 CHAPTER I had this story from one who had no business to tell it to me or to any other. I may credit the seductive influence of an old vintage upon the narrator for the beginning of it and my own skeptical incredulity during the days that followed for the balance of the strange tale. When my convivial host discovered that he had told me so much and that I was prone to doubtfulness, his foolish pride assumed the task the old vintage had commenced, and so he unearthed written evidence in the form of musty manuscript and dry official records of the British colonial office to support many of the salient features of his remarkable narrative. I do not say the story is true, for I did not witness the happenings which it portrays, but the fact that in the telling of it to you I have taken fictitious names for the principal characters quite sufficiently evidences the sincerity of my own belief that it may be true. The yellow, mildewed pages of the diary of a man long dead and the records of the colonial office dovetail perfectly with the narrative of my convivial host, and so I give you the story as I painstakingly pieced it out from these several various agencies. If you do not find it credible, you will at least be as one with me in acknowledging that it is unique, remarkable, and interesting. From the records of the colonial office and from the dead man's diary we learn that a certain young English nobleman whom we shall call John Clayton, Lord Grey Stoke, was commissioned to make a peculiarly delicate investigation of conditions in a British West Coast African colony from whose simple native inhabitants another European power was known to be recruiting soldiers for its native army, which it used solely for the forcible collection of rubber and ivory from the savage tribes along the Congo and the Arawimi. The natives of the British colony complained that many of their young men were enticed away through the medium of fair and glowing promises, but that few, if any, ever returned to their families. The Englishmen in Africa went even further, saying that these poor blacks were held in virtual slavery, since after their terms of enlistment expired their ignorance was imposed upon by their white officers, and they were told that they had yet several years to serve. And so the colonial office appointed John Clayton to a new post in British West Africa, but his confidential instructions centered on a thorough investigation of the unfair treatment of black British subjects by the officers of a friendly European power. Why he was sent is, however, of little moment to this story, for he never made an investigation nor, in fact, did he ever reach his destination. Clayton was the type of Englishman that one likes best to associate with the noblest monuments of historic achievement upon a thousand victorious battlefields, a strong virile man, mentally, morally, and physically. In stature he was above the average height, his eyes were gray, his features regular and strong, his carriage that of perfect robust health influenced by his years of army training. Political ambition had caused him to sink transference from the army to the colonial office, and so we find him, still young, entrusted with a delicate and important commission in the service of the queen. When he received this appointment he was both elated and appalled. The performance seemed to him in the nature of a well-merited reward for painstaking and intelligent service, and as a stepping stone to posts of greater importance and responsibility. But on the other hand he had been married to the Honorable Alice Rutherford for scarce of three months, and it was the thought of taking this fair young girl into the dangers and isolation of tropical Africa that appalled him. For her sake he would have refused the appointment, but she would not have it so. Instead she insisted that he accept and indeed take her with him. There were mothers and brothers and sisters and aunts and cousins to express various opinions on the subject, but as to what they severally advised history is silent. We know only that on a bright May morning in 1888 John, Lord Greystoke and Lady Alice sailed from Dover on their way to Africa. A month later they arrived at Freetown where they chartered a small sailing vessel, the Fuwalda, which was to bear them to their final destination. And here John, Lord Greystoke and Lady Alice's wife, vanished from the eyes and from the knowledge of men. Two months after they weighed anchor and cleared from the port of Freetown, a half-dozen British war vessels were scouring the South Atlantic for trace of them, or their little vessel. And it was almost immediately that the wreckage was found upon the shores of St. Helena, which convinced the world that the Fuwalda had gone down with all on board, and hence the search was stopped ere it had scarce begun, though hope lingered in longing hearts for many years. The Fuwalda, a barken teen of about one hundred tons, was a vessel of the type often seen in coastwise trade in the far Southern Atlantic, their crews composed of the off-scourings of the sea, unhanged murderers and cut-throats of every race and every nation. The Fuwalda was no exception to the rule, her officers were swarthy bullies, hating and hated by their crew. The captain, while a competent seamen, was a brute in his treatment of his men. He knew, or at least he used, but two arguments in his dealings with them, a belaying pin and a revolver, nor it is likely that the motley aggregation he signed would have understood ought else. So it was that from the second day out from Freetown, John Clayton and his young wife witnessed scenes upon the deck of the Fuwalda, such as they had believed were never enacted outside the covers of printed stories of the sea. It was on the morning of the second day that the first link was forged in what was destined to form a chain of circumstances, ending in a life for one then unborn such as has never been paralleled in the history of man. Two sailors were washing down the decks of the Fuwalda, the first mate was on duty, and the captain had stopped to speak with John Clayton and Lady Alice. The men were working backwards towards the little party who were facing away from the sailors. Closer and closer they came, until one of them was directly behind the captain. In another moment he would have passed by, and this strange narrative would never have been recorded. But just that instant the officer turned to leave Lord and Lady Grey Stoke, and as he did so, tripped against the sailor and sprawled headlong upon the deck, overturning the water pail so that he was drenched in its dirty contents. For an instant the scene was ludicrous, but only for an instant, with a volley of awful oaths, his face suffused with a scarlet of mortification and rage, the captain regained his feet and with a terrific blow felled the sailor to the deck. The man was small and rather old, so that the brutality of the act was thus accentuated. The other semen, however, was neither old nor small, a huge bear of a man with fierce black mustachios and a great bull neck set between massive shoulders. As he saw his mate go down he crouched, and with a low snarl, sprang upon the captain, crushing him to his knees with a single mighty blow. From scarlet the officer's face went white, for this was mutiny, and mutiny he had met and subdued before in his brutal career. Without waiting to rise he whipped a revolver from his pocket, firing point blank at the great mountain of muscle towering before him. But, quick as he was, John Clayton was almost as quick, so that the bullet which was intended for the sailor's heart lodged in the sailor's leg instead, for Lord Greystoke had struck down the captain's arm as he had seen the weapon flash in the sun. Words passed between Clayton and the captain, the former making it plain that he was disgusted with the brutality displayed toward the crew, nor would he countenance anything further of the kind while he and Lady Greystoke remained passengers. The captain was on the point of making an angry reply, but, thinking better of it, turned on his heel in black and scalling strode aft. He did not care to antagonize an English official, for the queen's mighty arm wielded a punitive instrument which he could appreciate in which he feared England's far-reaching navy. The two sailors picked themselves up, the older man assisting his wounded comrade to rise. The big fellow, who was known among his mates as Black Michael, tried his leg gingerly, and, finding that it bore his weight, turned to Clayton with a word of gruff thanks. Although the fellow's tone was surly, his words were evidently well-meant. Air he had scarce finished his little speech he had turned and was limping off towards the forecastle with the very apparent intention of forestalling any further conversation. They did not see him again for several days, nor did the captain accord them more than the surliest of grunts when he was forced to speak to them. They took their meals in his cappin, as they had before the unfortunate occurrence, for the captain was careful to see that his duties never permitted him to eat at the same time. The other officers were coarse, illiterate fellows, but little above the villainous crew they bullied, and were only too glad to avoid social intercourse with the polished English noble and his lady, so that the Claytons were left very much to themselves. This in itself accorded perfectly with their desires, but it also rather isolated them from the life of the little ship so that they were unable to keep in touch with the daily happenings, which were to culminate so soon in bloody tragedy. There was in the whole atmosphere of the craft that undefinable something which presages disaster. Outwardly to the knowledge of the Claytons all went on as before upon the little vessel, but that there was an undertow leading them towards some unknown danger both felt, though they did not speak of it to each other. On the second day after the wounding of Black Michael, Clayton came on deck just in time to see the limp body of one of the crew being carried below by four of his fellows, while the first mate, a heavy belaying pin in his hand, stood glowering at the little party of Sullen