As it was now quite light, the
party, none of whom had eaten
or slept since the previous morning,
began to bestir themselves to
prepare food.
The mutineers of the Arrow
had landed a small supply of
dried meats, canned soups and
vegetables, crackers, flour,
tea, and coffee for the five
they had marooned, and these
were hurriedly drawn upon to
satisfy the craving of long-famished
appetites.
The next task was to make the
cabin habitable, and to this
end it was decided to at once
remove the gruesome relics of
the tragedy which had taken place
there on some bygone day.
Professor Porter and Mr. Philander
were deeply interested in examining
the skeletons. The two larger,
they stated, had belonged to
a male and female of one of the
higher white races.
The smallest skeleton was given
but passing attention, as its
location, in the crib, left no
doubt as to its having been the
infant offspring of this unhappy
couple.
As they were preparing the
skeleton of the man for burial,
Clayton discovered a massive
ring which had evidently encircled
the man's finger at the time
of his death, for one of the
slender bones of the hand still
lay within the golden bauble.
Picking it up to examine it,
Clayton gave a cry of astonishment,
for the ring bore the crest of
the house of Greystoke.
At the same time, Jane discovered
the books in the cupboard, and
on opening the fly-leaf of one
of them saw the name, JOHN CLAYTON,
LONDON. In a second book which
she hurriedly examined was the
single name, GREYSTOKE.
"Why, Mr. Clayton," she cried, "what
does this mean? Here are the
names of some of your own people
in these books."
"And here," he replied gravely, "is
the great ring of the house of
Greystoke which has been lost
since my uncle, John Clayton,
the former Lord Greystoke, disappeared,
presumably lost at sea."
"But how do you account for
these things being here, in this
savage African jungle?" exclaimed
the girl.
"There is but one way to account
for it, Miss Porter," said Clayton. "The
late Lord Greystoke was not drowned.
He died here in this cabin and
this poor thing upon the floor
is all that is mortal of him."
"Then this must have been Lady
Greystoke," said Jane reverently,
indicating the poor mass of bones
upon the bed.
"The beautiful Lady Alice," replied
Clayton, "of whose many virtues
and remarkable personal charms
I often have heard my mother
and father speak. Poor woman," he
murmured sadly.
With deep reverence and solemnity
the bodies of the late Lord and
Lady Greystoke were buried beside
their little African cabin, and
between them was placed the tiny
skeleton of the baby of Kala,
the ape.
As Mr. Philander was placing
the frail bones of the infant
in a bit of sail cloth, he examined
the skull minutely. Then he called
Professor Porter to his side,
and the two argued in low tones
for several minutes.
"Most remarkable, most remarkable," said
Professor Porter.
"Bless me," said Mr. Philander, "we
must acquaint Mr. Clayton with
our discovery at once."
"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut,
tut!" remonstrated Professor
Archimedes Q. Porter. "`Let the
dead past bury its dead.'"
And so the white-haired old
man repeated the burial service
over this strange grave, while
his four companions stood with
bowed and uncovered heads about
him.
From the trees Tarzan of the
Apes watched the solemn ceremony;
but most of all he watched the
sweet face and graceful figure
of Jane Porter.
In his savage, untutored breast
new emotions were stirring. He
could not fathom them. He wondered
why he felt so great an interest
in these people--why he had gone
to such pains to save the three
men. But he did not wonder why
he had torn Sabor from the tender
flesh of the strange girl.
Surely the men were stupid
and ridiculous and cowardly.
Even Manu, the monkey, was more
intelligent than they. If these
were creatures of his own kind
he was doubtful if his past pride
in blood was warranted.
But the girl, ah--that was
a different matter. He did not
reason here. He knew that she
was created to be protected,
and that he was created to protect
her.
He wondered why they had dug
a great hole in the ground merely
to bury dry bones. Surely there
was no sense in that; no one
wanted to steal dry bones.
Had there been meat upon them
he could have understood, for
thus alone might one keep his
meat from Dango, the hyena, and
the other robbers of the jungle.
When the grave had been filled
with earth the little party turned
back toward the cabin, and Esmeralda,
still weeping copiously for the
two she had never heard of before
today, and who had been dead
twenty years, chanced to glance
toward the harbor. Instantly
her tears ceased.
"Look at them low down white
trash out there!" she shrilled,
pointing toward the Arrow. "They-all's
a desecrating us, right here
on this here perverted island."
