 CHAPTER XIII The following morning, Tarzan lame and sore for the wounds of his battle with Tarkovs, set out toward the west and the sea coast. He travelled very slowly, sleeping in the jungle at night, in 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, floating above his left eye, ran across the top of his head, ending at the right ear. It was the mark left by Drakoz 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 not 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 Mavanga'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 homemade scabbard in which hung his father's hunting-knife. The long bow which had been Coulangas hung over his left shoulder. The young Lord Grey-Stuck was indeed a strange and warlike 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 imperfect 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 ape-hood. 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 T'Koz, Tarzan set off one morning toward Mabonga'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 an 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 fellow's turn to see his struggling body rise 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 breech cloth 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. Now we 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. Morando, 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 Morando'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 mobonga 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 Morando you ran away and left him. You are cowards. Scarcely had mobonga 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 mobonga shudder, for there, turning and twisting in the air, came the dead body of Morando 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 eight of the offering of food which the blacks had made to appease his wrath. Before he left he carried the body of Morando 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 Morando 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? Or 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 Mabonga that in addition to the food offering there should also be laid out an offering of arrows for this Munongo Kiwati, 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-dobbed arrows. When Tarzan came inside 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, suntanned, 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 accountants which reminded Tarzan of Pamba the Rat, laid his hand upon the shoulder of a giant who stood next to 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 the 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 rode 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 to 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. Ha! 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 he caught a faint but unfamiliar sound. Running to the window Tarzan looked toward the harbour, 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 on 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 and all there were, fifteen of them rough and villanous-appearing seamen. The others of the party were of a 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 in a fussy, excitable manner. After these came a huge negrisk 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 mass. The men put down their burdens, and then one caught sight of the notice which Tarzan had posted. "'Homates!' 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 it 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, Professor!' he called. Step forward and read the bloomin' notice.' 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 you think we wanted a view to read the bloomin' notice 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 in 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 than we do about it,' growled the rat-faced sailor. "'Keep a civil tongue in your head,' cried the young man, his face pailing 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 dareshoot a man until his back was turned. You don't dareshoot 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 a 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 sailor stood watching the scene intently. Professor Porter had already disappeared into the jungle, wither he was being followed by the fussy Samuel T. Philander, his secretary and assistant. Esmeralda, the niggress, was busy sorting her mistress's 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-shot 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 semen crumpled up with a scream of pain and terror. Clayton turned and rushed back toward the scene. The sailor 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 sailor's and 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 daresay 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.' "'Oh, 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 cut-throats, 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 instance 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 Esmerelda 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 closed 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 Grey Stoke 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. While Professor Archimedes Cupider 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 friend's attention. Instead, with all the assurance that deductive reasoning from a wrong premise induces in one, Mr. Samuel T. Philander grasped Professor Archimedes Cupider, 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 negris'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's 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 awestruck 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 Caesar wailing. Stop, Esmeralda! Stop at 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. CHAPTER XIV This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tarsana the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs CHAPTER XIV AT THE MERCY OF THE JUNGLE After Clayton had plunged into the jungle, the sailors, mutineers of the arrow, fell into a discussion of their next step, but on one point all were agreed that they should hasten to put off to the