The wanderings of the tribe
brought them often near the closed
and silent cabin by the little
land-locked harbor. To Tarzan
this was always a source of never-ending
mystery
and pleasure.
He would peek into the curtained
windows, or, climbing upon the
roof, peer down the black depths
of the chimney in vain endeavor
to solve the unknown wonders
that lay within those strong
walls.
His child-like imagination
pictured wonderful creatures
within, and the very impossibility
of forcing entrance added a thousandfold
to his desire to do so.
He could clamber about the
roof and windows for hours attempting
to discover means of ingress,
but to the door he paid little
attention, for this was apparently
as solid as the walls.
It was in the next visit to
the vicinity, following the adventure
with old Sabor, that, as he approached
the cabin, Tarzan noticed that
from a distance the door appeared
to be an independent part of
the wall in which it was set,
and for the first time it occurred
to him that this might prove
the means of entrance which had
so long eluded him.
He was alone, as was often
the case when he visited the
cabin, for the apes had no love
for it; the story of the thunder-stick
having lost nothing in the telling
during these ten years had quite
surrounded the white man's deserted
abode with an atmosphere of weirdness
and terror for the simians.
The story of his own connection
with the cabin had never been
told him. The language of the
apes had so few words that they
could talk but little of what
they had seen in the cabin, having
no words to accurately describe
either the strange people or
their belongings, and so, long
before Tarzan was old enough
to understand, the subject had
been forgotten by the tribe.
Only in a dim, vague way had
Kala explained to him that his
father had been a strange white
ape, but he did not know that
Kala was not his own mother.
On this day, then, he went
directly to the door and spent
hours examining it and fussing
with the hinges, the knob and
the latch. Finally he stumbled
upon the right combination, and
the door swung creakingly open
before his astonished eyes.
For some minutes he did not
dare venture within, but finally,
as his eyes became accustomed
to the dim light of the interior
he slowly and cautiously entered.
In the middle of the floor
lay a skeleton, every vestige
of flesh gone from the bones
to which still clung the mildewed
and moldered remnants of what
had once been clothing. Upon
the bed lay a similar gruesome
thing, but smaller, while in
a tiny cradle near-by was a third,
a wee mite of a skeleton.
To none of these evidences
of a fearful tragedy of a long
dead day did little Tarzan give
but passing heed. His wild jungle
life had inured him to the sight
of dead and dying animals, and
had he known that he was looking
upon the remains of his own father
and mother he would have been
no more greatly moved.
The furnishings and other contents
of the room it was which riveted
his attention. He examined many
things minutely--strange tools
and weapons, books, paper, clothing--
what little had withstood the
ravages of time in the humid
atmosphere of the jungle coast.
He opened chests and cupboards,
such as did not baffle his small
experience, and in these he found
the contents much better preserved.
Among other things he found
a sharp hunting knife, on the
keen blade of which he immediately
proceeded to cut his finger.
Undaunted he continued his experiments,
finding that he could hack and
hew splinters of wood from the
table and chairs with this new
toy.
For a long time this amused
him, but finally tiring he continued
his explorations. In a cupboard
filled with books he came across
one with brightly colored pictures--it
was a child's illustrated alphabet--
A is for Archer Who shoots
with a bow. B is for Boy, His
first name is Joe.
The pictures interested him
greatly.
There were
many apes with faces similar
to his own, and further
over in the book he found, under "M," some
little monkeys such as he saw
daily flitting through the trees
of his primeval forest. But nowhere
was pictured any of his own people;
in all the book was none that
resembled Kerchak, or Tublat,
or Kala.
At first he tried to pick the
little figures from the leaves,
but he soon saw that they were
not real, though he knew not
what they might be, nor had he
any words to describe them.
The boats, and trains, and
cows and horses were quite meaningless
to him, but not quite so baffling
as the odd little figures which
appeared beneath and between
the colored pictures--some strange
kind of bug he thought they might
be, for many of them had legs
though nowhere could he find
one with eyes and a mouth. It
was his first introduction to
the letters of the alphabet,
and he was over ten years old.
Of course he had never before
seen print, or ever had spoken
with any living thing which had
the remotest idea that such a
thing as a written language existed,
nor ever had he seen anyone reading.
So what wonder that the little
boy was quite at a loss to guess
the meaning of these strange
figures.
Near the middle of the book
he found his old enemy, Sabor,
the lioness, and further on,
coiled Histah, the snake.
Oh, it was most engrossing!
Never before in all his ten years
had he enjoyed anything so much.
So absorbed was he that he did
not note the approaching dusk,
until it was quite upon him and
the figures were blurred.
He put the book back in the
cupboard and closed the door,
for he did not wish anyone else
to find and destroy his treasure,
and as he went out into the gathering
darkness he closed the great
door of the cabin behind him
as it had been before he discovered
the secret of its lock, but before
he left he had noticed the hunting
knife lying where he had thrown
it upon the floor, and this he
picked up and took with him to
show to his fellows.
He had taken scarce a dozen
steps toward the jungle when
a great form rose up before him
from the shadows of a low bush.
At first he thought it was one
of his own people but in another
instant he realized that it was
Bolgani, the huge gorilla.
So close was he that there
was no chance for flight and
little Tarzan knew that he must
stand and fight for his life;
for these great beasts were the
deadly enemies of his tribe,
and neither one nor the other
ever asked or gave quarter.
Had Tarzan been a full-grown
bull ape of the species of his
tribe he would have been more
than a match for the gorilla,
but being only a little English
boy, though enormously muscular
for such, he stood no chance
against his cruel antagonist.
