosure he saw an excited group
surrounding the two fugitives, who, trembling with fright and exhaustion,
were scarce able to recount the uncanny details of their adventure.
Mirando,
they said, who had been ahead of them a short distance, had suddenly come
screaming toward them, crying that a terrible white and naked warrior was
pursuing him. The three of them had hurried toward the village as rapidly
as their legs would carry them.
Again
Mirando's shrill cry of mortal terror had caused them to look back, and
there they had seen the most horrible sight--their companion's body flying
upwards into the trees, his arms and legs beating the air and his tongue
protruding from his open mouth. No
other sound did he utter nor was there any creature in sight about him.
The
villagers were worked up into a state of fear bordering on panic, but wise
old Mbonga affected to feel considerable skepticism regarding the tale,
and attributed the whole fabrication to their fright in the face of some
real danger.
"You
tell us this great story," he said, "because you do not dare to
speak the truth. You do not
dare admit that when the lion sprang upon Mirando you ran away and left
him. You are cowards."
Scarcely
had Mbonga ceased speaking when a great crashing of branches in the trees
above them caused the blacks to look up in renewed terror.
The sight that met their eyes made even wise old Mbonga shudder,
for there, turning and twisting in the air, came the dead body of Mirando,
to sprawl with a sickening reverberation upon the ground at their feet.
With
one accord the blacks took to their heels; nor did they stop until the
last of them was lost in the dense shadows of the surrounding jungle.
Again
Tarzan came down into the village and renewed his supply of arrows and ate
of the offering of food which the blacks had made to appease his wrath.
Before
he left he carried the body of Mirando to the gate of the village, and
propped it up against the palisade in such a way that the dead face seemed
to be peering around the edge of the gatepost down the path which led to
the jungle.
Then
Tarzan returned, hunting, always hunting, to the cabin by the beach.
It
took a dozen attempts on the part of the thoroughly frightened blacks to
reenter their village, past the horrible, grinning face of their dead
fellow, and when they found the food and arrows gone they knew, what they
had only too well feared, that Mirando had seen the evil spirit of the
jungle.
That
now seemed to them the logical explanation.
Only those who saw this terrible god of the jungle died; for was it
not true that none left alive in the village had ever seen him? Therefore,
those who had died at his hands must have seen him and paid the penalty
with their lives.
As
long as they supplied him with arrows and food he would not harm them
unless they looked upon him, so it was ordered by Mbonga that in addition
to the food offering there should also be laid out an offering of arrows
for this Munan- go-Keewati, and this was done from then on.
If
you ever chance to pass that far off African village you will still see
before a tiny thatched hut, built just without the village, a little iron
pot in which is a quantity of food, and beside it a quiver of well-daubed
arrows.
When
Tarzan came in sight of the beach where stood his cabin, a strange and
unusual spectacle met his vision.
On
the placid waters of the landlocked harbor floated a great ship, and on
the beach a small boat was drawn up.
But,
most wonderful of all, a number of white men like himself were moving
about between the beach and his cabin.
Tarzan
saw that in many ways they were like the men of his picture books.
He crept closer through the trees until he was quite close above
them.
There
were ten men, swarthy, sun-tanned, villainous looking fellows.
Now they had congregated by the boat and were talking in loud,
angry tones, with much gesticulating and shaking of fists.
Presently
one of them, a little, mean-faced, black-bearded fellow with a countenance
which reminded Tarzan of Pamba, the rat, laid his hand upon the shoulder
of a giant who stood next him, and with whom all the others had been
arguing and quarreling.
The
little man pointed inland, so that the giant was forced to turn away from
the others to look in the direction indicated.
As he turned, the little, mean-faced man drew a revolver from his
belt and shot the giant in the back.
The
big fellow threw his hands above his head, his knees bent beneath him, and
without a sound he tumbled forward upon the beach, dead.
The
report of the weapon, the first that Tarzan had ever heard, filled him
with wonderment, but even this unaccustomed sound could not startle his
healthy nerves into even a semblance of panic.
The
conduct of the white strangers it was that caused him the greatest
perturbation. He puckered his
brows into a frown of deep thought. It
was well, thought he, that he had not given way to his first impulse to
rush forward and greet these white men as brothers.
They
were evidently no different from the black men--no more civilized than the
apes--no less cruel than Sabor.
For
a moment the others stood looking at the little, mean- faced man and the
giant lying dead upon the beach.
Then
one of them laughed and slapped the little man upon the back.
There was much more talk and gesticulating, but less quarreling.
Presently
they launched the boat and all jumped into it and rowed away toward the
great ship, where Tarzan could see other figures moving about upon the
deck.
