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Presently
Tarzan came up with the white man, who, almost fagged, was leaning against
a tree wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
The ape-man, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching
this new specimen of his own race intently.
At
intervals Clayton called aloud and finally it came to Tarzan that he was
searching for the old man.
Tarzan
was on the point of going off to look for them himself, when he caught the
yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the jungle toward
Clayton.
It
was Sheeta, the leopard. Now,
Tarzan heard the soft bending of grasses and wondered why the young white
man was not warned. Could it
be he had failed to note the loud warning?
Never before had Tarzan known Sheeta to be so clumsy.
No,
the white man did not hear. Sheeta
was crouching for the spring, and then, shrill and horrible, there rose
from the stillness of the jungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and
Sheeta turned, crashing into the underbrush.
Clayton
came to his feet with a start. His
blood ran cold. Never in all his life had so fearful a sound smote upon
his ears. He was no coward; but if ever man felt the icy fingers of
fear upon his heart, William Cecil Clayton, eldest son of Lord Greystoke
of England, did that day in the fastness of the African jungle.
The
noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close beside
him, and the sound of that bloodcurdling shriek from above, tested
Clayton's courage to the limit; but he could not know that it was to that
very voice he owed his life, nor that the creature who hurled it forth was
his own cousin--the real Lord Greystoke.
The
afternoon was drawing to a close, and Clayton, disheartened and
discouraged, was in a terrible quandary as to the proper course to pursue;
whether to keep on in search of Professor Porter, at the almost certain
risk of his own death in the jungle by night, or to return to the cabin
where he might at least serve to protect Jane from the perils which
confronted her on all sides.
He
did not wish to return to camp without her father; still more, he shrank
from the thought of leaving her alone and unprotected in the hands of the
mutineers of the Arrow, or to the hundred unknown dangers of the jungle.
Possibly,
too, he thought, the professor and Philander might have returned to camp.
Yes, that was more than likely. At least he would return and see,
before he continued what seemed to be a most fruitless quest.
And so he started, stumbling back through the thick and matted
underbrush in the direction that he thought the cabin lay.
To
Tarzan's surprise the young man was heading further into the jungle in the
general direction of Mbonga's village, and the shrewd young ape-man was
convinced that he was lost.
To
Tarzan this was scarcely incomprehensible; his judgment told him that no
man would venture toward the village of the cruel blacks armed only with a
spear which, from the awkward way in which he carried it, was evidently an
unaccustomed weapon to this white man.
Nor was he following the trail of the old men.
That, they had crossed and left long since, though it had been
fresh and plain before Tarzan's eyes.
Tarzan
was perplexed. The fierce
jungle would make easy prey of this unprotected stranger in a very short
time if he were not guided quickly to the beach.
Yes,
there was Numa, the lion, even now, stalking the white man a dozen paces
to the right.
Clayton
heard the great body paralleling his course, and now there rose upon the
evening air the beast's thunderous roar.
The man stopped with upraised spear and faced the brush from which
issued the awful sound. The
shadows were deepening, darkness was settling in.
God!
To die here alone, beneath the fangs of wild beasts; to be torn and
rended; to feel the hot breath of the brute on his face as the great paw
crushed down up his breast!
For
a moment all was still. Clayton
stood rigid, with raised spear. Presently
a faint rustling of the bush apprised him of the stealthy creeping of the
thing behind. It was
gathering for the spring. At
last he saw it, not twenty feet away--the long, lithe, muscular body and
tawny head of a huge black-maned lion.
The
beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly. As its eyes met
Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately, cautiously gathered its hind
quarters behind it.
In
agony the man watched, fearful to launch his spear, powerless to fly.
He
heard a noise in the tree above him.
Some new danger, he thought, but he dared not take his eyes from
the yellow green orbs before him. There
was a sharp twang as of a broken banjo-string, and at the same instant an
arrow appeared in the yellow hide of the crouching lion.
With
a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang; but, somehow, Clayton stumbled
to one side, and as he turned again to face the infuriated king of beasts,
he was appalled at the sight which confronted him.
Almost simultaneously with the lion's turning to renew the attack a
half-naked giant dropped from the tree above squarely on the brute's back.
With
lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron muscle encircled the
huge neck, and the great beast was raised from behind, roaring and pawing
the air--raised as easily as Clayton would have lifted a pet dog.
The
scene he witnessed there in the twilight depths of the African jungle was
burned forever into the Englishman's brain.
The
man before him was the embodiment of physical perfection and giant
strength; yet it was not upon these he depended in his battle with the
great cat, for mighty as were his muscles, they were as nothing by
comparison with Numa's. To his agility, to his brain and to his long keen
knife he owed his supremacy.