anchored arrow where they could at least be safe from the spears of their unseen foe. And so, while Jane Porter and Esmeralda were barricading themselves within the cabin, the cowardly crew of cutthroats were pulling rapidly for their ship in the two boats that had brought them ashore. So much had Tarsana seen that day that his head was in a whirl of wonder, but the most wonderful sight of all to him was the face of the beautiful white girl. Here at last was one of his own kind. Of that he was positive. And the young man and the two old men, they too, were much as he had pictured his own people to be. But doubtless they were as ferocious and cruel as other men he had seen. The fact that they alone of all the party were unarmed might account for the fact that they had killed no one. They might be very different if provided with weapons. Tarsana had seen the young man pick up the fallen revolver of the wounded snipes and hide it away in his breast, and he had also seen him slip it cautiously to the girl as she entered the cabin door. He did not understand anything of the motives behind all that he had seen, but somehow, intuitively he liked the young man and the two old men, and for the girl he had a strange longing which he scarcely understood. As for the big black woman, she was evidently connected in some way to the girl, and so he liked her also. For the sailors and especially snipes he had developed a great hatred. He knew by their threatening gestures and by the expression upon their evil faces that they were enemies of the others of the party, and so he decided to watch closely. Tarsana wondered why the men had gone into the jungle, nor did it ever occur to him that one could become lost in that maze of undergrowth which to him was as simple as is the main street of your own home town to you. When he saw the sailors row away toward the ship, and knew that the girl and her companion were safe in his cabin, Tarsana decided to follow the young man into the jungle and learn what his errand might be. He swung off rapidly in the direction taken by Clayton, and in a short time heard faintly in the distance the now only occasional calls of the Englishman to his friends. Finally Tarsan came up with a white man, who, almost fagged, was leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from his forehead. The eight man, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching this new specimen of his own race intently. At intervals Clayton called aloud, and finally it came to Tarsan that he was searching for the old man. Tarsan was on the point of going off to look for them himself when he caught the yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the jungle toward Clayton. It was Sheetah, the leopard. Now Tarsan heard the soft bending of grasses, and wondered why the young white man was not warned. Could it be he had failed to note the loud warning? Never before had Tarsan known Sheetah to be so clumsy. No, the white man did not hear. Sheetah was crouching for the spring, and then shrill and horrible there rose from the stillness of the jungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and Sheetah turned, crashing into the underbrush. Clayton came to his feet with a start. His blood ran cold. Never in all his life had so fearful a sound smote upon his ears. He was no coward, but if ever man felt the icy fingers of fear upon his heart, William C. So Clayton, eldest son of Lord Grace Stoke of England, did that day in the fastness of the African jungle. The noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close beside him, and the sound of that blood-curdling shriek from above, tested Clayton's courage to the limit, but he could not know that it was to that very voice he owed his life, nor that the creature who hurled it forth was his own cousin, the real Lord Grace Stoke. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Clayton, disheartened and discouraged, was in a terrible quandary as to the proper course to pursue, whether to keep on in search of Professor Porter, at the almost certain risk of his own death in the jungle by night, or to return to the cabin where he might at least serve to protect Jane from the perils which confronted her on all sides. He did not wish to return to camp without her father. Still more, he shrank from the thought of leaving her alone and unprotected in the hands of the mutineers of the arrow, or to the hundred unknown dangers of the jungle. Possibly too, he thought, the Professor and Philander might have returned to camp. Yes, that was more than likely. At least he would return and see before he continued what seemed to be a most fruitless quest. And so he started, stumbling back through the thick and matted underbrush in the direction that he thought the cabin lay. Tartzan surprised the young man was heading farther into the jungle in the general direction of Mabonga's village, and the shrewd young ape-man was convinced that he was lost. To Tartzan this was scarcely incomprehensible, his judgment told him that no man would venture toward the village of the cruel blacks armed only with a spear which, from the awkward way in which he carried it, was evidently an unaccustomed weapon to this white man. Nor was he following the trail of the old men. That they had crossed and left long since. Though it had been fresh and plain before Tartzan's eyes. Tartzan was perplexed. The fierce jungle would make easy pray of this unprotected stranger in a very short time if he were not guided quickly to the beach. Yes, there was Numa, the lion, even now stalking the white man a dozen paces to the right. Clayton heard the great body paralleling his course, and now there rose upon the evening air the beast's thunderous roar. The man stopped with upraised spear and faced the brush from which issued the awful sound. The shadows were deepening, darkness was settling in. God, to die here alone, beneath the fangs of wild beasts, to be torn and rendered, to feel the hot breath of the brood on his face as the great paw crushed down on his breast. For a moment all was still. Clayton stood rigid, with raised spear. Presently