Several miles south of the cabin,
upon a strip of sandy beach,
stood two old men, arguing.
Before them stretched the broad
Atlantic. At their backs was
the Dark Continent. Close around
them loomed the impenetrable
blackness of the jungle.
Savage beasts roared and growled;
noises, hideous and weird, assailed
their ears. They had wandered
for miles in search of their
camp, but always in the wrong
direction. They were as hopelessly
lost as though they suddenly
had been transported to another
world.
At such a time, indeed, every
fiber of their combined intellects
must have been concentrated upon
the vital question of the minute--the
life-and-death question to them
of retracing their steps to camp.
Samuel T. Philander was speaking.
"But, my dear professor," he
was saying, "I still maintain
that but for the victories of
Ferdinand and Isabella over the
fifteenth-century Moors in Spain
the world would be today a thousand
years in advance of where we
now find ourselves. The Moors
were essentially a tolerant,
broad-minded, liberal race of
agriculturists, artisans and
merchants--the very type of people
that has made possible such civilization
as we find today in America and
Europe--while the Spaniards--"
"Tut, tut, dear Mr. Philander," interrupted
Professor Porter; "their religion
positively precluded the possibilities
you suggest. Moslemism was, is,
and always will be, a blight
on that scientific progress which
has marked--"
"Bless me! Professor," interjected
Mr. Philander, who had turned
his gaze toward the jungle, "there
seems to be someone approaching."
Professor Archimedes Q. Porter
turned in the direction indicated
by the nearsighted Mr. Philander.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," he
chided. "How often must I urge
you to seek that absolute concentration
of your mental faculties which
alone may permit you to bring
to bear the highest powers of
intellectuality upon the momentous
problems which naturally fall
to the lot of great minds? And
now I find you guilty of a most
flagrant breach of courtesy in
interrupting my learned discourse
to call attention to a mere quadruped
of the genus FELIS. As I was
saying, Mr.--"
"Heavens, Professor, a lion?" cried
Mr. Philander, straining his
weak eyes toward the dim figure
outlined against the dark tropical
underbrush.
"Yes, yes,
Mr. Philander, if you insist
upon employing slang
in your discourse, a `lion.'
But as I was saying--"
"Bless me, Professor," again
interrupted Mr. Philander; "permit
me to suggest that doubtless
the Moors who were conquered
in the fifteenth century will
continue in that most regrettable
condition for the time being
at least, even though we postpone
discussion of that world calamity
until we may attain the enchanting
view of yon FELIS CARNIVORA which
distance proverbially is credited
with lending."
In the meantime the lion had
approached with quiet dignity
to within ten paces of the two
men, where he stood curiously
watching them.
The moonlight flooded the beach,
and the strange group stood out
in bold relief against the yellow
sand.
"Most reprehensible, most reprehensible," exclaimed
Professor Porter, with a faint
trace of irritation in his voice. "Never,
Mr. Philander, never before in
my life have I known one of these
animals to be permitted to roam
at large from its cage. I shall
most certainly report this outrageous
breach of ethics to the directors
of the adjacent zoological garden."
"Quite right, Professor," agreed
Mr. Philander, "and the sooner
it is done the better. Let us
start now."
Seizing the professor by the
arm, Mr. Philander set off in
the direction that would put
the greatest distance between
themselves and the lion.
They had proceeded but a short
distance when a backward glance
revealed to the horrified gaze
of Mr. Philander that the lion
was following them. He tightened
his grip upon the protesting
professor and increased his speed.
"As I was saying, Mr. Philander," repeated
Professor Porter.
Mr. Philander took another
hasty glance rearward. The lion
also had quickened his gait,
and was doggedly maintaining
an unvarying distance behind
them.
"He is following us!" gasped
Mr. Philander, breaking into
a run.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," remonstrated
the professor, "this unseemly
haste is most unbecoming to men
of letters. What will our friends
think of us, who may chance to
be upon the street and witness
our frivolous antics? Pray let
us proceed with more decorum."
Mr. Philander stole another
observation astern.