When
they had clambered aboard, Tarzan dropped to earth behind a great tree and
crept to his cabin, keeping it always between himself and the ship.
Slipping
in at the door he found that everything had been ransacked.
His books and pencils strewed the floor.
His weapons and shields and other little store of treasures were
littered about.
As
he saw what had been done a great wave of anger surged through him, and
the new made scar upon his forehead stood suddenly out, a bar of inflamed
crimson against his tawny hide.
Quickly
he ran to the cupboard and searched in the far recess of the lower shelf.
Ah! He breathed a sigh
of relief as he drew out the little tin box, and, opening it, found his
greatest treasures undisturbed.
The
photograph of the smiling, strong-faced young man, and the little black
puzzle book were safe.
What
was that?
His
quick ear had caught a faint but unfamiliar sound.
Running
to the window Tarzan looked toward the harbor, and there he saw that a
boat was being lowered from the great ship beside the one already in the
water. Soon he saw many
people clambering over the sides of the larger vessel and dropping into
the boats. They were coming
back in full force.
For
a moment longer Tarzan watched while a number of boxes and bundles were
lowered into the waiting boats, then, as they shoved off from the ship's
side, the ape-man snatched up a piece of paper, and with a pencil printed
on it for a few moments until it bore several lines of strong, well-made,
almost letter-perfect characters.
This
notice he stuck upon the door with a small sharp splinter of wood.
Then gathering up his precious tin box, his arrows, and as many
bows and spears as he could carry, he hastened through the door and
disappeared into the forest.
When
the two boats were beached upon the silvery sand it was a strange
assortment of humanity that clambered ashore.
Some
twenty souls in all there were, fifteen of them rough and villainous
appearing seamen.
The
others of the party were of different stamp.
One
was an elderly man, with white hair and large rimmed spectacles.
His slightly stooped shoulders were draped in an ill-fitting,
though immaculate, frock coat, and a shiny silk hat added to the
incongruity of his garb in an African jungle.
The
second member of the party to land was a tall young man in white ducks,
while directly behind came another elderly man with a very high forehead
and a fussy, excitable manner.
After
these came a huge Negress clothed like Solomon as to colors.
Her great eyes rolled in evident terror, first toward the jungle
and then toward the cursing band of sailors who were removing the bales
and boxes from the boats.
The
last member of the party to disembark was a girl of about nineteen, and it
was the young man who stood at the boat's prow to lift her high and dry
upon land. She gave him a
brave and pretty smile of thanks, but no words passed between them.
In
silence the party advanced toward the cabin.
It was evident that whatever their intentions, all had been decided
upon before they left the ship; and so they came to the door, the sailors
carrying the boxes and bales, followed by the five who were of so
different a class. The men
put down their burdens, and then one caught sight of the notice which
Tarzan had posted.
"Ho,
mates!" he cried. "What's
here? This sign was not posted an hour ago or I'll eat the
cook."
The
others gathered about, craning their necks over the shoulders of those
before them, but as few of them could read at all, and then only after the
most laborious fashion, one finally turned to the little old man of the
top hat and frock coat.
"Hi,
perfesser," he called, "step for'rd and read the bloomin' notis."
Thus
addressed, the old man came slowly to where the sailors stood, followed by
the other members of his party. Adjusting his spectacles he looked for a
moment at the placard and then, turning away, strolled off muttering to
himself: "Most
remarkable--most remarkable!"
"Hi,
old fossil," cried the man who had first called on him for
assistance, "did je think we wanted of you to read the bloomin' notis
to yourself? Come back here
and read it out loud, you old barnacle."
The
old man stopped and, turning back, said:
"Oh, yes, my dear sir, a thousand pardons.
It was quite thoughtless of me, yes--very thoughtless.
Most remarkable--most remarkable!"
Again
he faced the notice and read it through, and doubtless would have turned
off again to ruminate upon it had not the sailor grasped him roughly by
the collar and howled into his ear.
"Read
it out loud, you blithering old idiot."
"Ah,
yes indeed, yes indeed," replied the professor softly, and adjusting
his spectacles once more he read aloud:
THIS IS THE HOUSE OF TARZAN, THE
KILLER OF BEASTS AND MANY BLACK
MEN. DO NOT HARM THE
THINGS WHICH ARE
TARZAN'S. TARZAN WATCHES. TARZAN OF THE APES.
"Who the devil is Tarzan?" cried the sailor who had
before spoken.
"He
evidently speaks English," said the young man.
"But
what does `Tarzan of the Apes' mean?" cried the girl.