a faint rustling of the bush apprised him of the stealthy creeping of the thing behind. It was gathering for the spring. At last he saw it, not twenty feet away, the long, lithe, muscular body and tawny head of a huge black-maned lion. The beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly. As its eyes met Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately, cautiously gathered its hind quarters behind it. In agony the man watched, fearful to launch his spear, powerless to fly. He heard a noise in the tree above him. Some knew danger, he thought, but he dared not take his eyes from the yellow green orbs before him. There was a sharp twang as of a broken banjo string, and at the same instant an arrow appeared in the yellow hide of the crouching lion. With a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang, but somehow Clayton stumbled to one side, and as he turned again to face the infuriated king of beasts, he was appalled at the sight which confronted him. Almost simultaneously with the lion's turning to renew the attack, a half-naked giant dropped from the tree above, squarely on the brute's back. With lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron muscle encircled the huge neck, and the great beast was raised from behind, roaring and pawing the air, raised as easily as Clayton would have lifted a pet dog. The scene he witnessed there in the twilight depths of the African jungle was burned forever into the Englishman's brain. The man before him was the embodiment of physical perfection and giant strength, yet it was not upon these he depended in his battle with the great cat. For mighty as were his muscles they were as nothing by comparison with Numus. To his agility, to his brain and to his long-keen knife he owed his supremacy. His right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand plunged the knife time and again into the unprotected side behind the left shoulder. The infuriated beast pulled up and backwards until he stood upon his hind legs, struggled impotently in this unnatural position. Had the battle been of a few seconds longer duration the outcome might have been different, but it was all accomplished so quickly that the lion had scarce time to recover from the confusion of its surprise ere it sank lifeless to the ground. Then the strange figure which had vanquished it stood erect upon the carcass, and throwing back the wild and handsome head gave out the fearsome cry which a few moments earlier had so startled Clayton. Before him he saw the figure of a young man, naked except for a loincloth and a few barbaric ornaments about his arms and legs, on the breast a priceless diamond locket gleaming against the smooth, brown skin. The hunting knife had been returned to its homely sheath, and the man was gathering up his bow and quiver from where he had tossed them when he leaped to attack the lion. Clayton spoke to the stranger in English, thanking him for his brave rescue, and complimenting him on the wondrous strength and dexterity he had displayed, but the only answer was a steady stare and a faint shrug of the mighty shoulders, which might be token either disparagement of the service rendered or ignorance of Clayton's language. When the bow and quiver had been slung to his back, the wild man, for such Clayton now thought him, once more drew his knife and deftly carved a dozen large strips of meat from the lion's carcass. Then, squatting upon his haunches, he proceeded to eat, first motioning Clayton to join him. The strong white teeth sank into the raw and dripping flesh in apparent relish of the meal, but Clayton could not bring himself to share the uncooked meat with this strange host. Instead he watched him, and presently they're dawned upon him the conviction that this was Tarzan of the Apes, whose notice he had seen posted upon the cabin door that morning. If so, he must speak English. Again Clayton attempted speech with the ape-man, but the replies now vocal were in a strange tongue which resembled the chattering of monkeys mingled with the growling of some wild beast. No, this could not be Tarzan of the Apes, for it was very evident that he was an utter stranger to English. When Tarzan had completed his repast, he rose and, pointing in a very different direction from that which Clayton had been pursuing, started off through the jungle toward the point he had indicated. Clayton, bewildered and confused, hesitated to follow him. For he thought he was but being led more deeply into the mazes of the forest, but the ape-man, seeing him disinclined to follow, returned, and grasping him by the coat, dragged him along until he was convinced that Clayton understood what was required of him. Then he left him to follow voluntarily. The Englishman, finally concluding that he was a prisoner, saw no alternative open but to accompany his captor, and thus they traveled slowly through the jungle while the sable mantle of the impenetrable forest night fell about them, and the stealthy footfalls of padded claws mingled with the breaking of twigs, and the wild calls of the savage life that Clayton felt closing in upon him. Suddenly Clayton heard the faint report of a firearm, a single shot, and then silence. In the cabin by the beach two thoroughly terrified women clung to each other as they crouched upon the low bench in the gathering darkness. The negro sobbed hysterically, bemoaning the evil day that had witnessed her departure from her dear Maryland, while the white girl, dry-eyed and outwardly calm, was torn by inward fears and forebodings. She feared not more for herself than for the three men whom she knew to be wandering in the abysmal depths of the savage jungle, from which she now heard issuing the almost incessant shrieks and roars, barkings and growlings of its terrifying and fearsome denizens as they sought their prey. And now there came the sound of a heavy body brushing against the side of the cabin. She could hear the great padded pause upon the ground outside. For an instant all was silence. Even the bedlam of the forest died to a faint murmur. Then she distinctly heard the beast outside sniffing