The lion was bounding along
in easy leaps scarce five paces
behind.
Mr. Philander dropped the professor's
arm, and broke into a mad orgy
of speed that would have done
credit to any varsity track team.
"As I was saying, Mr. Philander--" screamed
Professor Porter, as, metaphorically
speaking, he himself "threw her
into high." He, too, had caught
a fleeting backward glimpse of
cruel yellow eyes and half open
mouth within startling proximity
of his person.
With streaming coat tails and
shiny silk hat Professor Archimedes
Q. Porter fled through the moonlight
close upon the heels of Mr. Samuel
T. Philander.
Before them a point of the
jungle ran out toward a narrow
promontory, and it was for the
heaven of the trees he saw there
that Mr. Samuel T. Philander
directed his prodigious leaps
and bounds; while from the shadows
of this same spot peered two
keen eyes in interested appreciation
of the race.
It was Tarzan of the Apes who
watched, with face a-grin, this
odd game of follow-the-leader.
He knew the two men were safe
enough from attack in so far
as the lion was concerned. The
very fact that Numa had foregone
such easy prey at all convinced
the wise forest craft of Tarzan
that Numa's belly already was
full.
The lion might stalk them until
hungry again; but the chances
were that if not angered he would
soon tire of the sport, and slink
away to his jungle lair.
Really, the one great danger
was that one of the men might
stumble and fall, and then the
yellow devil would be upon him
in a moment and the joy of the
kill would be too great a temptation
to withstand.
So Tarzan swung quickly to
a lower limb in line with the
approaching fugitives; and as
Mr. Samuel T. Philander came
panting and blowing beneath him,
already too spent to struggle
up to the safety of the limb,
Tarzan reached down and, grasping
him by the collar of his coat,
yanked him to the limb by his
side.
Another moment brought the
professor within the sphere of
the friendly grip, and he, too,
was drawn upward to safety just
as the baffled Numa, with a roar,
leaped to recover his vanishing
quarry.
For a moment the two men clung
panting to the great branch,
while Tarzan squatted with his
back to the stem of the tree,
watching them with mingled curiosity
and amusement.
It was the professor who first
broke the silence.
"I am deeply
pained, Mr. Philander, that
you should have evinced
such a paucity of manly courage
in the presence of one of the
lower orders, and by your crass
timidity have caused me to exert
myself to such an unaccustomed
degree in order that I might
resume my discourse. As I was
saying, Mr. Philander, when you
interrupted me, the Moors--"
"Professor Archimedes Q. Porter," broke
in Mr. Philander, in icy tones, "the
time has arrived when patience
becomes a crime and mayhem appears
garbed in the mantle of virtue.
You have accused me of cowardice.
You have insinuated that you
ran only to overtake me, not
to escape the clutches of the
lion. Have a care, Professor
Archimedes Q. Porter! I am a
desperate man. Goaded by long-suffering
patience the worm will turn."
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut,
tut!" cautioned Professor Porter; "you
forget yourself."
"I forget nothing
as yet, Professor Archimedes
Q. Porter; but, believe
me, sir, I am tottering on the
verge of forgetfulness as to
your exalted position in the
world of science, and your gray
hairs."
The professor sat in silence
for a few minutes, and the darkness
hid the grim smile that wreathed
his wrinkled countenance. Presently
he spoke.
"Look here, Skinny Philander," he
said, in belligerent tones, "if
you are lookin' for a scrap,
peel off your coat and come on
down on the ground, and I'll
punch your head just as I did
sixty years ago in the alley
back of Porky Evans' barn."
"Ark!" gasped the astonished
Mr. Philander. "Lordy, how good
that sounds! When you're human,
Ark, I love you; but somehow
it seems as though you had forgotten
how to be human for the last
twenty years."
The professor reached out a
thin, trembling old hand through
the darkness until it found his
old friend's shoulder.
"Forgive me, Skinny," he said,
softly. "It hasn't been quite
twenty years, and God alone knows
how hard I have tried to be `human'
for Jane's sake, and yours, too,
since He took my other Jane away."