His
right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand plunged the knife
time and again into the unprotected side behind the left shoulder.
The infuriated beast, pulled up and backwards until he stood upon
his hind legs, struggled impotently in this unnatural position.
Had
the battle been of a few seconds' longer duration the outcome might have
been different, but it was all accomplished so quickly that the lion had
scarce time to recover from the confusion of its surprise ere it sank
lifeless to the ground.
Then
the strange figure which had vanquished it stood erect upon the carcass,
and throwing back the wild and handsome head, gave out the fearsome cry
which a few moments earlier had so startled Clayton.
Before
him he saw the figure of a young man, naked except for a loin cloth and a
few barbaric ornaments about arms and legs; on the breast a priceless
diamond locket gleaming against a smooth brown skin.
The
hunting knife had been returned to its homely sheath, and the man was
gathering up his bow and quiver from where he had tossed them when he
leaped to attack the lion.
Clayton
spoke to the stranger in English, thanking him for his brave rescue and
complimenting him on the wondrous strength and dexterity he had displayed,
but the only answer was a steady stare and a faint shrug of the mighty
shoulders, which might betoken either disparagement of the service
rendered, or ignorance of Clayton's language.
When
the bow and quiver had been slung to his back the wild man, for such
Clayton now thought him, once more drew his knife and deftly carved a
dozen large strips of meat from the lion's carcass.
Then, squatting upon his haunches, he proceeded to eat, first
motioning Clayton to join him.
The
strong white teeth sank into the raw and dripping flesh in apparent relish
of the meal, but Clayton could not bring himself to share the uncooked
meat with his strange host; instead he watched him, and presently there
dawned upon him the conviction that this was Tarzan of the Apes, whose
notice he had seen posted upon the cabin door that morning.
If
so he must speak English.
Again
Clayton attempted speech with the ape-man; but the replies, now vocal,
were in a strange tongue, which resembled the chattering of monkeys
mingled with the growling of some wild beast.
No,
this could not be Tarzan of the Apes, for it was very evident that he was
an utter stranger to English.
When
Tarzan had completed his repast he rose and, pointing a very different
direction from that which Clayton had been pursuing, started off through
the jungle toward the point he had indicated.
Clayton,
bewildered and confused, hesitated to follow him, for he thought he was
but being led more deeply into the mazes of the forest; but the ape-man,
seeing him disinclined to follow, returned, and, grasping him by the coat,
dragged him along until he was convinced that Clayton understood what was
required of him. Then he left
him to follow voluntarily.
The
Englishman, finally concluding that he was a prisoner, saw no alternative
open but to accompany his captor, and thus they traveled slowly through
the jungle while the sable mantle of the impenetrable forest night fell
about them, and the stealthy footfalls of padded paws mingled with the
breaking of twigs and the wild calls of the savage life that Clayton felt
closing in upon him.
Suddenly
Clayton heard the faint report of a firearm--a single shot, and then
silence.
In
the cabin by the beach two thoroughly terrified women clung to each other
as they crouched upon the low bench in the gathering darkness.
The
Negress sobbed hysterically, bemoaning the evil day that had witnessed her
departure from her dear Maryland, while the white girl, dry eyed and
outwardly calm, was torn by inward fears and forebodings.
She feared not more for herself than for the three men whom she
knew to be wandering in the abysmal depths of the savage jungle, from
which she now heard issuing the almost incessant shrieks and roars,
barkings and growlings of its terrifying and fearsome denizens as they
sought their prey.
And
now there came the sound of a heavy body brushing against the side of the
cabin. She could hear the
great padded paws upon the ground outside.
For an instant, all was silence; even the bedlam of the forest died
to a faint murmur. Then she
distinctly heard the beast outside sniffing at the door, not two feet from
where she crouched. Instinctively
the girl shuddered, and shrank closer to the black woman.
"Hush!"
she whispered. "Hush,
Esmeralda," for the woman's sobs and groans seemed to have attracted
the thing that stalked there just beyond the thin wall.
A
gentle scratching sound was heard on the door.
The brute tried to force an entrance; but presently this ceased,
and again she heard the great pads creeping stealthily around the cabin.
Again they stopped--beneath the window on which the terrified eyes
of the girl now glued themselves.
"God!"
she murmured, for now, silhouetted against the moonlit sky beyond, she saw
framed in the tiny square of the latticed window the head of a huge
lioness. The gleaming eyes were fixed upon her in intent ferocity.
"Look,
Esmeralda!" she whispered. "For
God's sake, what shall we do? Look!