at the door, not two feet from where she crouched. Instinctively the girl shuddered and shrank closer to the black woman. Hush! she whispered. Hush, Esmeralda! For the woman's sobs and groans seemed to have attracted the thing that stalked there just beyond the thin wall. A gentle scratching sound was heard on the door. The brute tried to force an entrance, but presently deceased, and again she heard the great pads creeping stealthily around the cabin. Again they stopped. Beneath the window on which the terrified eyes of the girl now glued themselves. God! she murmured. For now, silhouetted against the moonlit sky beyond, she saw framed in the tiny square of the lattice window the head of a huge lioness. The gleaming eyes were fixed upon her in intent ferocity. Look, Esmeralda! she whispered. For God's sake, what shall we do? Look, quick, the window! As Esmeralda, cowering still closer to her mistess, took one frightened glance toward the little square of moonlight just as the lioness emitted a low savage snarl. The sight that met the poor woman's eyes was too much for the already overstrung nerves. Oh, Gabriel! she shrieked, and slid to the floor an inert and senseless mass. For what seemed an eternity the great brute stood with its forepaws upon the sill, glaring into the little room. Presently he tried the strength of the lattice with its great talons. The girl had almost ceased to breathe, went to her relief, the head disappeared, and she heard the brute's footsteps leaving the window. But now they came to the door again, and once more the scratching commenced, this time with increasing force until the great beast was tearing at the massive panels in a perfect frenzy of eagerness to seize its defenseless victims. Could Jane have known the immense strength of that door? Built piece by piece, she would have felt less fear of the lioness reaching her by this avenue. Little did John Clayton imagine when he fashioned that crude but mighty portal that one day, twenty years later, it would shield a fair American girl, then unborn, from the teeth and talons of a man-eater. Over fully twenty minutes the brute alternately sniffed and tore at the door, occasionally giving voice to a wild, savage cry of baffled rage. At length, however, she gave up the attempt, and Jane heard her returning toward the window, beneath which she paused for an instant, and then launched her great weight against the time-worn lattice. The girl heard the wooden rods groan beneath the impact, but they held, and the huge body dropped back to the ground below. Again and again the lioness repeated these tactics, until finally the horrified prisoner within saw a portion of the lattice give way, and in an instant one great paw in the head of the animal were thrust within the room. Slowly the powerful neck and shoulders spread the bars apart, and the lithe body protruded farther and farther into the room. As in a trance the girl rose, her hand upon her breast, wide eyes staring horror-stricken into the snarling face of the beast, scarce ten feet from her. At her feet lay the prostrate form of the negris. If she could but arouse her, their combined efforts might possibly avail to beat back the fierce and bloodthirsty intruder. Jane stooped to grasp the black woman by the shoulder. Roughly she shook her. Esmeralda! Esmeralda! She cried, Help me, or we are lost! Esmeralda opened her eyes. The first object they encountered was the dripping fangs of the hungry lioness. With a horrified scream the poor woman rose to her hands and knees, and in this position scurried across the room shrieking, Oh, get her out! Oh, get her out! At the top of her lungs Esmeralda weighed some two hundred and eighty pounds, and her extreme haste, added to her extreme corpulency, produced the most amazing result when Esmeralda elected to travel on all fours. For a moment the lioness remained quiet with intense gaze directed upon the flitting Esmeralda, whose goal appeared to be the cupboard into which she attempted to propel her huge bulk. But as the shells were but nine or ten inches apart, she only succeeded in getting her head in. Whereupon, with a final screech, which paled the jungle noises into insignificance, she fainted once again. With the subsidence of Esmeralda the lioness renewed her efforts to wriggle her huge bulk through the weakening lattice. The girl, standing pale and rigid against the farther wall, sought with ever-increasing terror for some loophole of escape. Suddenly her hand, tight pressed against her bosom, felt the hard outline of the revolver the Clayton had left with her earlier in the day. Quickly she snatched it from sighting-place, and leveling it full at the lioness's face, pulled the trigger. There was a flash of flame, the roar of the discharge, and an answering roar of pain and anger from the beast. Jane Porter saw the great form disappear from the window, and then she too fainted, the revolver falling at her side. When Sabre was not killed, the bullet had but inflicted a painful wound in one of the great shoulders. It was the surprise at the blinding flash, and the deafening roar that had caused her hasty but temporary retreat. In another instant she was back at the lattice, and with renewed fury was clawing at the aperture, but with less in effect, since the wounded member was almost useless. She saw her prey, the two women, lying senseless upon the floor. There was no longer any resistance to be overcome. Her meat lay before her, and Sabre had only to worm her way through the lattice to claim it. Slowly she forced her great bulk, inch by inch, through the opening. Now her head was through, now one great forearm and shoulder. Carefully she drew up the wounded member to insinuate it gently beyond the tight-pressing bars. A moment more, and both shoulders through, the long, sinuous body and the narrow hips would glide quickly after. It was on this side that Jane Porter again opened her eyes. CHAPTER XV of Tarzan of the Apes This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. When Clayton heard the report of the firearm he fell into an agony of fear and apprehension. He knew