And, sure enough, the Arrow
was being worked toward the open
sea, slowly, through the harbor's
entrance.
"They promised to leave us
firearms and ammunition," said
Clayton. "The merciless beasts!"
"It is the work of that fellow
they call Snipes, I am sure," said
Jane. "King was a scoundrel,
but he had a little sense of
humanity. If they had not killed
him I know that he would have
seen that we were properly provided
for before they left us to our
fate."
"I regret that they did not
visit us before sailing," said
Professor Porter. "I had proposed
requesting them to leave the
treasure with us, as I shall
be a ruined man if that is lost."
Jane looked at her father sadly.
"Never mind, dear," she said. "It
wouldn't have done any good,
because it is solely for the
treasure that they killed their
officers and landed us upon this
awful shore."
"Tut, tut, child, tut, tut!" replied
Professor Porter. "You are a
good child, but inexperienced
in practical matters," and Professor
Porter turned and walked slowly
away toward the jungle, his hands
clasped beneath his long coat
tails and his eyes bent upon
the ground.
His daughter watched him with
a pathetic smile upon her lips,
and then turning to Mr. Philander,
she whispered:
"Please don't
let him wander off again as
he did yesterday.
We depend upon you, you know,
to keep a close watch upon him."
"He becomes more difficult
to handle each day," replied
Mr. Philander, with a sigh and
a shake of his head. "I presume
he is now off to report to the
directors of the Zoo that one
of their lions was at large last
night. Oh, Miss Jane, you don't
know what I have to contend with."
"Yes, I do,
Mr. Philander; but while we
all love him, you
alone are best fitted to manage
him; for, regardless of what
he may say to you, he respects
your great learning, and, therefore,
has immense confidence in your
judgment. The poor dear cannot
differentiate between erudition
and wisdom."
Mr. Philander, with a mildly
puzzled expression on his face,
turned to pursue Professor Porter,
and in his mind he was revolving
the question of whether he should
feel complimented or aggrieved
at Miss Porter's rather backhanded
compliment.
Tarzan had seen the consternation
depicted upon the faces of the
little group as they witnessed
the departure of the Arrow; so,
as the ship was a wonderful novelty
to him in addition, he determined
to hasten out to the point of
land at the north of the harbor's
mouth and obtain a nearer view
of the boat, as well as to learn,
if possible, the direction of
its flight.
Swinging through the trees
with great speed, he reached
the point only a moment after
the ship had passed out of the
harbor, so that he obtained an
excellent view of the wonders
of this strange, floating house.
There were some twenty men
running hither and thither about
the deck, pulling and hauling
on ropes.
A light land breeze was blowing,
and the ship had been worked
through the harbor's mouth under
scant sail, but now that they
had cleared the point every available
shred of canvas was being spread
that she might stand out to sea
as handily as possible.
Tarzan watched the graceful
movements of the ship in rapt
admiration, and longed to be
aboard her. Presently his keen
eyes caught the faintest suspicion
of smoke on the far northern
horizon, and he wondered over
the cause of such a thing out
on the great water.
About the same time the look-out
on the Arrow must have discerned
it, for in a few minutes Tarzan
saw the sails being shifted and
shortened. The ship came about,
and presently he knew that she
was beating back toward land.
A man at the bows was constantly
heaving into the sea a rope to
the end of which a small object
was fastened. Tarzan wondered
what the purpose of this action
might be.
At last the ship came up directly
into the wind; the anchor was
lowered; down came the sails.
There was great scurrying about
on deck.
A boat was lowered, and in
it a great chest was placed.
Then a dozen sailors bent to
the oars and pulled rapidly toward
the point where Tarzan crouched
in the branches of a tree.
In the stern of the boat, as
it drew nearer, Tarzan saw the
rat-faced man.
It was but a few minutes later
that the boat touched the beach.
The men jumped out and lifted
the great chest to the sand.
They were on the north side of
the point so that their presence
was concealed from those at the
cabin.
The men argued angrily for
a moment. Then the rat-faced
one, with several companions,
ascended the low bluff on which
stood the tree that concealed
Tarzan. They looked about for
several minutes.
"Here is a good place," said
the rat-faced sailor, indicating
a spot beneath Tarzan's tree.
"It is as good as any," replied
one of his companions. "If they
catch us with the treasure aboard
it will all be confiscated anyway.
