With the report of his gun D'Arnot
saw the door fly open and the
figure of a man pitch headlong
within onto the
cabin floor.
The Frenchman in his panic
raised his gun to fire again
into the prostrate form, but
suddenly in the half dusk of
the open door he saw that the
man was white and in another
instant realized that he had
shot his friend and protector,
Tarzan of the Apes.
With a cry of anguish D'Arnot
sprang to the ape-man's side,
and kneeling, lifted the latter's
head in his arms--calling Tarzan's
name aloud.
There was no response, and
then D'Arnot placed his ear above
the man's heart. To his joy he
heard its steady beating beneath.
Carefully he lifted Tarzan
to the cot, and then, after closing
and bolting the door, he lighted
one of the lamps and examined
the wound.
The bullet had struck a glancing
blow upon the skull. There was
an ugly flesh wound, but no signs
of a fracture of the skull.
D'Arnot breathed a sigh of
relief, and went about bathing
the blood from Tarzan's face.
Soon the cool water revived
him, and presently he opened
his eyes to look in questioning
surprise at D'Arnot.
The latter had bound the wound
with pieces of cloth, and as
he saw that Tarzan had regained
consciousness he arose and going
to the table wrote a message,
which he handed to the ape-man,
explaining the terrible mistake
he had made and how thankful
he was that the wound was not
more serious.
Tarzan, after reading the message,
sat on the edge of the couch
and laughed.
"It is nothing," he
said in French, and then, his
vocabulary
failing him, he wrote:
You should have seen what Bolgani
did to me, and Kerchak, and Terkoz,
before I killed them--then you
would laugh at such a little
scratch.
D'Arnot handed Tarzan the two
messages that had been left for
him.
Tarzan read the first one through
with a look of sorrow on his
face. The second one he turned
over and over, searching for
an opening--he had never seen
a sealed envelope before. At
length he handed it to D'Arnot.
The Frenchman had been watching
him, and knew that Tarzan was
puzzled over the envelope. How
strange it seemed that to a full-grown
white man an envelope was a mystery.
D'Arnot opened it and handed
the letter back to Tarzan.
Sitting on a camp stool the
ape-man spread the written sheet
before him and read:
TO TARZAN OF THE APES:
Before I leave let me add my
thanks to those of Mr. Clayton
for the kindness you have shown
in permitting us the use of your
cabin.
That you never came to make
friends with us has been a great
regret to us. We should have
liked so much to have seen and
thanked our host.
There is another I should like
to thank also, but he did not
come back, though I cannot believe
that he is dead.
I do not know his name. He
is the great white giant who
wore the diamond locket upon
his breast.
If you know him and can speak
his language carry my thanks
to him, and tell him that I waited
seven days for him to return.
Tell him, also, that in my
home in America, in the city
of Baltimore, there will always
be a welcome for him if he cares
to come.
I found a note you wrote me
lying among the leaves beneath
a tree near the cabin. I do not
know how you learned to love
me, who have never spoken to
me, and I am very sorry if it
is true, for I have already given
my heart to another.
But know that I am always your
friend, JANE PORTER.
Tarzan sat with gaze fixed
upon the floor for nearly an
hour. It was evident to him from
the notes that they did not know
that he and Tarzan of the Apes
were one and the same.
"I have given my heart to another," he
repeated over and over again
to himself.
Then she did not love him!
How could she have pretended
love, and raised him to such
a pinnacle of hope only to cast
him down to such utter depths
of despair!
Maybe her kisses were only
signs of friendship. How did
he know, who knew nothing of
the customs of human beings?
Suddenly he arose, and, bidding
D'Arnot good night as he had
learned to do, threw himself
upon the couch of ferns that
had been Jane Porter's.
D'Arnot extinguished the lamp,
and lay down upon the cot.
For a week they did little
but rest, D'Arnot coaching Tarzan
in French. At the end of that
time the two men could converse
quite easily.
One night, as they were sitting
within the cabin before retiring,
Tarzan turned to D'Arnot.
"Where is America?" he
said.
D'Arnot pointed toward the
northwest.
"Many thousands of miles across
the ocean," he replied. "Why?"
"I am going
there."
D'Arnot shook his head.
"It is impossible, my friend," he
said.
Tarzan rose, and, going to
one of the cupboards, returned
with a well-thumbed geography.