that one of the sailors might be the author of it, but the fact that he had left the revolver with Jane, together with the overwrought condition of his nerves, made him morbidly positive that she was threatened with some great danger. Perhaps even now she was attempting to defend herself against some savage man or beast. What were the thoughts of his strange captor, or guide? Clayton could only vaguely conjecture, but that he had heard the shot, and was in some manner affected by it was quite evident, for he quickened his pace so appreciably that Clayton, stumbling blindly in his wake, was down a dozen times in as many minutes in a vain effort to keep pace with him, and soon was left hopelessly behind. Fearing that he would again be irretrievably lost, he called aloud to the wild man ahead of him, and in a moment had the satisfaction of seeing him drop lightly to his side from the branches above. For a moment Tarzan looked at the young man closely, as though undecided as to just what was best to do. Then, stooping down before Clayton, he motioned him to grasp him about the neck, and with the white man upon his back, Tarzan took to the trees. The next few minutes the young Englishman never forgot. High and abending and swaying branches he was born with what seemed to him incredible swiftness, while Tarzan chafed at the slowness of his progress. From one lofty branch the agile creatures swung with Clayton through a dizzy arc to a neighboring tree. Then, for a hundred yards maybe, the sure feet threaded a maze of interwoven limbs, balancing like a tight rope walker high above the black depths of Verdure beneath. From the first sensation of chilling fear Clayton passed to one of keen admiration and envy of those giant muscles, and that wondrous instinct or knowledge which guided this forest god through the inky blackness of the night, as easily and safely as Clayton would have strolled a London street at high noon. Occasionally they would enter a spot where the foliage above was less dense, and the bright rays of the moon lit up before Clayton's wandering eyes the strange path they were traversing. At such times the man fairly caught his breath at sight of the horrid depths below them, where Tarzan took the easiest way, which often led over a hundred feet above the earth. And yet with all his seeming speed Tarzan was in reality feeling his way with comparative slowness, searching constantly for limbs of adequate strength for the maintenance of this double weight. Presently they came to the clearing before the beach. Tarzan's quick ears had heard the strange sounds of Saber's efforts to force her way through the lattice, and it seemed to Clayton that they dropped a straight hundred feet to earth so quickly did Tarzan descend. Yet when they struck the ground it was with scarce ajar, and as Clayton released his hold on the ape-man he saw him dart like a squirrel for the opposite side of the cabin. The Englishman sprang quickly after him, just in time to see the hindquarters of some huge animal about to disappear through the window of the cabin. As Jane opened her eyes to a realization of the imminent peril which threatened her, her brave young heart gave up at last its final vestige of hope. But then to her surprise she saw the huge animal being slowly drawn back through the window, and in the moonlight beyond she saw the heads and shoulders of two men. As Clayton rounded the corner of the cabin to behold the animal disappearing within, it was also to see the ape-man seize the long tail in both hands, and bracing himself with his feet against the side of the cabin, throw all his mighty strength into the effort to draw the beast out of the interior. Clayton was quick to lend a hand, but the ape-man jabbered to him in a commanding and peremptory tone something which Clayton knew to be orders, though he could not understand them. At last under their combined efforts the great body was slowly dragged farther and farther outside the window, and then there came to Clayton's mind a dawning conception of the rash bravery of his companion's act. For a naked man to drag a shrieking, clawing man-eater forth from a window by the tail to save a strange white girl was indeed the last word in heroism. Then so far as Clayton was concerned it was a very different matter, since the girl was not only of his own kind and race, but was the one woman in all the world whom he loved. Though he knew that the lioness would make short work of both of them, he pulled with a will to keep it from Jane Porter, and then he recalled the battle between this man and the great black-maned lion which he had witnessed a short time before, and he convinced to feel more assurance. Tarzan was still issuing orders which Clayton could not understand. He was trying to tell the stupid white man to plunge his poisoned arrows into Sabre's back and sides, and to reach the savage heart with a long, thin hunting-knife that hung at Tarzan's hip, but the man would not understand, and Tarzan did not dare release his hold to do the things himself, for he saw that the puny white man never could hold mighty Sabre alone for an instant. Slowly the lioness was emerging from the window, at last her shoulders were out, and then Clayton saw an incredible thing. Tarzan, racking his brains for some means to cope single-handed with the infuriated beast, had suddenly recalled his battle with T'Koz, and as the great shoulders came clear of the window, so that the lioness hung upon the still only by her for-pause, Tarzan suddenly released his hold upon the brute. With the quickness of a striking rattler, he launched himself full upon Sabre's back, his strong young arms seeking and gaining a full half-nelson upon the beast, as he had learned it that other day during his bloody wrestling victory over T'Koz. With the roar the lioness turned completely over upon her back, falling fully upon her enemy, but the black-haired giant only closed tighter his hold. Pawing and tearing at earth and air, Sabre rolled and threw herself this way and that in an effort to dislodge this strange antagonist, but ever tighter and tighter drew