Quick! The
window!"
Esmeralda,
cowering still closer to her mistress, took one frightened glance toward
the little square of moonlight, just as the lioness emitted a low, savage
snarl.
The
sight that met the poor woman's eyes was too much for the already
overstrung nerves.
"Oh,
Gaberelle!" she shrieked, and slid to the floor an inert and
senseless mass.
For
what seemed an eternity the great brute stood with its forepaws upon the
sill, glaring into the little room. Presently
it tried the strength of the lattice with its great talons.
The
girl had almost ceased to breathe, when, to her relief, the head
disappeared and she heard the brute's footsteps leaving the window.
But now they came to the door again, and once more the scratching
commenced; this time with increasing force until the great beast was
tearing at the massive panels in a perfect frenzy of eagerness to seize
its defenseless victims.
Could
Jane have known the immense strength of that door, built piece by piece,
she would have felt less fear of the lioness reaching her by this avenue.
Little
did John Clayton imagine when he fashioned that crude but mighty portal
that one day, twenty years later, it would shield a fair American girl,
then unborn, from the teeth and talons of a man-eater.
For
fully twenty minutes the brute alternately sniffed and tore at the door,
occasionally giving voice to a wild, savage cry of baffled rage.
At length, however, she gave up the attempt, and Jane heard her
returning toward the window, beneath which she paused for an instant, and
then launched her great weight against the timeworn lattice.
The
girl heard the wooden rods groan beneath the impact; but they held, and
the huge body dropped back to the ground below.
Again
and again the lioness repeated these tactics, until finally the horrified
prisoner within saw a portion of the lattice give way, and in an instant
one great paw and the head of the animal were thrust within the room.
Slowly
the powerful neck and shoulders spread the bars apart, and the lithe body
protruded farther and farther into the room.
As
in a trance, the girl rose, her hand upon her breast, wide eyes staring
horror-stricken into the snarling face of the beast scarce ten feet from
her. At her feet lay the
prostrate form of the Negress. If she could but arouse her, their combined efforts might
possibly avail to beat back the fierce and bloodthirsty intruder.
Jane
stooped to grasp the black woman by the shoulder. Roughly she shook her.
"Esmeralda! Esmeralda!" she cried.
"Help me, or we are lost."
Esmeralda
opened her eyes. The first
object they encountered was the dripping fangs of the hungry lioness.
With
a horrified scream the poor woman rose to her hands and knees, and in this
position scurried across the room, shrieking:
"O Gaberelle! O
Gaberelle!" at the top of her lungs.
Esmeralda
weighed some two hundred and eighty pounds, and her extreme haste, added
to her extreme corpulency, produced a most amazing result when Esmeralda
elected to travel on all fours.
For
a moment the lioness remained quiet with intense gaze directed upon the
flitting Esmeralda, whose goal appeared to be the cupboard, into which she
attempted to propel her huge bulk; but as the shelves were but nine or ten
inches apart, she only succeeded in getting her head in; whereupon, with a
final screech, which paled the jungle noises into insignificance, she
fainted once again.
With
the subsidence of Esmeralda the lioness renewed her efforts to wriggle her
huge bulk through the weakening lattice.
The
girl, standing pale and rigid against the farther wall, sought with
ever-increasing terror for some loophole of escape. Suddenly her hand,
tight-pressed against her bosom, felt the hard outline of the revolver
that Clayton had left with her earlier in the day.
Quickly
she snatched it from its hiding-place, and, leveling it full at the
lioness's face, pulled the trigger.
There
was a flash of flame, the roar of the discharge, and an answering roar of
pain and anger from the beast.
Jane
Porter saw the great form disappear from the window, and then she, too,
fainted, the revolver falling at her side.
But
Sabor was not killed. The
bullet had but inflicted a painful wound in one of the great shoulders.
It was the surprise at the blinding flash and the deafening roar
that had caused her hasty but temporary retreat.
In
another instant she was back at the lattice, and with renewed fury was
clawing at the aperture, but with lessened effect, since the wounded
member was almost useless.
She
saw her prey--the two women--lying senseless upon the floor.
There was no longer any resistance to be overcome. Her meat lay
before her, and Sabor had only to worm her way through the lattice to
claim it.
Slowly
she forced her great bulk, inch by inch, through the opening.
Now her head was through, now one great forearm and shoulder.
Carefully
she drew up the wounded member to insinuate it gently beyond the tight
pressing bars.
A
moment more and both shoulders through, the long, sinuous body and the
narrow hips would glide quickly after.
It
was on this sight that Jane Porter again opened her eyes.
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