We might as well bury it here
on the chance that some of us
will escape the gallows to come
back and enjoy it later."
The rat-faced one now called
to the men who had remained at
the boat, and they came slowly
up the bank carrying picks and
shovels.
"Hurry, you!" cried
Snipes.
"Stow it!" retorted one of
the men, in a surly tone. "You're
no admiral, you damned shrimp."
"I'm Cap'n here, though, I'll
have you to understand, you swab," shrieked
Snipes, with a volley of frightful
oaths.
"Steady, boys," cautioned one
of the men who had not spoken
before. "It ain't goin' to get
us nothing by fightin' amongst
ourselves."
"Right enough," replied the
sailor who had resented Snipes'
autocratic tones; "but it ain't
a-goin' to get nobody nothin'
to put on airs in this bloomin'
company neither."
"You fellows dig here," said
Snipes, indicating a spot beneath
the tree. "And while you're diggin',
Peter kin be a-makin' of a map
of the location so's we kin find
it again. You, Tom, and Bill,
take a couple more down and fetch
up the chest."
"Wot are you a-goin' to do?" asked
he of the previous altercation. "Just
boss?"
"Git busy there," growled Snipes. "You
didn't think your Cap'n was a-goin'
to dig with a shovel, did you?"
The men all looked up angrily.
None of them liked Snipes, and
this disagreeable show of authority
since he had murdered King, the
real head and ringleader of the
mutineers, had only added fuel
to the flames of their hatred.
"Do you mean to say that you
don't intend to take a shovel,
and lend a hand with this work?
Your shoulder's not hurt so all-fired
bad as that," said Tarrant, the
sailor who had before spoken.
"Not by a damned sight," replied
Snipes, fingering the butt of
his revolver nervously.
"Then, by God," replied Tarrant, "if
you won't take a shovel you'll
take a pickax."
With the words he raised his
pick above his head, and, with
a mighty blow, he buried the
point in Snipes' brain.
For a moment the men stood
silently looking at the result
of their fellow's grim humor.
Then one of them spoke.
"Served the skunk jolly well
right," he said.
One of the others commenced
to ply his pick to the ground.
The soil was soft and he threw
aside the pick and grasped a
shovel; then the others joined
him. There was no further comment
on the killing, but the men worked
in a better frame of mind than
they had since Snipes had assumed
command.
When they had a trench of ample
size to bury the chest, Tarrant
suggested that they enlarge it
and inter Snipes' body on top
of the chest.
"It might 'elp fool any as
'appened to be diggin' 'ereabouts," he
explained.
The others saw the cunning
of the suggestion, and so the
trench was lengthened to accommodate
the corpse, and in the center
a deeper hole was excavated for
the box, which was first wrapped
in sailcloth and then lowered
to its place, which brought its
top about a foot below the bottom
of the grave. Earth was shovelled
in and tramped down about the
chest until the bottom of the
grave showed level and uniform.
Two of the men rolled the rat-faced
corpse unceremoniously into the
grave, after first stripping
it of its weapons and various
other articles which the several
members of the party coveted
for their own.
They then filled the grave
with earth and tramped upon it
until it would hold no more.
The balance of the loose earth
was thrown far and wide, and
a mass of dead undergrowth spread
in as natural a manner as possible
over the new-made grave to obliterate
all signs of the ground having
been disturbed.
Their work done the sailors
returned to the small boat, and
pulled off rapidly toward the
Arrow.
The breeze had increased considerably,
and as the smoke upon the horizon
was now plainly discernible in
considerable volume, the mutineers
lost no time in getting under
full sail and bearing away toward
the southwest.
Tarzan, an interested spectator
of all that had taken place,
sat speculating on the strange
actions of these peculiar creatures.
Men were indeed more foolish
and more cruel than the beasts
of the jungle! How fortunate
was he who lived in the peace
and security of the great forest!
Tarzan wondered what the chest
they had buried contained. If
they did not want it why did
they not merely throw it into
the water? That would have been
much easier.
Ah, he thought, but they do
want it. They have hidden it
here because they intend returning
for it later.
Tarzan dropped to the ground
and commenced to examine the
earth about the excavation. He
was looking to see if these creatures
had dropped anything which he
might like to own. Soon he discovered
a spade hidden by the underbrush
which they had laid upon the
grave.
