The following morning, Tarzan,
lame and sore from the wounds
of his battle with Terkoz, set
out toward the west
and the seacoast.
He traveled very slowly, sleeping
in the jungle at night, and reaching
his cabin late the following
morning.
For several days he moved about
but little, only enough to gather
what fruits and nuts he required
to satisfy the demands of hunger.
In ten days he was quite sound
again, except for a terrible,
half-healed scar, which, starting
above his left eye ran across
the top of his head, ending at
the right ear. It was the mark
left by Terkoz when he had torn
the scalp away.
During his convalescence Tarzan
tried to fashion a mantle from
the skin of Sabor, which had
lain all this time in the cabin.
But he found the hide had dried
as stiff as a board, and as he
knew naught of tanning, he was
forced to abandon his cherished
plan.
Then he determined to filch
what few garments he could from
one of the black men of Mbonga's
village, for Tarzan of the Apes
had decided to mark his evolution
from the lower orders in every
possible manner, and nothing
seemed to him a more distinguishing
badge of manhood than ornaments
and clothing.
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.
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