Turning to a map of the world,
he said:
"I have never
quite understood all this;
explain it to me, please."
When D'Arnot had done so, showing
him that the blue represented
all the water on the earth, and
the bits of other colors the
continents and islands, Tarzan
asked him to point out the spot
where they now were.
D'Arnot did so.
"Now point out America," said
Tarzan.
And as D'Arnot placed his finger
upon North America, Tarzan smiled
and laid his palm upon the page,
spanning the great ocean that
lay between the two continents.
"You see it is not so very
far," he said; "scarce the width
of my hand."
D'Arnot laughed. How could
he make the man understand?
Then he took a pencil and made
a tiny point upon the shore of
Africa.
"This little mark," he said, "is
many times larger upon this map
than your cabin is upon the earth.
Do you see now how very far it
is?"
Tarzan thought for a long time.
"Do any white men live in Africa?" he
asked.
"Yes."
"Where are
the nearest?"
D'Arnot pointed out a spot
on the shore just north of them.
"So close?" asked
Tarzan, in surprise.
"Yes," said D'Arnot; "but
it is not close."
"Have they
big boats to cross the ocean?"
"Yes."
"We shall go there to-morrow," announced
Tarzan.
Again D'Arnot smiled and shook
his head.
"It is too
far. We should die long before
we reached them."
"Do you wish to stay here then
forever?" asked Tarzan.
"No," said
D'Arnot.
"Then we shall
start to-morrow. I do not like
it here longer.
I should rather die than remain
here."
"Well," answered D'Arnot, with
a shrug, "I do not know, my friend,
but that I also would rather
die than remain here. If you
go, I shall go with you."
"It is settled then," said
Tarzan. "I shall start for America
to-morrow."
"How will you get to America
without money?" asked D'Arnot.
"What is money?" inquired
Tarzan.
It took a long time to make
him understand even imperfectly.
"How do men get money?" he
asked at last.
"They work
for it."
"Very well.
I will work for it, then."
"No, my friend," returned D'Arnot, "you
need not worry about money, nor
need you work for it. I have
enough money for two--enough
for twenty. Much more than is
good for one man and you shall
have all you need if ever we
reach civilization."
So on the following day they
started north along the shore.
Each man carrying a rifle and
ammunition, beside bedding and
some food and cooking utensils.
The latter seemed to Tarzan
a most useless encumbrance, so
he threw his away.
"But you must learn to eat
cooked food, my friend," remonstrated
D'Arnot. "No civilized men eat
raw flesh."
"There will be time enough
when I reach civilization," said
Tarzan. "I do not like the things
and they only spoil the taste
of good meat."
For a month they traveled north.
Sometimes finding food in plenty
and again going hungry for days.
They saw no signs of natives
nor were they molested by wild
beasts. Their journey was a miracle
of ease.
Tarzan asked questions and
learned rapidly. D'Arnot taught
him many of the refinements of
civilization--even to the use
of knife and fork; but sometimes
Tarzan would drop them in disgust
and grasp his food in his strong
brown hands, tearing it with
his molars like a wild beast.
Then D'Arnot would expostulate
with him, saying:
"You must not
eat like a brute, Tarzan, while
I am trying to
make a gentleman of you. MON
DIEU! Gentlemen do not thus--it
is terrible."
Tarzan would grin sheepishly
and pick up his knife and fork
again, but at heart he hated
them.
On the journey he told D'Arnot
about the great chest he had
seen the sailors bury; of how
he had dug it up and carried
it to the gathering place of
the apes and buried it there.
"It must be the treasure chest
of Professor Porter," said D'Arnot. "It
is too bad, but of course you
did not know."
Then Tarzan recalled the letter
written by Jane to her friend--the
one he had stolen when they first
came to his cabin, and now he
knew what was in the chest and
what it meant to Jane.
"To-morrow we shall go back
after it," he announced to D'Arnot.
"Go back?" exclaimed D'Arnot. "But,
my dear fellow, we have now been
three weeks upon the march. It
would require three more to return
to the treasure, and then, with
that enormous weight which required,
you say, four sailors to carry,
it would be months before we
had again reached this spot."
"It must be done, my friend," insisted
Tarzan. "You may go on toward
civilization, and I will return
for the treasure. I can go very
much faster alone."