"I
do not know, Miss Porter," replied the young man, "unless we
have discovered a runaway simian from the London Zoo who has brought back
a European education to his jungle home.
What do you make of it, Professor Porter?" he added, turning
to the old man.
Professor
Archimedes Q. Porter adjusted his spectacles.
"Ah,
yes, indeed; yes indeed--most remarkable, most remarkable!" said the
professor; "but I can add nothing further to what I have already
remarked in elucidation of this truly momentous occurrence," and the
professor turned slowly in the direction of the jungle.
"But,
papa," cried the girl, "you haven't said anything about it
yet."
"Tut,
tut, child; tut, tut," responded Professor Porter, in a kindly and
indulgent tone, "do not trouble your pretty head with such weighty
and abstruse problems," and again he wandered slowly off in still
another direction, his eyes bent upon the ground at his feet, his hands
clasped behind him beneath the flowing tails of his coat.
"I
reckon the daffy old bounder don't know no more'n we do about it,"
growled the rat-faced sailor.
"Keep
a civil tongue in your head," cried the young man, his face paling in
anger, at the insulting tone of the sailor. "You've murdered our
officers and robbed us. We
are absolutely in your power, but you'll treat Professor Porter and Miss
Porter with respect or I'll break that vile neck of yours with my bare
hands--guns or no guns," and the young fellow stepped so close to the
rat-faced sailor that the latter, though he bore two revolvers and a
villainous looking knife in his belt, slunk back abashed.
"You
damned coward," cried the young man.
"You'd never dare shoot a man until his back was turned.
You don't dare shoot me even then," and he deliberately turned
his back full upon the sailor and walked nonchalantly away as if to put
him to the test.
The
sailor's hand crept slyly to the butt of one of his revolvers; his wicked
eyes glared vengefully at the retreating form of the young Englishman.
The gaze of his fellows was upon him, but still he hesitated. At heart he was even a greater coward than Mr. William Cecil
Clayton had imagined.
Two
keen eyes had watched every move of the party from the foliage of a nearby
tree. Tarzan had seen the
surprise caused by his notice, and while he could understand nothing of
the spoken language of these strange people their gestures and facial
expressions told him much.
The
act of the little rat-faced sailor in killing one of his comrades had
aroused a strong dislike in Tarzan, and now that he saw him quarreling
with the fine-looking young man his animosity was still further stirred.
Tarzan
had never seen the effects of a firearm before, though his books had
taught him something of them, but when he saw the rat-faced one fingering
the butt of his revolver he thought of the scene he had witnessed so short
a time before, and naturally expected to see the young man murdered as had
been the huge sailor earlier in the day.
So
Tarzan fitted a poisoned arrow to his bow and drew a bead upon the
rat-faced sailor, but the foliage was so thick that he soon saw the arrow
would be deflected by the leaves or some small branch, and instead he
launched a heavy spear from his lofty perch.
Clayton
had taken but a dozen steps. The
rat-faced sailor had half drawn his revolver; the other sailors stood
watching the scene intently.
Professor
Porter had already disappeared into the jungle, whither he was being
followed by the fussy Samuel T. Philander, his secretary and assistant.
Esmeralda,
the Negress, was busy sorting her mistress' baggage from the pile of bales
and boxes beside the cabin, and Miss Porter had turned away to follow
Clayton, when something caused her to turn again toward the sailor.
And
then three things happened almost simultaneously. The sailor jerked out
his weapon and leveled it at Clayton's back, Miss Porter screamed a
warning, and a long, metal- shod spear shot like a bolt from above and
passed entirely through the right shoulder of the rat-faced man.
The
revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and the seaman crumpled up with a
scream of pain and terror.
Clayton
turned and rushed back toward the scene.
The sailors stood in a frightened group, with drawn weapons,
peering into the jungle. The
wounded man writhed and shrieked upon the ground.
Clayton,
unseen by any, picked up the fallen revolver and slipped it inside his
shirt, then he joined the sailors in gazing, mystified, into the jungle.
"Who
could it have been?" whispered Jane Porter, and the young man turned
to see her standing, wide-eyed and wondering, close beside him.
"I
dare say Tarzan of the Apes is watching us all right," he answered,
in a dubious tone. "I
wonder, now, who that spear was intended for.
If for Snipes, then our ape friend is a friend indeed.
"By
jove, where are your father and Mr. Philander? There's someone or
something in that jungle, and it's armed, whatever it is.
Ho! Professor!
Mr. Philander!" young Clayton shouted. There was no response.
"What's
to be done, Miss Porter?" continued the young man, his face clouded
by a frown of worry and indecision.