Sailors. Clayton asked no questions. He did not need to, and the following day, as the great lines of a British battleship grew out of the distant horizon, he half determined to demand that he and Lady Alice be put aboard her, for his fears were steadily increasing that nothing but harm could result from remaining on the lowering Sullen Foualda. Toward noon they were within speaking distance of the British vessel, but when Clayton had nearly decided to ask the captain to put them aboard her, the obvious ridiculousness of such a request became suddenly apparent. What reason could he give the officer commanding her majesty's ship for desiring to go back in the direction from which he had just come? What if he told them that two insubordinate seamen had been roughly handled by their officers? They would but laugh on their sleeves and attribute his reason for wishing to leave the ship to but one thing, cowardice. John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, did not ask to be transferred to the British man of war. Late in the afternoon he saw her upper works fave below the far horizon, but not before he learned that which confirmed his greatest fears, and caused him to curse the false pride which had restrained him from seeking safety for his young wife a few short hours before, when safety was within reach, a safety which was now gone for ever. It was mid-afternoon that brought the little old sailor, who had been felled by the captain a few days before, to where Clayton and his wife stood by the ship's side watching the ever diminishing outlines of the great battleship. The old fellow was polishing brasses, and as he came edging along until close to Clayton he said, in an undertone, Ells to pay, sir, on this ear-craft, and mark my word for it, sir, Ells to pay. What do you mean, my good fellow? asked Clayton. Why, haven't you seen what's going on? Hasn't you heard that devil's spawn of a captain and his mates knock on the blooming lights out on half the crew? Two busted eds yesterday, and three today. The black Michael's as good as new again, and he's not the bully to stand for it, not he, and mark my word for it, sir. You mean, my man, that the crew contemplates mutiny? asked Clayton. Mutiny, exclaimed the old fellow, mutiny. They means murder, sir, and mark my word for it, sir. When? It's coming, sir, it's coming, but I'm not a sayin' when. And I said too damn much now. But he was a good sort the other day, and I thought it no more than right to warn you. But keep a still tongue in your head, and when your ears shootin', keep below, and stay there. That's all. Only keep a still tongue in your head, or they'll put a pill between your ribs and mark my word for it, sir. And the old fellow went on with his polishing, which carried him away from where the Claytons were standing. Ducid, cheerful outlook, Alice, said Clayton. You should warn the captain at once, John. Possibly the trouble may yet be averted, she said. I suppose I should, but yet from purely selfish motives I am almost prompted to keep a still tongue in my head. Whatever they do now, they will spare us in recognition of my stand for this fellow, Black Michael. But should they find that I had betrayed them, there would be no mercy shone us, Alice. You have but one duty, John, and that lies in the interest of vested authority. If you do not warn the captain, you are as much a party to whatever follows, as though you would help to plot and carry it out with your own head in hands. You do not understand, dear, replied Clayton. It is of you I am thinking. There lies my first duty. The captain has brought this condition upon himself. So why, then, should I risk objecting my wife to unthinkable horrors in a probably futile attempt to save him from his own brutal folly? You have no conception, dear, of what would follow were this pack of cutthroats to gain control of the Fulda. Duty is duty, John, and no amount of sophistries may change it. I would be a poor wife for an English lord were I to be responsible for his shirking a plain duty. I realize the danger which must follow, but I can face it with you. Have it as you will, then, Alice, he answered, smiling. Maybe we are borrowing trouble. While I do not like the looks of things on board this ship, they may not be so bad after all, for it is possible that the ancient mariner was but voicing the desires of his wicked old heart rather than speaking of real facts. Only on the high sea may have been common a hundred years ago, but in this good year, 1888, it is the least likely of happenings. But there goes the captain to his cabin now. If I am going to warn him, I might as well get the beastly job over, for I have little stomach to talk with the brute at all. So saying he strolled carelessly in the direction of the companion-way through which the captain had passed, and a moment later was knocking at his door. Come in, growled the deep tones of that surly officer, and when Clayton had entered and closed the door behind him, well, I have come to report the gist of a conversation I heard today, because I feel that, while there may be nothing to it, it is as well that you be forearmed. In short, the men contemplate mutiny and murder. So lie, roared the captain, and if you have been interfering again with the discipline of this ship, or meddling in affairs that don't concern you, you can take the consequences and be damned. I don't care whether you are an English lord or not. I'm captain of this year's ship, and from now on you keep your meddling nose out of my business. The captain had worked himself up to such a frenzy of rage that he was fairly purple of face, and he shrieked the last words at the top of his voice, emphasizing his remarks by a loud thumping of the table with one huge fist, and shaking the other in Clayton's face. Grace duck never turned to hair but stood eyeing the excited man with level gaze. Captain Billings, he drawled finally, if you will pardon my candor, I might remark that you are something of an ass. Wherepon he turned and left the captain with the same indifferent ease that was habitual with him, and which was more surely calculated to raise the ire of a man of Billings's class than a tort of invective. So whereas the captain might easily have been brought to regret his tasty speech had Clayton attempted to conciliate him, his tamper was now irrevocably set in the mold in which Clayton had left it, and the last chance of their working together for their common good was gone. Well, Alice, said Clayton as he rejoined his wife, I might have saved my breath, the fellow proved most ungrateful, fairly jumped at me like a mad dog. He and his blasted old ship may hang, for odd I care, and until we are safely off the thing I shall spend my energies in looking after our own welfare. And I rather fancy the first step to that end should be to go to our cabin and look over my revolvers. I am sorry now that we packed the larger guns and the ammunition with the stuff below. They found their quarters in a bad state of disorder, clothing from their open boxes and bags strewed the little apartment, and even their beds had been torn to pieces. See some one was more anxious about our belongings than we, said Clayton. Let's have a look around, Alice, and see what's missing. A thorough search revealed the fact that nothing had been taken but Clayton's two revolvers and the small supply of ammunition he had saved out for them. Those are the very things I most wished they had left us, said Clayton, and the fact that they wished for them and them alone is most sinister. What are we to do, John? asked his wife. Perhaps you were right in that our best chance lies in maintaining a neutral position. If the officers are able to prevent a mutiny, we have nothing to fear, while if the mutineers are victorious, our one slim hope lies in not having attempted to thwart or antagonize them. Right you are, Alice. We'll keep in the middle of the road. As they started to straighten up their cabin, Clayton and his wife simultaneously noticed the corner of a piece of paper, protruding from beneath the door of their quarters. As Clayton stooped to reach for it, he was amazed to see it move further into the room, and then they realized that it was being pushed inward by someone from without. Quickly and silently he stepped toward the door, but as he reached for the knob to throw it open, his wife's hand fell upon his wrist. No, John, she whispered, they do not wish to be seen, and so we cannot afford to see them. Do not forget that we are keeping to the middle of the road. Clayton smiled and dropped his hand to his side. Thus he stood watching the little bit of white paper until it finally remained at rest upon the floor, just inside the door. Then Clayton stooped and picked it up. It was a bit of grimy white paper roughly folded into a ragged square. Opening it they found a crude message printed almost illegibly, and with many evidences of an unaccustomed task. Translated it was a warning to the Claytons to refrain from reporting the loss of the revolvers, or from repeating what the old sailor had told them, to refrain on pain of death. I rather imagine we'll be good, said Clayton with a rueful smile. About all we can do is to sit tight and wait for whatever may come. Chapter 2 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 2 The Savage Home Nor did they have long to wait, for the next morning as Clayton was emerging on deck for his accustomed walk before breakfast, a shot rang out, and then another, and another. The sight which met his eyes confirmed his worst fears. Facing the little knot of officers was the entire motley crew of the Fualta, and at their head stood Black Michael. At the first volley from the officers the men ran for shelter, and from points of vantage behind masts, wheel-house, and cabin, they returned the fire of the five men who represented the hated authority of the ship. Two of their number had gone down before the captain's revolver. They lay where they had fallen between the combatants, but then the first mate lunged forward upon his face, and at a cry of command from Black Michael the mutineers charged the remaining four. The crew had been able to muster but six firearms, so most of them were armed with