the iron bands that were forcing her head lower and lower upon her tawny breast. There crept the steel forearms of the ape-man about the back of Sabre's neck, weaker and weaker became the lioness's efforts. At last Clayton saw the immense muscles of Tarzan's shoulders and biceps leap into corded knots beneath the silver mood-light. There was a long sustained and supreme effort on the ape-man's part, and the vertebrae of Sabre's neck parted with a sharp snap. In an instant Tarzan was upon his feet, and for the second time that day, Clayton heard the bull-ape's savage roar of victory. Then he heard Jane's agonized cry. "'Cecile, Mr. Clayton, oh, what is it? What is it?' Running quickly to the cabin door, Clayton called out that all was right and shouted to her to open the door. As quickly as she could she raised the great bar and fairly dragged Clayton within. "'What was that awful noise?' she whispered, shrinking close to him. It was the cry of the kill from the throat of the man who has just saved your life, Miss Porter. Wait, I will fetch him so that you may thank him.' The frightened girl would not be left alone, so she got company Clayton to the side of the cabin where lay the dead body of the lioness. One of the apes was gone. Clayton called several times, but there was no reply, and so the two returned to the greater safety of the interior. "'What a frightful sound!' cried Jane. I shudder at the mere thought of it. Do not tell me that a human throat voiced that hideous and fearsome shriek.' "'But it did, Miss Porter,' replied Clayton, or at least if not a human throat that of a forest god.' And then he told her of his experiences with this strange creature, of how twice the wild man had saved his life, of the wondrous strength and agility and bravery of the brown skin and the handsome face. "'I cannot make it out at all,' he concluded. At first I thought he might be Tarzan of the apes, but he neither speaks nor understands English, so that theory is untenable. "'Well, whatever he may be,' cried the girl, "'we owe him our lives, and may God bless him and keep him in safety in his wild and savage jungle.' "'Amen!' said Clayton fervently. "'For the good Lord's sake ain't I dead!' The two turned to see Esmeralda sitting up right upon the floor, her great eyes rolling from side to side as though she could not believe their testimony as to her whereabouts. And now, for Jane Porter, the reaction came, and she threw herself upon the bench sobbing with hysterical laughter. CHAPTER XVI This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tarzan of the apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs. CHAPTER XVI Most Remarkable 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. Each beast 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 had suddenly 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 agriculturalist artisans and merchants, the very type of people that has made possible such civilisation 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. Muslimism 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 Cupider turned in the direction indicated by the near side of 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 Phyllis. As I was saying, Mr. Heavens, Professor Lyon, 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 and your discourse, a Lyon. But as I was saying, bless me, Professor, again interrupted Mr. Philander, permit me to suggest that doubtless the mores 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 Phyllis Carnivora which distance proverbially is credited with lending. In the meantime the Lyon 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 it 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 Lyon. They had proceeded but a short distance when a backward glance revealed to the horrified gaze of Mr. Philander that the Lyon 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 Lyon also had quickened his gate 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 as stern. The Lyon 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 coattails 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 haven of the trees he saw there that Mr. Samuel T. Philander directed his prodigious leaps and bounds, while from the shadows of the same spot peered two keen eyes and interested appreciation of the race. That was Tarzan of the apes who watched, with face aggrin this odd game of follow the leader. He knew the two men were safe enough from attack insofar 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 into Hungary again, but the chances were that if not angered he would soon tire out 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 event 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, broken 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 is 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. 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 looking 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 at Porky Heaven's Barn. Arch! gasped the astonishment, Mr. Philander. Lordy, how good that sounds. When you're human, Arch, 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 class 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. A. 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. A. 