Another old hand stole up from
Mr. Philander's side to clasp
the one that lay upon his shoulder,
and no other message could better
have translated the one heart
to the other.
They did not speak for some
minutes. The lion below them
paced nervously back and forth.
The third figure in the tree
was hidden by the dense shadows
near the stem. He, too, was silent--motionless
as a graven image.
"You certainly pulled me up
into this tree just in time," said
the professor at last. "I want
to thank you. You saved my life."
"But I didn't pull you up here,
Professor," said Mr. Philander. "Bless
me! The excitement of the moment
quite caused me to forget that
I myself was drawn up here by
some outside agency--there must
be someone or something in this
tree with us."
"Eh?" ejaculated Professor
Porter. "Are you quite positive,
Mr. Philander?"
"Most positive, Professor," replied
Mr. Philander, "and," he added, "I
think we should thank the party.
He may be sitting right next
to you now, Professor."
"Eh? What's that? Tut, tut,
Mr. Philander, tut, tut!" said
Professor Porter, edging cautiously
nearer to Mr. Philander.
Just then it occurred to Tarzan
of the Apes that Numa had loitered
beneath the tree for a sufficient
length of time, so he raised
his young head toward the heavens,
and there rang out upon the terrified
ears of the two old men the awful
warning challenge of the anthropoid.
The two friends, huddled trembling
in their precarious position
on the limb, saw the great lion
halt in his restless pacing as
the blood-curdling cry smote
his ears, and then slink quickly
into the jungle, to be instantly
lost to view.
"Even the lion trembles in
fear," whispered Mr. Philander.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," murmured
Professor Porter, clutching frantically
at Mr. Philander to regain the
balance which the sudden fright
had so perilously endangered.
Unfortunately for them both,
Mr. Philander's center of equilibrium
was at that very moment hanging
upon the ragged edge of nothing,
so that it needed but the gentle
impetus supplied by the additional
weight of Professor Porter's
body to topple the devoted secretary
from the limb.
For a moment they swayed uncertainly,
and then, with mingled and most
unscholarly shrieks, they pitched
headlong from the tree, locked
in frenzied embrace.
It was quite some moments ere
either moved, for both were positive
that any such attempt would reveal
so many breaks and fractures
as to make further progress impossible.
At length Professor Porter
made an attempt to move one leg.
To his surprise, it responded
to his will as in days gone by.
He now drew up its mate and stretched
it forth again.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," he
murmured.
"Thank God, Professor," whispered
Mr. Philander, fervently, "you
are not dead, then?"
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut,
tut," cautioned Professor Porter, "I
do not know with accuracy as
yet."
With infinite solicitude Professor
Porter wiggled his right arm--joy!
It was intact. Breathlessly he
waved his left arm above his
prostrate body--it waved!
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," he
said.
"To whom are you signaling,
Professor?" asked Mr. Philander,
in an excited tone.
Professor Porter deigned to
make no response to this puerile
inquiry. Instead he raised his
head gently from the ground,
nodding it back and forth a half
dozen times.
"Most remarkable," he breathed. "It
remains intact."
Mr. Philander had not moved
from where he had fallen; he
had not dared the attempt. How
indeed could one move when one's
arms and legs and back were broken?
One eye was buried in the soft
loam; the other, rolling sidewise,
was fixed in awe upon the strange
gyrations of Professor Porter.
"How sad!" exclaimed Mr. Philander,
half aloud. "Concussion of the
brain, superinducing total mental
aberration. How very sad indeed!
and for one still so young!"
Professor Porter rolled over
upon his stomach; gingerly he
bowed his back until he resembled
a huge tom cat in proximity to
a yelping dog. Then he sat up
and felt of various portions
of his anatomy.
"They are all here," he exclaimed. "Most
remarkable!"
Whereupon he arose, and, bending
a scathing glance upon the still
prostrate form of Mr. Samuel
T. Philander, he said:
"Tut, tut,
Mr. Philander; this is no time
to indulge in slothful
ease. We must be up and doing."