boat-hooks, axes, hatchets, and crowbars. The captain had emptied his revolver and was reloading as the charge was made. The second mate's gun had jammed, and so there were but two weapons opposed to the mutineers as they bore down upon the officers, who now started to give back before the infuriated rush of their men. Both sides were cursing and swearing in a frightful manner, which together with the reports of the firearms and the screams and groans of the wounded turned the deck of the Fualta into the likeness of a madhouse. Before the officers had taken a dozen backward steps the men were upon them. An axe in the hands of a burly negro cleft the captain from forehead to chin, and an instant later the others were down, dead or wounded from dozens of blows and bullet wounds. Short and grisly had been the work of the mutineers of the Fualta, and through it all John Clayton had stood leaning carelessly beside the companion-way, puffing meditatively upon his pipe as though he had been but watching an indifferent cricket match. As the last officer went down he thought it was time that he returned to his wife, lest some members of the crew find her alone below. Though outwardly calm and indifferent Clayton was inwardly apprehensive and wrought up, for he feared for his wife's safety at the hands of these ignorant, half-brutes into whose hands fate had so remorselessly thrown them. As he turned to descend the ladder he was surprised to see his wife standing on the steps almost at his side. How long have you been here, Alice? Since the beginning, she replied, how awful, John! Oh, how awful! What can we hope for at the hands of such as those? Breakfast, I hope, smiling bravely in an attempt to allay her fears. At least, he added, I'm going to ask them. Come with me, Alice. We must not let them think we expect any but courteous treatment. The men had by this time surrounded the dead and wounded officers and without either partiality or compassion proceeded to throw both living and dead over the sides of the vessel. With equal heartlessness they disposed of their own dead and dying. Presently one of the crews spied the approaching Clayton's and with a cry of, Here's too much for the fishes! Rushed towards them with uplifted acts. But Black Michael was even quicker so that the fellow went down with a bullet in his back before he had taken a half-dozen steps. With a loud roar Black Michael attracted the attention of the others and pointing to Lord and Lady Greystone cried, These hair are my friends, and are to be left alone. Do you understand? I'm captain of this ship now, and what I say goes. He added, turning to Clayton, Just keep to yourselves and nobody will army, and he looked threateningly on his fellows. The Clayton's heeded Black Michael's instructions so well that they saw but little of the crew and knew nothing of the plans the men were making. Occasionally they heard faint echoes of brawls and quarreling among the moot-nears, and on two occasions the vicious bark of firearms rang out on the still air. But Black Michael was a fit leader for this band of cut-throats, and with all held them in fair subjection to his rule. On the fifth day following the murder of the ship's officers, land was sighted by the look-out. Whether island or mainland Black Michael did not know, but he announced to Clayton that if investigation showed that the place was habitable, he and Lady Greystone were to be put ashore with their belongings. You be all right, therefore, a few months, he explained, and by that time we'll have been able to make an inhabited coast somewhere and scatter a bit. Then I'll see that your government's notified where you be, and there's soon some amount of water fetching off. It would be a hard matter to land you in a civilization without a lot of questions being asked, and none of us here has any very convincing answers up all sleeves. Clayton remonstrated against the inhumanity of landing them upon an unknown shore to be left to the mercies of savage beasts and possibly still more savage men. But his words were of no avail, and only tended to anger Black Michael, so he was forced to desist and make the best he could of a bad situation. About three o'clock in the afternoon, they came about off a beautiful wooded shore opposite the mouth of what appeared to be a landlocked harbour. Black Michael sent a small boat filled with men to sound the entrance in an effort to determine if the Foualde could be safely worked through the entrance. In about an hour they returned and reported deep water through the passage as well as far into the little basin. Before dark the bark and tean lay peacefully at anchor upon the bosom of the still, mirror-like surface of the harbour. The surrounding shores were beautiful with semi-tropical verdure, while in the distance the country rose from the ocean and hill and table-land, almost uniformly clothed by primeval forest. No signs of habitation were visible, but that the land might easily support human life was evidenced by the abundant bird and animal life of which the watchers on the Foualde's deck caught occasional glimpses, as well as by the shimmer of a little river which emptied into the harbour, ensuring fresh water in plenitude. As darkness settled upon the earth, Clayton and Lady Alice still stood by the ship's rail and silent contemplation of their future abode. From the dark shadows of the mighty forest came the wild calls of savage beasts, the deep roar of the lion, and occasionally the shrill scream of a panther. The woman shrank closer to the man in terror stricken anticipation of the horrors lying in wait for them in the awful blackness of the nights to come, when they should be alone upon that wild and lonely shore. Later in the evening Black Michael joined them long enough to instruct them to make their preparations for landing on the morrow. They tried to persuade him to take them to some more hospitable coast near enough to civilization so that they might hope to fall into friendly hands, but no pleas or threats or promises of reward could move him. I am the only man aboard who would not rather see both safely dead, and while I know that's the sensible way to make sure of our own necks, yet Black Michael's not the man to forget a favour. You save my life once, and in return I'm going to spare yours, and that's all I can do. The men won't stand for any more, and if we don't get you landed pretty quick they may even change their minds about giving you that much show. I'll put all your stuff ashore with you, as well as cooking utensils and some old sails for tents, and enough grub to last you until you can find fruit and game. With your guns for protection you ought to be able to live here easy enough until help comes. When I get safely hit away I'll see to it that the British government learns about where you be, for the life of me I couldn't tell them exactly where for I don't know myself, they'll find you all right. After he had left them they went silently below, each wrapped in gloomy forebodings. Clayton did not believe that Black Michael had the slightest intention of notifying the British government of their whereabouts, nor was he any too sure but that some treachery was contemplated for the following day when they should be on shore with the sailors who would have to accompany them with their belongings. Once out of Black Michael's sight any of the men might strike them down and still leave Black Michael's conscience clear. And even should they escape that fate was it not but to be faced with far graver dangers? Alone he might hope to survive for years, for he was a strong athletic man. But what of Alice and that other little life so soon to be launched amidst the hardships and grave dangers of a primeval world? The man shuddered as he meditated upon the awful gravity, the fearful helplessness of their situation. But it was a merciful providence which prevented him from foreseeing the hideous reality which awaited them in the grim depths of that gloomy wood. Early next morning their numerous chests and boxes were hoisted on deck and lowered to waiting small boats for transportation to shore. There was a great quantity and variety of stuff, as Claytons had expected a possible five to eight years' residence in their new home. Thus, in addition to the many necessities they had brought, there were also many luxuries. Black Michael was determined that nothing belonging to the Claytons should be left on board. Whether out of compassion for them or in furtherance of his own self-interest, it would be difficult to say. There was no question but that the presence of property of a missing British official upon a suspicious vessel would have been a difficult thing to explain in any civilised port in the world. So zealous was he in his efforts to carry out his intentions that he insisted upon the return of Claytons' revolvers to him by the sailors and whose possession they were. Into the small boats were also loaded salt meats and basket, with a small supply of potatoes and beans, matches and cooking vessels, a chest of tools, and the old sails which Black Michael had promised them. As though himself fearing the very thing which Clayton had suspected, Black Michael accompanied them to shore, and was the last to leave them when the small boats, having filled the ship's cask with fresh water, were pushed out toward the waiting foalda. As the boats moved slowly over the smooth waters of the bay, Clayton and his wife stood silently, watching their departure, in the breast of both a feeling of impending disaster and utter hopelessness, and behind them, over the edge of a low ridge, other eyes watched, close set, wicked eyes gleaming beneath shaggy brows. As the foalda passed through the narrow entrance to the harbor, and out of sight behind a projecting point, Lady Alice threw her arms about Clayton's neck and burst into uncontrolled sobs. Bravely had she faced the dangers of the mutiny, with heroic fortitude she had looked into the terrible future, but now that the horror of absolute solitude was upon them, her overwrought nerves gave way, and the reaction came. Lady did not attempt to check her tears. It were better that nature have her way in relieving these long-pent emotions, and it was many minutes before the