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, huddling and 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? Tutt, tutt, Mr. Philander, tutt, tutt, 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 signalling, Professor? Asked Mr. Philander in an excited tone. Professor Porter deigned to make no response to this purile 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 super-inducing total mental aberration! How very sad indeed! And for one still so young! Professor Porter rolled over upon his stomach. Gently he bowed his back until he resembled a huge Tomcat in proximity to a yelping dog. Then he sat up and felt a various portions of his anatomy. They are all here, 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 still cat, 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 loincloth 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 is the better part of discretion to follow him, said Mr. Philander. Tut, tut, Mr. Philander! I have learned the Professor. A short time since you were advancing a most logical argument in substantiation of your theory that can't play directly south of us. I was sceptical, 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 circumnambulate the incontinent of Africa to reach my destination. Further argument was interrupted by Tarzan, who is 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 eight men lost patience with their stupid ignorance. He grasped the fright in 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. Don 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. Esmerelda 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, Esmerelda, of 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. No, did it precisely comport with my preconceived ideas of the dignity of divine messengers, remarked Professor Porter, but when the gentlemen tied to highly respectable and erudite scholars neck to neck and dragged them through the jungle as though they had been cows. End of chapter. Chapter 17 of Tarzan of the Apes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 17 Barrios. As it was now quite light, the party, none of whom had eaten or slept since the previous morning, began to be stir 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. Bringing 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 board 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. Though 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 Kayla, the ape. As Mr. Philander was placing the frail bones of the infant in a bit of sailcloth, 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 equate Mr. Clayton with our discovery at once. Tutt-tutt, Mr. Philander, tutt-tutt, 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 savaged, 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 of his past pride and 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 to-day, and who had been dead twenty years, chance to glance toward the harbour. Instantly her tears ceased. Look at them load down white trash out there, she trilled, pointing toward the arrow. They all said desecrating us, right here on this hip averted island. And sure enough the arrow was being worked toward the open sea slowly through the harbour'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'm 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 it 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. Tutt, tutt, child, tutt, tutt, replied Professor Porter. You are a good child, but inexperienced in practical matters. And Professor Porter turned and walked slowly away towards the jungle, his hands clasped beneath his long coattails and his eyes bent upon the ground. His daughter watched him with a pathetic smile upon her lips, 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 lines 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 tear 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 see 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 wandered over the cause of such a thing out on the great water. About the same time the lookout 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 boughs was constantly heaving into the sea a rope to the end of which a small object was fastened. He then 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 a treasure aboard it will all be confiscated anyway. We might as well bury it here in that 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 damn shrimp!' "'I'm captain here, though. I'll have you 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 going to get us nothing but fighting amongst ourselves.'" "'Rat enough!' replied the sailor who had resented Snipes' autocratic tones. "'But it ain't going to get nobody nothing to put on airs in this bloomin' company, neither.' "'You fell as dig here!' said Snipes, indicating a spot beneath the tree. "'And while you're digging, Peter can be a makin' a mapper that location says we can find it again. "'You, Tom and Bill, take a couple more down and fetch up the chest.' "'What are you going to do?' asked he of the previous altercation. "'Just boss!' "'Get busy there!' cried Snipes. "'You didn't think your captain wasn't going 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 ring leader 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 Terent, the sailor who had before spoken. "'Not by a damn sight!' replied Snipes, fingering the butt of his revolver nervously. "'Then by God!' replied Terent, if you won't take a shovel, you'll take a pickaxe.' 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. "'Serve this 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 the 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, Terent suggested that they enlarge it and enter Snipes' body on top of the chest. "'It might help fool any as happen to be digging hereabouts!' 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 shoveled 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. After 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 their 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. Tarzan 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. Thus 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 dumb-dumb. 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 an environment. His brain told him that the chest contained something valuable, or the man 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 usable, 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 riding at Tarzan's own table beneath the window. Upon a pile of grasses at the far side of the room lay the negroes 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 burnish 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 Sumerian darkness. All 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 denote sleep. Cautiously he intruded his hand between the meshes of the lattice, until his whole arm was within the cabin. Carefully he felled upon the desk. At last he grasped the manuscript upon which Jane Porter had been writing. Then his 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.