"I have a better plan, Tarzan," exclaimed
D'Arnot. "We shall go on together
to the nearest settlement, and
there we will charter a boat
and sail back down the coast
for the treasure and so transport
it easily. That will be safer
and quicker and also not require
us to be separated. What do you
think of that plan?"
"Very well," said Tarzan. "The
treasure will be there whenever
we go for it; and while I could
fetch it now, and catch up with
you in a moon or two, I shall
feel safer for you to know that
you are not alone on the trail.
When I see how helpless you are,
D'Arnot, I often wonder how the
human race has escaped annihilation
all these ages which you tell
me about. Why, Sabor, single
handed, could exterminate a thousand
of you."
D'Arnot laughed.
"You will think
more highly of your genus when
you have seen
its armies and navies, its great
cities, and its mighty engineering
works. Then you will realize
that it is mind, and not muscle,
that makes the human animal greater
than the mighty beasts of your
jungle.
"Alone and
unarmed, a single man is no
match for any of the
larger beasts; but if ten men
were together, they would combine
their wits and their muscles
against their savage enemies,
while the beasts, being unable
to reason, would never think
of combining against the men.
Otherwise, Tarzan of the Apes,
how long would you have lasted
in the savage wilderness?"
"You are right, D'Arnot," replied
Tarzan, "for if Kerchak had come
to Tublat's aid that night at
the Dum-Dum, there would have
been an end of me. But Kerchak
could never think far enough
ahead to take advantage of any
such opportunity. Even Kala,
my mother, could never plan ahead.
She simply ate what she needed
when she needed it, and if the
supply was very scarce, even
though she found plenty for several
meals, she would never gather
any ahead.
"I remember
that she used to think it very
silly of me to
burden myself with extra food
upon the march, though she was
quite glad to eat it with me,
if the way chanced to be barren
of sustenance."
"Then you knew your mother,
Tarzan?" asked D'Arnot, in surprise.
"Yes. She was
a great, fine ape, larger than
I, and weighing
twice as much."
"And your father?" asked
D'Arnot.
"I did not
know him. Kala told me he was
a white ape, and hairless
like myself. I know now that
he must have been a white man."
D'Arnot looked long and earnestly
at his companion.
"Tarzan," he said at length, "it
is impossible that the ape, Kala,
was your mother. If such a thing
can be, which I doubt, you would
have inherited some of the characteristics
of the ape, but you have not--you
are pure man, and, I should say,
the offspring of highly bred
and intelligent parents. Have
you not the slightest clue to
your past?"
"Not the slightest," replied
Tarzan.
"No writings
in the cabin that might have
told something of
the lives of its original inmates?"
"I have read
everything that was in the
cabin with the exception
of one book which I know now
to be written in a language other
than English. Possibly you can
read it."
Tarzan fished the little black
diary from the bottom of his
quiver, and handed it to his
companion.
D'Arnot glanced at the title
page.
"It is the diary of John Clayton,
Lord Greystoke, an English nobleman,
and it is written in French," he
said.
Then he proceeded to read the
diary that had been written over
twenty years before, and which
recorded the details of the story
which we already know--the story
of adventure, hardships and sorrow
of John Clayton and his wife
Alice, from the day they left
England until an hour before
he was struck down by Kerchak.
D'Arnot read aloud. At times
his voice broke, and he was forced
to stop reading for the pitiful
hopelessness that spoke between
the lines.
Occasionally he glanced at
Tarzan; but the ape-man sat upon
his haunches, like a carven image,
his eyes fixed upon the ground.
Only when the little babe was
mentioned did the tone of the
diary alter from the habitual
note of despair which had crept
into it by degrees after the
first two months upon the shore.
Then the passages were tinged
with a subdued happiness that
was even sadder than the rest.
One entry showed an almost
hopeful spirit.
To-day our little boy is six
months old. He is sitting in
Alice's lap beside the table
where I am writing--a happy,
healthy, perfect child.
Somehow, even against all reason,
I seem to see him a grown man,
taking his father's place in
the world--the second John Clayton--and
bringing added honors to the
house of Greystoke.
There--as though to give my
prophecy the weight of his endorsement--he
has grabbed my pen in his chubby
fists and with his inkbegrimed
little fingers has placed the
seal of his tiny finger prints
upon the page.
And there, on the margin of
the page, were the partially
blurred imprints of four wee
fingers and the outer half of
the thumb.