girl, little more than a child she was, could again gain mastery of herself. Oh, John! she cried at last. The horror of it! What are we to do? What are we to do? There is but one thing to do, Alice. And he spoke as quietly as though they were sitting in their snug living room at home. And that is work. Work must be our salvation. We must not give ourselves time to think, for in that direction lies madness. We must work and wait. I am sure that relief will come and come quickly, when once it is apparent that the foalda has been lost, even though Black Michael does not keep his word to us. But, John, if it were only you and I—she sobbed—we could endure it, I know, but— Yes, dear, he answered gently. I have been thinking of that also. But we must face it, as we must face whatever comes, bravely and with the utmost confidence in our ability to cope with circumstances whatever they may be. Hundreds of thousands of years ago our ancestors of the dim and distant past faced the same problems which we must face, possibly in these same primeval forests. That we are here today evidence is their victory. What they did may we not do, and even better, for are we not armed with ages of superior knowledge, and have we not the means of protection, defense, and sustenance which science has given us, but of which they were totally ignorant? What they accomplished, Alice, with instruments and weapons of stone and bone—surely that may we accomplish also. Ah, John, I wish that I might be a man with a man's philosophy, but I am but a woman, seeing with my heart rather than my head, and all that I can see is too horrible, too unthinkable to put into words. I can only hope you are right, John. I would do my best to be a brave, primeval woman—a fit mate for the primeval man. Clayton's first thought was to arrange a sleeping-shelter for the night, something which might serve to protect them from prowling beasts of prey. He opened the box containing his rifles and ammunition, that they might both be armed against possible attack while at work, and then together they sought a location for their first night's sleeping-place. A hundred yards from the beach was a little level spot, fairly free of trees. Here they decided eventually to build a permanent house. But for the time being they both thought it best to construct a little platform in the trees, out of reach of the larger of the savage beasts in whom's realm they were. To this end Clayton selected four trees which formed a rectangle about eight feet square. And cutting long branches from other trees he constructed a framework around them, about ten feet from the ground, fastening the ends of the branches securely to the trees by means of rope, a quantity of which Black Michael had furnished him from the hold of the Fulda. Across this framework Clayton placed other smaller branches quite close together. This platform he paved with the huge fronds of elephants here which grew in profusion about them, and over the fronds he laid a great sail folded into several thicknesses. Seven feet higher he constructed a similar, though lighter, platform to serve as roof, and from the sides of this he suspended the balance of his sailcloth for walls. When completed he had a rather snug little nest to which they carried their blankets and some of the lighter luggage. It was now late in the afternoon, and the balance of the daylight hours were devoted to the building of a rude ladder by means of which Lady Alice could mount to her new home. All during the day the forest about them had been filled with excited birds of brilliant plumage and dancing, chattering monkeys who watched these new arrivals and their wonderful nest-building operations with every mark of keenest interest and fascination. Notwithstanding that both Clayton and his wife kept a sharp look-out, they saw nothing of larger animals, though on two occasions they had seen their little simian neighbors come screaming and chattering from the nearby ridge, casting frightened glances back over their little shoulders, and evincing as plainly as though by speech that they were fleeing some terrible thing which lay concealed there. Just before dusk Clayton finished his ladder, and filling a great basin with water from the nearby stream, the two mounted to the comparative safety of their aerial chamber. As it was quite warm, Clayton had left the side curtains thrown back over the roof, and as they sat like turks upon their blankets, Lady Alice, straining her eyes into the darkening shadows of the wood, suddenly reached out and grasped Clayton's arms. John, she whispered, Look, what is it, a man? As Clayton turned his eyes in the direction she indicated, he saw silhouetted dimly against the shadows beyond, a great figure standing upright upon the ridge. For a moment it stood as though listening, and then turned slowly, and melted into the shadows of the jungle. What is it, John? I do not know, Alice, he answered gravely. It is too dark to see so far, and it may have been but a shadow cast by the rising moon. No, John, if it was not a man it was some huge and grotesque mockery of man. Oh, I am afraid! He gathered her into his arms, whispering words of courage and love into her ears. Soon after he lowered the curtain walls, tying them securely to the trees so that, except for a little opening toward the beach, they were entirely enclosed. As it was now pitch dark within their tiny airy, they lay down upon their blankets to try to gain, through sleep, a brief respite of forgetfulness. Clayton lay facing the opening at the front, a rifle and a brace of revolvers at his hand. Scarcely had they closed their eyes, then the terrifying cry of a panther rang out from the jungle up behind them. Closer and closer it came until they could hear the great beast directly beneath them. For an hour or more they heard it sniffing and clawing at the trees which supported their platform, but at last it roamed away across the beach, where Clayton could see it clearly in the brilliant moonlight. A great handsome beast, the largest he had ever seen. During the long hours of darkness they caught but fitful snatches of sleep. For the night noises of a great jungle teeming with myriad animal life kept their overwrought nerves on edge, so that a hundred times they were startled to wakefulness by piercing screams or the stealthy moving of great bodies beneath them. CHAPTER 3 LIFE AND DEATH Morning found them but little, if at all refreshed, though it was with a feeling of intense relief that they saw the day dawn. As soon as they had made their meager breakfast of salt-pork, coffee and biscuit, Clayton commenced work upon their house, for he realized that they could hope for no safety and no peace of mind at night until four strong walls effectually barred the jungle life from them. The task was an arduous one and required the better part of a month, though he built but one small room. He constructed his cappin of small logs about six inches in diameter, stopping the chinks with Clay which he found at the depth of a few feet beneath the surface soil. At one end he built a fireplace of small stones from the beach. These also he set in Clay, and when the house had been entirely completed he applied a coating of the Clay to the entire outside surface to the thickness of four inches. In the window opening he set small branches about one inch in diameter, both vertically and horizontally, and so woven that they formed a substantial grating that could withstand the strength of a powerful animal, thus the obtained air and proper ventilation without fear of lessening the safety of their cabin. The a-shaped roof was thatched with small branches laid close together, and over these long jungle grass and palm fronds with a final coating of Clay. At door he built of pieces of the packing boxes which had held their belongings, nailing one piece upon another, the grain of continuous layers running transversely, until he had a solid body some three inches thick and of such great strength that they were both moved to laughter as they gazed upon it. Here the greatest difficulty confronted Clayton, for he had no means whereby to hang his mass at door now that he had built it. For two days' work, however, he succeeded in fashioning two massive hardwood hinges, and with these he hung the door so that it opened and closed easily. The stuccoing and other final touches were added after they moved into the house, which they had done as soon as the roof was on, piling their boxes before the door at night, and thus having a comparatively safe and comfortable habitation. The building of a bed, chairs, table, and shelves was a relatively easy matter, so that by the end of the second month they were well settled, and but for the constant dread of attack by wild beasts and the ever-growing loneliness they were not uncomfortable or unhappy. At night great beasts gnarled and roared about their tiny cabin, but so accustomed made one become to off-repeated noises that soon they paid little attention to them, sleeping soundly the whole night through. Thrice had they caught fleeting glimpses of great manlike figures like that of the first night, but never at sufficiently close range to know positively whether the half-seen forms were those of man or brute. The brilliant birds and the little monkeys had become accustomed to their new acquaintances, and as they had evidently never seen human beings before, they presently, after their first fright had worn off, approached closer and closer, impilled by that strange curiosity which dominates the wild creatures of the forests and the jungle and the plain, so that within the first month several of the birds had gone so far as even to accept morsels of food from the friendly hands of the Claytons. One afternoon, while Clayton was working upon an addition to their cabin, for he contemplated building several more rooms, a number of their grotesque little friends came shrieking and scolding through the trees from the direction of the ridge. Ever as they fled they cast fearful glances back of them, and finally they stopped near Clayton, jabbering excitedly to him as though to warn him of approaching danger. At last he saw it, the thing the little monkeys so feared, the man brute of which the Claytons had