In his veins, though, flowed
the blood of the best of a race
of mighty fighters, and back
of this was the training of his
short lifetime among the fierce
brutes of the jungle.
He knew no fear, as we know
it; his little heart beat the
faster but from the excitement
and exhilaration of adventure.
Had the opportunity presented
itself he would have escaped,
but solely because his judgment
told him he was no match for
the great thing which confronted
him. And since reason showed
him that successful flight was
impossible he met the gorilla
squarely and bravely without
a tremor of a single muscle,
or any sign of panic.
In fact he met the brute midway
in its charge, striking its huge
body with his closed fists and
as futilely as he had been a
fly attacking an elephant. But
in one hand he still clutched
the knife he had found in the
cabin of his father, and as the
brute, striking and biting, closed
upon him the boy accidentally
turned the point toward the hairy
breast. As the knife sank deep
into its body the gorilla shrieked
in pain and rage.
But the boy had learned in
that brief second a use for his
sharp and shining toy, so that,
as the tearing, striking beast
dragged him to earth he plunged
the blade repeatedly and to the
hilt into its breast.
The gorilla, fighting after
the manner of its kind, struck
terrific blows with its open
hand, and tore the flesh at the
boy's throat and chest with its
mighty tusks.
For a moment they rolled upon
the ground in the fierce frenzy
of combat. More and more weakly
the torn and bleeding arm struck
home with the long sharp blade,
then the little figure stiffened
with a spasmodic jerk, and Tarzan,
the young Lord Greystoke, rolled
unconscious upon the dead and
decaying vegetation which carpeted
his jungle home.
A mile back in the forest the
tribe had heard the fierce challenge
of the gorilla, and, as was his
custom when any danger threatened,
Kerchak called his people together,
partly for mutual protection
against a common enemy, since
this gorilla might be but one
of a party of several, and also
to see that all members of the
tribe were accounted for.
It was soon discovered that
Tarzan was missing, and Tublat
was strongly opposed to sending
assistance. Kerchak himself had
no liking for the strange little
waif, so he listened to Tublat,
and, finally, with a shrug of
his shoulders, turned back to
the pile of leaves on which he
had made his bed.
But Kala was of a different
mind; in fact, she had not waited
but to learn that Tarzan was
absent ere she was fairly flying
through the matted branches toward
the point from which the cries
of the gorilla were still plainly
audible.
Darkness had now fallen, and
an early moon was sending its
faint light to cast strange,
grotesque shadows among the dense
foliage of the forest.
Here and there the brilliant
rays penetrated to earth, but
for the most part they only served
to accentuate the Stygian blackness
of the jungle's depths.
Like some huge phantom, Kala
swung noiselessly from tree to
tree; now running nimbly along
a great branch, now swinging
through space at the end of another,
only to grasp that of a farther
tree in her rapid progress toward
the scene of the tragedy her
knowledge of jungle life told
her was being enacted a short
distance before her.
The cries of the gorilla proclaimed
that it was in mortal combat
with some other denizen of the
fierce wood. Suddenly these cries
ceased, and the silence of death
reigned throughout the jungle.
Kala could not understand,
for the voice of Bolgani had
at last been raised in the agony
of suffering and death, but no
sound had come to her by which
she possibly could determine
the nature of his antagonist.
That her little Tarzan could
destroy a great bull gorilla
she knew to be improbable, and
so, as she neared the spot from
which the sounds of the struggle
had come, she moved more warily
and at last slowly and with extreme
caution she traversed the lowest
branches, peering eagerly into
the moon- splashed blackness
for a sign of the combatants.
Presently she came upon them,
lying in a little open space
full under the brilliant light
of the moon--little Tarzan's
torn and bloody form, and beside
it a great bull gorilla, stone
dead.
With a low cry Kala rushed
to Tarzan's side, and gathering
the poor, blood-covered body
to her breast, listened for a
sign of life. Faintly she heard
it--the weak beating of the little
heart.
Tenderly she bore him back
through the inky jungle to where
the tribe lay, and for many days
and nights she sat guard beside
him, bringing him food and water,
and brushing the flies and other
insects from his cruel wounds.
Of medicine or surgery the
poor thing knew nothing. She
could but lick the wounds, and
thus she kept them cleansed,
that healing nature might the
more quickly do her work.
At first Tarzan would eat nothing,
but rolled and tossed in a wild
delirium of fever. All he craved
was water, and this she brought
him in the only way she could,
bearing it in her own mouth.
No human mother could have
shown more unselfish and sacrificing
devotion than did this poor,
wild brute for the little orphaned
waif whom fate had thrown into
her keeping.
At last the fever abated and
the boy commenced to mend. No
word of complaint passed his
tight set lips, though the pain
of his wounds was excruciating.
A portion of his chest was
laid bare to the ribs, three
of which had been broken by the
mighty blows of the gorilla.
One arm was nearly severed by
the giant fangs, and a great
piece had been torn from his
neck, exposing his jugular vein,
which the cruel jaws had missed
but by a miracle.
With the stoicism of the brutes
who had raised him he endured
his suffering quietly, preferring
to crawl away from the others
and lie huddled in some clump
of tall grasses rather than to
show his misery before their
eyes.
Kala, alone, he was glad to
have with him, but now that he
was better she was gone longer
at a time, in search of food;
for the devoted animal had scarcely
eaten enough to support her own
life while Tarzan had been so
low, and was in consequence,
reduced to a mere shadow of her
former self.
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