When D'Arnot had finished the
diary the two men sat in silence
for some minutes.
"Well! Tarzan of the Apes,
what think you?" asked D'Arnot. "Does
not this little book clear up
the mystery of your parentage?
"Why man, you
are Lord Greystoke."
"The book speaks of but one
child," he replied. "Its little
skeleton lay in the crib, where
it died crying for nourishment,
from the first time I entered
the cabin until Professor Porter's
party buried it, with its father
and mother, beside the cabin.
"No, that was the babe the
book speaks of--and the mystery
of my origin is deeper than before,
for I have thought much of late
of the possibility of that cabin
having been my birthplace. I
am afraid that Kala spoke the
truth," he concluded sadly.
D'Arnot shook his head. He
was unconvinced, and in his mind
had sprung the determination
to prove the correctness of his
theory, for he had discovered
the key which alone could unlock
the mystery, or consign it forever
to the realms of the unfathomable.
A week later the two men came
suddenly upon a clearing in the
forest.
In the distance were several
buildings surrounded by a strong
palisade. Between them and the
enclosure stretched a cultivated
field in which a number of negroes
were working.
The two halted at the edge
of the jungle.
Tarzan fitted his bow with
a poisoned arrow, but D'Arnot
placed a hand upon his arm.
"What would you do, Tarzan?" he
asked.
"They will try to kill us if
they see us," replied Tarzan. "I
prefer to be the killer."
"Maybe they are friends," suggested
D'Arnot.
"They are black," was
Tarzan's only reply.
And again he drew back his
shaft.
"You must not, Tarzan!" cried
D'Arnot. "White men do not kill
wantonly. MON DIEU! but you have
much to learn.
"I pity the
ruffian who crosses you, my
wild man, when I take
you to Paris. I will have my
hands full keeping your neck
from beneath the guillotine."
Tarzan lowered his bow and
smiled.
"I do not know
why I should kill the blacks
back there in
my jungle, yet not kill them
here. Suppose Numa, the lion,
should spring out upon us, I
should say, then, I presume:
Good morning, Monsieur Numa,
how is Madame Numa; eh?"
"Wait until the blacks spring
upon you," replied D'Arnot, "then
you may kill them. Do not assume
that men are your enemies until
they prove it."
"Come," said Tarzan, "let us
go and present ourselves to be
killed," and he started straight
across the field, his head high
held and the tropical sun beating
upon his smooth, brown skin.
Behind him came D'Arnot, clothed
in some garments which had been
discarded at the cabin by Clayton
when the officers of the French
cruiser had fitted him out in
more presentable fashion.
Presently one of the blacks
looked up, and beholding Tarzan,
turned, shrieking, toward the
palisade.
In an instant the air was filled
with cries of terror from the
fleeing gardeners, but before
any had reached the palisade
a white man emerged from the
enclosure, rifle in hand, to
discover the cause of the commotion.
What he saw brought his rifle
to his shoulder, and Tarzan of
the Apes would have felt cold
lead once again had not D'Arnot
cried loudly to the man with
the leveled gun:
"Do not fire!
We are friends!"
"Halt, then!" was
the reply.
"Stop, Tarzan!" cried D'Arnot. "He
thinks we are enemies."
Tarzan dropped into a walk,
and together he and D'Arnot advanced
toward the white man by the gate.
The latter eyed them in puzzled
bewilderment.
"What manner of men are you?" he
asked, in French.
"White men," replied D'Arnot. "We
have been lost in the jungle
for a long time."
The man had lowered his rifle
and now advanced with outstretched
hand.
"I am Father Constantine of
the French Mission here," he
said, "and I am glad to welcome
you."
"This is Monsieur Tarzan, Father
Constantine," replied D'Arnot,
indicating the ape-man; and as
the priest extended his hand
to Tarzan, D'Arnot added: "and
I am Paul D'Arnot, of the French
Navy."
Father Constantine took the
hand which Tarzan extended in
imitation of the priest's act,
while the latter took in the
superb physique and handsome
face in one quick, keen glance.
And thus came Tarzan of the
Apes to the first outpost of
civilization.
For a week they remained there,
and the ape-man, keenly observant,
learned much of the ways of men;
meanwhile black women sewed white
duck garments for himself and
D'Arnot so that they might continue
their journey properly clothed.
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