caught occasional fleeting glimpses. It was approaching through the jungle in a semi-erect position, and now in them placing the backs of its close fists upon the ground, a great anthropoid ape, and as it advanced it emitted deep guttural growls and an occasional low barking sound. Clayton was at some distance from the cabin, having come to fell a particularly perfect tree for his building operations. Clayton careless from months of continued safety, during which time he had seen no dangerous animals during the daylight hours. He had left his rifles and revolvers all within the little cabin, and now that he saw the great ape crashing through the underbrush directly toward him, and from a direction which practically cut him off from escape, he felt a vague little shiver play up and down his spine. He knew that, armed only with an axe, his chances with this ferocious monster were small indeed, and Alice, oh God, he thought, what will become of Alice? There was yet a slight chance of reaching the cabin. He turned and ran toward it, shouting an alarm to his wife to run in, and closed the great door in case the ape cut off his retreat. Lady Greystoke had been sitting a little away from the cabin, and when she heard his cry, she looked up to see the ape springing with almost incredible swiftness, for so large and awkward an animal, in an effort to head off Clayton. With a low cry she sprang toward the cabin, and as she entered gave a backward glance which filled her soul with terror, for the brood had intercepted her husband, who now stood at bay grasping his axe with both hands, ready to swing it upon the infuriated animal when he should make his final charge. Close and bolt the door, Alice, cried Clayton. I can finish this fellow with my axe. But he knew he was facing a horrible death, and so did she. The ape was a great bull, weighing probably three hundred pounds. His nasty, close-set eyes gleamed hatred from beneath his shaggy brows, while his great canine fangs were bared in a horrid snarl as he paused a moment before his prey. Over the brood shoulder Clayton could see the doorway of his cabin, not twenty paces distant, and a great wave of horror and fear swept over him as he saw his young wife emerge, armed with one of his rifles. She had always been afraid of firearms, and would never touch them, but now she rushed toward the ape with the fearlessness of a lioness protecting its young. Back, Alice! shouted Clayton, for God's sake, go back! But she would not heed, and just then the ape charged, so that Clayton could say no more. The man swung his axe with all his mighty strength, but the powerful brute seized it in those terrible hands, and tearing it from Clayton's grasp hurled it far to one side. With an ugly snarl he closed upon his defenseless victim, but ere his fangs had reached the throat they thirsted for. There was a sharp report, and a bullet entered the ape's back between his shoulders. Throwing Clayton to the ground the beast turned upon his new enemy. There before him stood the terrified girl, vainly trying to fire another bullet into the animal's body, but she did not understand the mechanism of the firearm, and the hammer fell futilely upon an empty cartridge. Almost simultaneously Clayton regained his feet, and without thought of the utter hopelessness of it he rushed forward to drag the ape from his wife's prostrate form. With little or no effort he succeeded, and the great bulk rolled inertly upon the turf before him. The ape was dead. The bullet had done its work. A hasty examination of his wife revealed no marks upon her, and Clayton decided that the huge brute had died the instant he had sprung toward Alice. Gently he lifted his wife still unconscious form, and bore her to the little cabin. But it was fully two hours before she regained consciousness. Her first words filled Clayton with vague apprehension. For some time after regaining her senses Alice gazed wonderingly about the interior of the little cabin, and then with a satisfied sigh, said, Oh, John, it is so good to be really home. I've had an awful dream, dear. I thought we were no longer in London, but in some horrible place where great beasts attacked us. There, there, Alice, he said, stroking her forehead, tried to sleep again, and do not worry your head about bad dreams. That night a little sun was born in the tiny cabin beside the primeval forest, while a leopard screamed before the door, and the deep notes of a lion's roar sounded from beyond the ridge. Lady Greystoke never recovered from the shock of the great ape's attack, and though she lived for a year after her baby was born, she was never again outside the cabin, nor did she ever fully realize that she was not in England. Sometimes she would question Clayton as to the strange noises of the nights, the absence of servants and friends, and the strange rudeness of the furnishings within her room. But though he made no effort to deceive her, never could she grasp the meaning of it all. In other ways she was quite rational, and the joy and happiness she took in the possession of her little son and the constant attentions of her husband made that year a very happy one for her, the happiest of her young life. That it would have been beset by worries and apprehension had she been in full command of her mental faculties, Clayton well knew, so that while he suffered terribly to see her so, there were times when he was almost glad, for her sake, that she could not understand. Long since had he given up any hope of rescue, except through accident. With unremitting zeal he had worked to beautify the interior of the cabin. Skins of lion and panther covered the floor. Covers and bookcases lined the walls. Odd vases made by his own hand from the clay of the region held beautiful tropical flowers. Curtains of grass and bamboo covered the windows, and most arduous task of all, with his meagre assortment of tools he had fashioned lumber to neatly seal the walls and ceiling and lay a smooth floor within the cabin. That he had been able to turn his hands at all to such unaccustomed labor was a source of mild wonder to him. But he loved the work because it was for her and the tiny life that had come to cheer them, though adding a hundred fold to his responsibilities and to the terribleness of their situation. During the year that followed Clayton was several times attacked by the great apes, which now seemed to continually infest the vicinity of the cabin. But as he never again ventured outside without both rifle and revolvers he had little fear of the huge beasts. He had strengthened the window protections and fitted a unique wooden lock to the cabin door, so that when he hunted for game and fruit says it was constantly necessary for him to do to ensure sustenance, he had no fear that any animal could break into the little home. At first he shot much of the game from the cabin windows, but toward the end the animals learned to fear the strange lair from whence issued the terrifying thunder of his rifle. In his leisure Clayton read, often allowed to his wife, from the store of books he had brought for their new home. Among these were many for little children, picture books, primers, readers, for they had known that their little child would be old enough for such before they might hope to return to England. At other times Clayton rode in its diary, which he had always been accustomed to keep in French, and in which he recorded the details of their strange life. This book he kept locked in a little metal box. A year from the day her little son was born, Lady Alice passed quietly away in the night. So peaceful was her end, that it was hours before Clayton could awake to a realization that his wife was dead. The horror of the situation came to him very slowly, and it is doubtful that he ever fully realized the enormity of his sorrow and the fearful responsibility that had devolved upon him with the care of that wee thing his son, still a nursing babe. The last entry in his diary was made the morning following her death, and there he recites the sad details in a matter-of-fact way that adds to the pathos of it. Her breathes a tired apathy, born of long sorrow and hopelessness, which even this cruel blow could scarcely awake to further suffering. My little son is crying for nourishment, oh Alice, Alice, what shall I do? And as John Clayton wrote the last words his hand was destined ever to pen. He dropped his head wearily upon his outstretched arms, where they rested upon the table he had built for her, who lay still and cold in the bed beside him. For a long time no sound broke the death-like stillness of the jungle midday save the piteous wailing of the tiny man-child. CHAPTER IV In the forest of the table-end a mile back from the ocean, old Kerchak the ape was on a rampage of rage among his people. The younger and lighter members of his tribe scampered to the higher branches of the great trees to escape his wrath, risking their lives upon branches that scarce supported their weight rather than face-old Kerchak in one of his fits of uncontrolled anger. The other males scattered in all directions, but not before the infuriated brute had felt the vertebra of one snap between his great foaming jaws. A luckless young female slipped from an insecure hold upon a high branch and came crashing to the ground almost at Kerchak's feet. With a wild scream he was upon her, tearing a great piece from her side with his mighty teeth, and striking her viciously upon her head and shoulders with a broken tree-limb until her skull was crushed to a jelly. And then he spied Kayla, who, returning from a search for food with her young babe, was ignorant of the state of the mighty male's temper until suddenly the shrill warnings of her fellows caused her to scamper madly for safety. But Kerchak was close upon her, so close that he had almost grasped her ankle had she not made a furious leap far into space from one tree to another, a perilous chance which apes seldom if ever take, so closely pursued by danger that there is no alternative. She made the leap successfully, but as she grasped the limb of the further tree the sudden jar loosened the hold of the tiny babe where it clung frantically to her neck, and she saw the little thing hurled, turning