"I
can't leave you here alone with these cutthroats, and you certainly can't
venture into the jungle with me; yet someone must go in search of your
father. He is more than apt
to wandering off aimlessly, regardless of danger or direction, and Mr.
Philander is only a trifle less impractical than he.
You will pardon my bluntness, but our lives are all in jeopardy
here, and when we get your father back something must be done to impress
upon him the dangers to which he exposes you as well as himself by his
absent-mindedness."
"I
quite agree with you," replied the girl, "and I am not offended
at all. Dear old papa would sacrifice his life for me without an
instant's hesitation, provided one could keep his mind on so frivolous a
matter for an entire instant. There
is only one way to keep him in safety, and that is to chain him to a tree.
The poor dear is SO impractical."
"I
have it!" suddenly exclaimed Clayton.
"You can use a revolver, can't you?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I
have one. With it you and
Esmeralda will be comparatively safe in this cabin while I am searching
for your father and Mr. Philander. Come,
call the woman and I will hurry on. They
can't have gone far."
Jane
did as he suggested and when he saw the door close safely behind them
Clayton turned toward the jungle.
Some
of the sailors were drawing the spear from their wounded comrade and, as
Clayton approached, he asked if he could borrow a revolver from one of
them while he searched the jungle for the professor.
The
rat-faced one, finding he was not dead, had regained his composure, and
with a volley of oaths directed at Clayton refused in the name of his
fellows to allow the young man any firearms.
This
man, Snipes, had assumed the role of chief since he had killed their
former leader, and so little time had elapsed that none of his companions
had as yet questioned his authority.
Clayton's
only response was a shrug of the shoulders, but as he left them he picked
up the spear which had transfixed Snipes, and thus primitively armed, the
son of the then Lord Greystoke strode into the dense jungle.
Every
few moments he called aloud the names of the wanderers. The watchers in
the cabin by the beach heard the sound of his voice growing ever fainter
and fainter, until at last it was swallowed up by the myriad noises of the
primeval wood.
When
Professor Archimedes Q. Porter and his assistant, Samuel T. Philander,
after much insistence on the part of the latter, had finally turned their
steps toward camp, they were as completely lost in the wild and tangled
labyrinth of the matted jungle as two human beings well could be, though
they did not know it.
It
was by the merest caprice of fortune that they headed toward the west
coast of Africa, instead of toward Zanzibar on the opposite side of the
dark continent.
When
in a short time they reached the beach, only to find no camp in sight,
Philander was positive that they were north of their proper destination,
while, as a matter of fact they were about two hundred yards south of it.
It
never occurred to either of these impractical theorists to call aloud on
the chance of attracting their friends' attention. Instead, with all the
assurance that deductive reasoning from a wrong premise induces in one,
Mr. Samuel T. Philander grasped Professor Archimedes Q. Porter firmly by
the arm and hurried the weakly protesting old gentleman off in the
direction of Cape Town, fifteen hundred miles to the south.
When
Jane and Esmeralda found themselves safely behind the cabin door the
Negress's first thought was to barricade the portal from the inside.
With this idea in mind she turned to search for some means of
putting it into execution; but her first view of the interior of the cabin
brought a shriek of terror to her lips, and like a frightened child the
huge woman ran to bury her face on her mistress' shoulder.
Jane,
turning at the cry, saw the cause of it lying prone upon the floor before
them--the whitened skeleton of a man. A further glance revealed a second
skeleton upon the bed.
"What
horrible place are we in?" murmured the awe-struck girl.
But there was no panic in her fright.
At
last, disengaging herself from the frantic clutch of the still shrieking
Esmeralda, Jane crossed the room to look into the little cradle, knowing
what she should see there even before the tiny skeleton disclosed itself
in all its pitiful and pathetic frailty.
What
an awful tragedy these poor mute bones proclaimed! The girl shuddered at
thought of the eventualities which might lie before herself and her
friends in this ill-fated cabin, the haunt of mysterious, perhaps hostile,
beings.
Quickly,
with an impatient stamp of her little foot, she endeavored to shake off
the gloomy forebodings, and turning to Esmeralda bade her cease her
wailing.
"Stop,
Esmeralda, stop it this minute!" she cried.
"You are only making it worse."
She
ended lamely, a little quiver in her own voice as she thought of the three
men, upon whom she depended for protection, wandering in the depth of that
awful forest.
Soon
the girl found that the door was equipped with a heavy wooden bar upon the
inside, and after several efforts the combined strength of the two enabled
them to slip it into place, the first time in twenty years.
Then
they sat down upon a bench with their arms about one another, and waited.
|
Table of Contents