He seized it and attempted
to use it as he had seen the
sailors do. It was awkward work
and hurt his bare feet, but he
persevered until he had partially
uncovered the body. This he dragged
from the grave and laid to one
side.
Then he continued digging until
he had unearthed the chest. This
also he dragged to the side of
the corpse. Then he filled in
the smaller hole below the grave,
replaced the body and the earth
around and above it, covered
it over with underbrush, and
returned to the chest.
Four sailors had sweated beneath
the burden of its weight --Tarzan
of the Apes picked it up as though
it had been an empty packing
case, and with the spade slung
to his back by a piece of rope,
carried it off into the densest
part of the jungle.
He could not well negotiate
the trees with his awkward burden,
but he kept to the trails, and
so made fairly good time.
For several hours he traveled
a little north of east until
he came to an impenetrable wall
of matted and tangled vegetation.
Then he took to the lower branches,
and in another fifteen minutes
he emerged into the amphitheater
of the apes, where they met in
council, or to celebrate the
rites of the Dum-Dum.
Near the center of the clearing,
and not far from the drum, or
altar, he commenced to dig. This
was harder work than turning
up the freshly excavated earth
at the grave, but Tarzan of the
Apes was persevering and so he
kept at his labor until he was
rewarded by seeing a hole sufficiently
deep to receive the chest and
effectually hide it from view.
Why had he gone to all this
labor without knowing the value
of the contents of the chest?
Tarzan of the Apes had a man's
figure and a man's brain, but
he was an ape by training and
environment. His brain told him
that the chest contained something
valuable, or the men would not
have hidden it. His training
had taught him to imitate whatever
was new and unusual, and now
the natural curiosity, which
is as common to men as to apes,
prompted him to open the chest
and examine its contents.
But the heavy lock and massive
iron bands baffled both his cunning
and his immense strength, so
that he was compelled to bury
the chest without having his
curiosity satisfied.
By the time Tarzan had hunted
his way back to the vicinity
of the cabin, feeding as he went,
it was quite dark.
Within the little building
a light was burning, for Clayton
had found an unopened tin of
oil which had stood intact for
twenty years, a part of the supplies
left with the Claytons by Black
Michael. The lamps also were
still useable, and thus the interior
of the cabin appeared as bright
as day to the astonished Tarzan.
He had often wondered at the
exact purpose of the lamps. His
reading and the pictures had
told him what they were, but
he had no idea of how they could
be made to produce the wondrous
sunlight that some of his pictures
had portrayed them as diffusing
upon all surrounding objects.
As he approached the window
nearest the door he saw that
the cabin had been divided into
two rooms by a rough partition
of boughs and sailcloth.
In the front room were the
three men; the two older deep
in argument, while the younger,
tilted back against the wall
on an improvised stool, was deeply
engrossed in reading one of Tarzan's
books.
Tarzan was not particularly
interested in the men, however,
so he sought the other window.
There was the girl. How beautiful
her features! How delicate her
snowy skin!
She was writing at Tarzan's
own table beneath the window.
Upon a pile of grasses at the
far side of the room lay the
Negress asleep.
For an hour Tarzan feasted
his eyes upon her while she wrote.
How he longed to speak to her,
but he dared not attempt it,
for he was convinced that, like
the young man, she would not
understand him, and he feared,
too, that he might frighten her
away.
At length she arose, leaving
her manuscript upon the table.
She went to the bed upon which
had been spread several layers
of soft grasses. These she rearranged.
Then she loosened the soft
mass of golden hair which crowned
her head. Like a shimmering waterfall
turned to burnished metal by
a dying sun it fell about her
oval face; in waving lines, below
her waist it tumbled.
Tarzan was spellbound. Then
she extinguished the lamp and
all within the cabin was wrapped
in Cimmerian darkness.
Still Tarzan watched. Creeping
close beneath the window he waited,
listening, for half an hour.
At last he was rewarded by the
sounds of the regular breathing
within which denotes sleep.
Cautiously he intruded his
hand between the meshes of the
lattice until his whole arm was
within the cabin. Carefully he
felt upon the desk. At last he
grasped the manuscript upon which
Jane Porter had been writing,
and as cautiously withdrew his
arm and hand, holding the precious
treasure.
Tarzan folded the sheets into
a small parcel which he tucked
into the quiver with his arrows.
Then he melted away into the
jungle as softly and as noiselessly
as a shadow.
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