and twisting to the ground, thirty feet below. With a low cry of dismay Kayla rushed headlong to its side, thoughtless now of the danger from Kerchak, but when she gathered the wee mangled form to her bosom, life had left it. With low moans she sat cuddling the body to her, nor did Kerchak attempt to molest her. With the death of the babe his fit of demoniacal rage passed as suddenly as it had seized him. Kerchak was a huge king ape, weighing perhaps three hundred and fifty pounds. His forehead was extremely low and receding, his eyes, bloodshot, small and close set to his coarse flat nose, his ears large and thin but smaller than most of his kind. His awful temper and his mighty strength made him supreme among the little tribe into which he had been born some twenty years before. Now that he was in his prime there was no semean and all the mighty forest through which he roved that dare contest his right to rule, nor did the other enlarger animals molest him. Old Tantor, the elephant, alone of all the wild savage life, feared him not, and he alone did Kerchak fear. When Tantor trumpeted the great ape scurried with his fellows high among the trees of the second terrace. The tribe of anthropoids over which Kerchak ruled with an iron hand and bared fangs, numbered some six or eight families, each family consisting of an adult male with his females and their young, numbering in all some sixty or seventy apes. Kayla was the youngest mate of a male called Tublat, meaning broken nose, and the child she had seen dashed to death was her first, for she was but nine or ten years old. Notwithstanding her youth she was large and powerful, a splendid, clean-limbed animal with a round high forehead which denoted more intelligence than most of her kind possessed. So also she had a great capacity for mother love and mother sorrow. But she was still an ape, a huge, fierce, terrible beast of a species closely allied to the gorilla, yet more intelligent, which with the strength of their cousin made her kind the most fearsome of those all inspiring progenitors of man. When the tribe saw the Kerchak's rage had ceased they came slowly down from their arboreal retreats and pursued again the various occupations which he had interrupted. The young played and froliced about among the trees and bushes. Some of the adults lay prone upon the soft mat of dead and decaying vegetation which covered the ground, while others turned over pieces of fallen branches and clods of earth in search of the small bugs and reptiles which formed a part of their food. Others again searched the surrounding trees for fruit, nuts, small birds, and eggs. They had passed an hour or so thus when Kerchak called them together and with a word of command to them to follow him set off toward the sea. They travelled for the most part upon the ground where it was open, following the path of the great elephants whose comings and goings break the only roads through those tangled mazes of bush, vine, creeper, and tree. When they walked it was with a rolling awkward motion, placing the knuckles of their closed hands upon the ground and swinging their ungainly bodies forward. But when the way was through the lower trees they moved more swiftly, swinging from branch to branch with the agility of their smaller cousins, the monkeys, and all the way Kayla carried her little dead baby hugged closely to her breast. It was shortly afternoon when they reached a ridge overlooking the beach where below them lay the tidy cottage which was Kerchak's goal. He had seen many of his kind go to their deaths before the loud noise made by the little black stick in the hands of the strange white ape who lived in that wonderful lair, and Kerchak had made up his brute mind to own that death-dealing contrivance and to explore the interior of the mysterious den. He wanted very, very much to feel his teeth sink into the neck of the queer animal that he had learned to hate and fear, and because of this he came off him with his tribe to reconnoiter, waiting for a time when the white ape should be off his guard. Of late they had quit attacking, or even showing themselves, for every time they had done so in the past the little stick had roared out its terrible message of death to some member of the tribe. Today there was no sign of the man about, and from where they watched they could see that the cabin door was open. Slowly, cautiously, and noiselessly they crept through the jungle toward the little cabin. There were no growls, no fierce screams of rage. The little black stick had taught them to come quietly lest they awaken it. On, on they came until Kerchak himself slunk stealthily to the very door and peered within. Behind him were two males, and then Kayla, closely straining the little dead form to her breast. Inside the den they saw the strange white ape lying half a cross a table, his head buried in his arms, and on the bed lay a figure covered by a sailcloth, while from a tiny rustic cradle came the plaintive wailing of a babe. Noiselessly Kerchak entered, crouching for the charge, and then John Clayton rose with a sudden start and faced them. The sight that met his eyes must have frozen him with horror, for there within the door stood three great bull apes, while behind them crowded many more. How many he never knew, for his revolvers were hanging on the far wall beside his rifle, and Kerchak was charging. When the king ape released the limp form which had been John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, he turned his attention toward the little cradle. But Kayla was there before him, and when he would have grasped the child, she snatched it herself, and before he could intercept her she had bolted through the door and taken refuge in a high tree. As she took up the little live baby of Alice Clayton she dropped the dead body of her own into the empty cradle, for the wail of the living had answered the call of universal motherhood within her wild breast, which the dead could not still. High up among the branches of a mighty tree she hugged the shrieking infant to her bosom, and soon the instinct that was as dominant in this fierce female as it had been in the breast of his tender and beautiful mother, the instinct of mother-love, reached out to the tiny man-child's half-formed understanding, and he became quiet. Then hunger closed the gap between them, and the son of an English lord and an English lady nursed at the breast of Kayla, the great ape. In the meantime the beasts within the cabin were warily examining the contents of this strange lair. Once satisfied that Clayton was dead, Kerchak turned his attention to the thing which lay upon the bed, covered by a piece of sail-cloth. Gingerly he lifted one corner of the shroud, but when he saw the body of the woman beneath he tore the cloth roughly from her form, and seized the still white throat in his huge hairy hands. A moment he led his fingers sink deep into the cold flesh, and then, realizing that she was already dead, he turned from her to examine the contents of the room, nor did he again molest the body of either Lady Alice or Sir John. The rifle hanging upon the wall caught his first attention. It was for this strange, death-dealing thunder-stick that he had yearned for months. But now that it was within his grasp he scarcely had the temerity to seize it. Cautiously he approached the thing, ready to flee precipitately should it speak in its deep, roaring tones. As he had heard it speak before, the last words to those of his kind who, through ignorance or rashness, had attacked the wonderful white ape that had borne it. Deep in the beast's intelligence was something which assured him that the thunder-stick was only dangerous when in the hands of one who could manipulate it. But yet it was several minutes ere he could bring himself to touch it. Instead he walked back and forth along the floor before it, turning his head so that never once did his eyes leave the object of his desire. Using his long arms as a man uses crutches, and rolling his huge carcass from side to side with each stride, the great king ape paced to and fro, uttering deep growls, occasionally punctuated with the ear-piercing scream, than which there is no more terrifying noise in all the jungle. Presently he halted before the rifle. Slowly he raised a huge hand until it almost touched the shining barrel, only to withdraw it once more and continue his hurried pacing. It was as though the great brute by this show of fearlessness, and through the medium of his wild voice, was endeavoring to bolster up his courage to the point which would permit him to take the rifle in his hand. Again he stopped, and this time succeeded in forcing his reluctant hand to the cold steel, only to snatch it away almost immediately and resume his restless beat. Time after time this strange ceremony was repeated, but on each occasion with increased confidence, until finally the rifle was torn from its hook and lay in the grasp of the great brute. Finding that it harmed him not, Kerchak began to examine it closely. He felt of it from end to end, peered down the black depths of the muzzle, fingered the sights, the breach, the stock, and finally the trigger. During all these operations the apes who had entered sat huddled near the door watching their chief, while those outside strained and crowded to catch a glimpse of what transpired within. Suddenly Kerchak's finger closed upon the trigger. There was a deafening roar in the little room, and the apes at and beyond the door fell over one another in their wild anxiety to escape. Kerchak was equally frightened, so frightened, in fact, that he quite forgot to throw aside the author of that fearful noise, but bolded for the door with it tightly clutched in one hand. As he passed through the opening, the front side of the rifle caught upon the edge of the enswung door with sufficient force to close it tightly after the fleeing ape. When Kerchak came to a halt a short distance from the cabin and discovered that he still held the rifle, he dropped it as he might have dropped a red-hot iron, nor did he again attempt to recover it. The noise was too much for his brute nerves, but he was now quite convinced that the terrible stick was quite harmless by itself if left alone. It