Mr. Philander lifted his other
eye out of the mud and gazed
in speechless rage at Professor
Porter. Then he attempted to
rise; nor could there have been
any more surprised than he when
his efforts were immediately
crowned with marked success.
He was still bursting with
rage, however, at the cruel injustice
of Professor Porter's insinuation,
and was on the point of rendering
a tart rejoinder when his eyes
fell upon a strange figure standing
a few paces away, scrutinizing
them intently.
Professor Porter had recovered
his shiny silk hat, which he
had brushed carefully upon the
sleeve of his coat and replaced
upon his head. When he saw Mr.
Philander pointing to something
behind him he turned to behold
a giant, naked but for a loin
cloth and a few metal ornaments,
standing motionless before him.
"Good evening, sir!" said
the professor, lifting his
hat.
For reply the giant motioned
them to follow him, and set off
up the beach in the direction
from which they had recently
come.
"I think it the better part
of discretion to follow him," said
Mr. Philander.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," returned
the professor. "A short time
since you were advancing a most
logical argument in substantiation
of your theory that camp lay
directly south of us. I was skeptical,
but you finally convinced me;
so now I am positive that toward
the south we must travel to reach
our friends. Therefore I shall
continue south."
"But, Professor
Porter, this man may know better
than either
of us. He seems to be indigenous
to this part of the world. Let
us at least follow him for a
short distance."
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," repeated
the professor. "I am a difficult
man to convince, but when once
convinced my decision is unalterable.
I shall continue in the proper
direction, if I have to circumambulate
the continent of Africa to reach
my destination."
Further argument was interrupted
by Tarzan, who, seeing that these
strange men were not following
him, had returned to their side.
Again he beckoned to them;
but still they stood in argument.
Presently the ape-man lost
patience with their stupid ignorance.
He grasped the frightened Mr.
Philander by the shoulder, and
before that worthy gentleman
knew whether he was being killed
or merely maimed for life, Tarzan
had tied one end of his rope
securely about Mr. Philander's
neck.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander," remonstrated
Professor Porter; "it is most
unbeseeming in you to submit
to such indignities."
But scarcely were the words
out of his mouth ere he, too,
had been seized and securely
bound by the neck with the same
rope. Then Tarzan set off toward
the north, leading the now thoroughly
frightened professor and his
secretary.
In deathly silence they proceeded
for what seemed hours to the
two tired and hopeless old men;
but presently as they topped
a little rise of ground they
were overjoyed to see the cabin
lying before them, not a hundred
yards distant.
Here Tarzan released them,
and, pointing toward the little
building, vanished into the jungle
beside them.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable!" gasped
the professor. "But you see,
Mr. Philander, that I was quite
right, as usual; and but for
your stubborn willfulness we
should have escaped a series
of most humiliating, not to say
dangerous accidents. Pray allow
yourself to be guided by a more
mature and practical mind hereafter
when in need of wise counsel."
Mr. Samuel T. Philander was
too much relieved at the happy
outcome to their adventure to
take umbrage at the professor's
cruel fling. Instead he grasped
his friend's arm and hastened
him forward in the direction
of the cabin.
It was a much-relieved party
of castaways that found itself
once more united. Dawn discovered
them still recounting their various
adventures and speculating upon
the identity of the strange guardian
and protector they had found
on this savage shore.
Esmeralda was positive that
it was none other than an angel
of the Lord, sent down especially
to watch over them.
"Had you seen him devour the
raw meat of the lion, Esmeralda," laughed
Clayton, "you would have thought
him a very material angel."
"There was nothing heavenly
about his voice," said Jane Porter,
with a little shudder at recollection
of the awful roar which had followed
the killing of the lioness.
"Nor did it precisely comport
with my preconceived ideas of
the dignity of divine messengers," remarked
Professor Porter, "when the--ah--gentleman
tied two highly respectable and
erudite scholars neck to neck
and dragged them through the
jungle as though they had been
cows."
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