was an hour before the apes could again bring themselves to approach the cabin to continue their investigations, and when they finally did so, they found to their chagrin that the door was closed and so securely fastened that they could not force it. The cleverly constructed latch which Clayton had made for the door had sprung as Kerchak passed out, nor could the apes find means of ingress through the heavily barred windows. After roaming about the vicinity for a short time, they started back for the deeper forests and the higher land from whence they had come. Kayla had not once come to earth with her little adopted babe, but now Kerchak called to her to descend with the rest, and as there was no note of anger in his voice, she dropped lightly from branch to branch and joined the others on their homeward march. Those of the apes who attempted to examine Kayla's strange baby were repulsed with bared fangs and low menacing growls, accompanied by words of warning from Kayla. When they assured her that they meant the child no harm, she permitted them to come close, but would not allow them to touch her charge. It was as though she knew that her baby was frail and delicate and feared lest the rough hands of her fellows might injure the little thing. Another thing she did, and which made her traveling an honorous trial for her. Remembering the death of her own little one, she clung desperately to the new babe, with one hand, whenever they were upon the march. The other young rode upon their mother's backs, their little arms tightly clasping the hairy necks before them, while their legs were locked beneath their mother's armpits. Not so with Kayla, she held the small form of the little Lord Grey Stoke tightly to her breast, where the dainty hands clutched the long black hair which covered that portion of her body. She had seen one child fall from her back to a terrible death, and she would take no further chances with this. CHAPTER 5 THE WHITE APE Tenderly Kayla nursed her little wife, wondering silently why it did not gain strength and agility as did the little apes of other mothers. It was nearly a year from the time the little fellow came into her possession before he would walk alone, and as for climbing, my, but how stupid he was. Kayla sometimes talked with the older females about her young hopeful, but none of them could understand how a child could be so slow and backward in learning to care for itself. Why, it could not even find food alone, and more than twelve moons had passed since Kayla had come upon it. Had they known that the child had seen thirteen moons before it had come into Kayla's possession, they would have considered its case as absolutely hopeless, for the little apes of their own tribe were as far advanced in two or three moons as was this little stranger after twenty-five. To Blatt, Kayla's husband, was sorely vexed, and but for the females careful watching would have put the child out of the way. He will never be a great ape, he argued. Always will you have to carry him and protect him. What good will he be to the tribe? None, only a burden. Let us leave him quietly sleeping among the tall grasses, that you may bear other in stronger apes to guard us in our old age. Never broken nose, replied Kayla, if I must carry him forever, so be it. And then to Blatt went to Kurchak to urge him to use his authority with Kayla, and force her to give up little Tarzan, which was the name they had given to the tiny Lord Grey Stoke, and which meant White Skin. But when Kurchak spoke to her about it Kayla threatened to run away from the tribe if they did not leave her in peace with the child. And as this is one of the inalienable rights of the jungle folk, if they be dissatisfied among their own people they bothered her no more, for Kayla was a fine, clean-limbed young female, and they did not wish to lose her. As Tarzan grew he made more rapid strides, so that by the time he was ten years old he was an excellent climber, and on the ground could do many wonderful things which were beyond the powers of his little brothers and sisters. In many ways did he differ from them, and they often marvelled at his superior cunning, but in strength and size he was deficient. For at ten the great anthropoids were fully grown, some of them towering over six feet in height, while little Tarzan was still but a half-grown boy. That's such a boy! From early childhood he had used his hands to swing from branch to branch after the manner of his giant mother, and as he grew older he spent hour upon hour daily speeding through the treetops with his brothers and sisters. He could spring twenty feet across space at the dizzy heights of the forest top, and grasp with unerring precision and without apparent jar, a limb waving wildly in the path of an approaching tornado. He could drop twenty feet at a stretch from limb to limb in rapid descent to the ground, or he could gain the utmost pinnacle of the loftiest tropical giant with the ease and swiftness of a squirrel. Though but ten years old he was fully as strong as the average man of thirty and far more agile than the most practised athlete ever becomes, and day by day his strength was increasing. His life among these fierce apes had been happy, for his recollection held no other life, nor did he know that there existed within the universe ought else than his little forest and the wild jungle animals with which he was familiar. He was nearly ten before he commenced to realise that a great difference existed between himself and his fellows. His little body, burned brown by exposure, suddenly caused him feelings of intense shame, for he realised that it was entirely hairless, like some low snake or other reptile. He attempted to obviate this by plastering himself from head to foot with mud, but this dried and fell off. Besides it felt so uncomfortable that he quickly decided that he preferred the shame to the discomfort. In the higher land which his tribe frequented was a little lake, and it was here that Tarzan first saw his face in the clear still waters of its bosom. It was on a sultry day, of the driest season, that he and one of his cousins had gone down to the bank to drink. As they leaned over, both little faces were mirrored on the placid pool, the fierce and terrible features of the ape beside those of the aristocratic sky and of an old English house. Tarzan was appalled. It had been bad enough to be hairless but to own such accountants. He wondered that the other apes could look at him at all. That tiny slit of a mouth and those puny white teeth, how they looked beside the mighty lips and powerful fangs of his more fortunate brothers. And the little pinched nose of his, so thin was it that it looked half-starved. He turned red as he compared it with the beautiful broad nostrils of his companion. Such a generous nose! Why, it spread half across his face! It certainly must be fine to be so handsome, thought poor little Tarzan. But when he saw his own eyes, ah, that was the final blow. A brown spot, a gray circle, and then blank whiteness. Frightful, not even the snakes had such hideous eyes as he. So intent was he upon this personal appraisement of his features that he did not hear the parting of the tall grass behind him as a great body pushed itself stealthily through the jungle. Nor did his companion the ape hear either, for he was drinking and the noise of his sucking lips and gurgles of satisfaction drowned the quiet approach of the intruder. Not thirty paces behind the two she crouched. Sabor, the huge lioness, lashing her tail. Cautiously she moved a great padded paw forward, noiselessly placing it before she lifted the next. Then she advanced, her belly low, almost touching the surface of the ground, a great cat preparing to spring upon its prey. Now she was within ten feet of the two unsuspecting little playfellows. Carefully she drew her hind feet well up beneath her body, the great muscles rolling under the beautiful skin. So low she was crouching now that she seemed to flatten to the earth except for the upward bend of the glossy back as it gathered for the spring. No longer the tail lashed, quiet and straight behind her at lay. An instant she paused thus as though turned to stone, and then, with an awful scream, she sprang. Before the lioness was a wise hunter. To one less wise the wild alarm of her fierce cry as she sprang would have seemed a foolish thing. For could she not more surely have fallen upon her victims had she but quietly leaped without that loud shriek? But Sabor knew well the wondrous quickness of the jungle folk and their almost unbelievable powers of hearing. To them the sudden scraping of one blade of grass across another was as effectual a warning as her loudest cry, and Sabor knew that she could not make that mighty leap without a little noise. Her wild scream was not a warning. It was voiced to freeze her poor victims in a paralysis of terror for the tiny fraction of an instant which would suffice for her mighty claws to sink into their soft flesh and hold them beyond hope of escape. So far as the ape was concerned, Sabor reasoned correctly. The little fellow crouched trembling just an instant, but that instant was quite long enough to prove his undoing. Not so, however, with Tarzan the man-child. His life amidst the dangers of the jungle had taught him to meet emergencies with self-confidence, and his higher intelligence resulted in a quickness of mental action far beyond the powers of the apes. So the scream of Sabor, the lioness, galvanized the brain and muscles of little Tarzan into instant action. Before him lay the deep waters of the little lake behind him certain death, a cruel death beneath tearing claws and rending fangs. Tarzan had always hated water, except as a medium for quenching his thirst. He hated it because he connected it with the chill and discomfort of the torrential rains, and he feared it for the thunder and lightning and wind which accompanied them. The deep waters of the lake he had been taught by his wild mother to avoid, and further, had he not seen little Nita sink beneath its quiet surface only a few short weeks before, never to return to the tribe? But of the two evils his quick mind chose the lesser ere the first note of Sabor's scream had scarce broken the quiet of the jungle, and before the great beast had covered half her leap, Tarzan felt the chill waters close above his head. He could not swim, and the water was very deep, but still he lost no particle of that self-confidence and resourcefulness which were the badges of his superior being. Rapidly he moved his hands and feet in an attempt to scramble upward, and possibly more by chance than design he fell into the stroke that a dog uses when swimming, so that within a few seconds his nose was above water, and he found that he could keep it there by continuing his strokes, and also make progress through the water. He was much surprised and pleased with this new acquirement which had been so suddenly thrust upon him, but he had no time for thinking much upon it. He was now swimming parallel to the bank, and there he saw the cruel beast that would have seized him, crouching upon the still form of his little playmate. The lioness was intently watching Tarzan, evidently expecting him to return to shore, but this the boy had no intention of doing. Instead he raised his voice and the call of distress common to his tribe, adding to it the warning which would prevent would-be rescuers from running into the clutches of Sabor. Almost immediately there came an answer from the distance, and presently forty or fifty great apes swung rapidly and majestically through the trees toward the scene of tragedy. In the lead was Kayla, for she had recognized the tones of her best beloved, and with her was the mother of the little ape who lay dead beneath cruel Sabor. Though more powerful and better equipped for fighting than the apes, the lioness had no desire to meet these enraged adults, and with a snarl of hatred she sprang quickly into the brush and disappeared. Tarzan now swam to shore and clamber quickly upon dry land. The feeling of freshness and acceleration which the cool waters had imparted to him filled his little being with grateful surprise, and ever after he lost no opportunity to take a daily plunge in lake or stream or ocean when it was possible to do so. For a long time Kayla could not accustom herself to the site, for though her people could swim when forced to it, they did not like to enter water, and never did so voluntarily. The adventure with the lioness gave Tarzan food for pleasurable memories, for it was such affairs which broke the monotony of his daily life, otherwise but a dull round of searching for food, eating, and sleeping. The tribe to which he belonged roamed a tract extending roughly twenty-five miles along the sea coast and some fifty miles inland. This they traversed almost continually, occasionally remaining for months in one locality, but as they moved through the trees with great speed they often covered the territory in a very few days. Much depended upon food supply, climatic conditions, and the prevalence of animals of the more dangerous species, though Kirchak often led them on long marches for no other reason than that he had tired of remaining in the same place. At night they slept where darkness overtook them, lying upon the ground, and sometimes covering their heads, and more seldom their bodies, with the great leaves of the elephants ear. Two or three might lie cuddled in each other's arms for additional warmth if the night were chill, and thus Tarzan had slept in Kayla's arms nightly for all these years. That the huge fierce brute love this child of another race is beyond question, and he too gave to the great hairy beast all the affection that would have belonged to his fair young mother had she lived. When he was disobedient she cuffed him, it is true, but she was never cruel to him, and was more often caressing him than chastising him. To Blatt her mate always hated Tarzan, and on several occasions had come near ending his youthful career. Tarzan on his part never lost an opportunity to show that he fully reciprocated his foster father's sentiments, and whenever he could safely annoy him, or make faces at him, or hurl insults upon him from the safety of his mother's arms, or the slender branches of the higher trees, he did so. His superior intelligence in cunning permitted him to invent a thousand diabolical tricks to add to the burdens of two Blatt's life. In his boyhood he had learned to form ropes by twisting and tying long grasses together, and with these he was forever tripping to Blatt, or attempting to hang him from some overhanging branch. By constant playing and experimenting with these he learned to tie rude knots, and make sliding nooses, and with these he and the younger apes amused themselves. What Tarzan did they tried to do also, but he alone originated and became proficient. One day while playing thus Tarzan had thrown his rope at one of his fleeing companions, retaining the other end in his grasp. By accident the noose fell squarely about the running ape's neck, bringing him to a sudden and surprising halt. Ah! Here was a new game, a fine game, thought Tarzan, and immediately he attempted to repeat the trick, and thus by painstaking and continued practice he learned the art of roping. Now indeed was the life of two Blatt a living nightmare. In sleep, upon the march, night or day, he never knew when that quiet noose would slip about his neck and nearly choke the life out of him. Kayla punished, two Blatt swore a dire vengeance, and old Kirchak took notice and warned and threatened, but all to no avail. Tarzan defied them all, and the thin, strong noose continued to settle about two Blatt's neck whenever he least expected it. The other apes derived unlimited amusement from two Blatt's discomforture, for broken noose was a disagreeable old fellow, whom no one liked anyway. In Tarzan's clever little mind many thoughts revolved, and back of these was his divine power of reason. If he could catch his fellow apes with his long arm of many grasses, why not Sabor the lioness? It was the germ of a thought, which, however, was destined to mull around in his conscious and subconscious mind until it resulted in magnificent achievement. But that came in later years. CHAPTER VI. JUNGLE BATTLES The wanderings of the tribe brought them often near the closed and silent cabin by the little landlocked harbour. To Tarzan this was always a source of never-ending mystery and pleasure. He would peek into the curtain windows, or, climbing upon the roof, peer down the black depths of the chimney in vain endeavor to solve the unknown wonders that lay within those strong walls. His childlike imagination pictured wonderful creatures within, the very impossibility of forcing entrance, added a thousandfold to his desire to do so. He would clamber about the roof and windows for hours, attempting to discover means of ingress. But to the door he paid little attention, for this was apparently as solid as the walls. It was in the next visit to the vicinity, following the adventure with old Sabor, that as he approached the cabin, Tarzan noted that from a distance the door appeared to be an independent part of the wall in which it was set, and for the first time it occurred to him that this might prove the means of entrance which had so long eluded him. He was alone, as was often the case when he visited the cabin, for the apes had no love for it. The story of the thunderstick, having lost nothing in the telling during these ten years, had quite surrounded the white man's deserted abode with an atmosphere of weirdness and terror for the Simians. The story of his own connection with the cabin had never been told him. The language of the apes had so few words that they could talk but little of what they had seen in the cabin, having no words to accurately describe either the strange people or their belongings, and so, long before Tarzan was old enough to understand, the subject had been forgotten by the tribe. Only in a dim, vague way had Kayla explained to him that his father had been a strange white ape, but he did not know that Kayla was not his own mother. On this day then he went directly to the door and spent hours examining it and fussing with the hinges, the knob, and the latch. Finally he stumbled upon the right combination and the door swung creakingly open before his astonished eyes. For some minutes he did not dare venture within, but finally, as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the interior, he slowly and cautiously entered. In the middle of the floor lay a skeleton, every vestige of flesh gone from the bones to which still clung the mildewed and mouldering remnants of what had once been clothing. Upon the bed lay a similar gruesome thing, but smaller, while in a tiny cradle nearby was a third, a we might of a skeleton. To none of these evidences of a fearful tragedy of a long dead day did little Tarzan give but passing heed. His wild jungle life had inured him to the sight of dead and dying animals, and had he known that he was looking upon the remains of his own father and mother he would have been no more greatly moved. The furnishings and other contents of the room it was that which riveted his attention. He examined many things minutely, strange tools and weapons, books, paper, clothing, what little had withstood the ravages of time and the human atmosphere of the jungle coast. He opened chest and cupboards such as did not baffle his small experience, and in these he found the contents much better preserved. Among other things he found a sharp hunting knife, on the keen blade of which he immediately proceeded to cut his finger. Undaunted he continued his experiments, finding that he could hack and hew splinters of wood from the table and chairs with this new toy. For a long time this amused him, but finally tiring he continued his explorations. In a cupboard filled with books he came across one with brightly colored pictures. It was a child's illustrated alphabet. A is for Archer who shoots with a bow, B is for boy, his first name is Joe. The pictures interested him greatly. There were many apes with faces similar to his own, and further over in the book he found, under M, some little monkeys such as he saw daily flitting through the trees of his primeval forest. But nowhere was pictured any of his own people, and all the book was none that resembled Kurchak, or Tublat, or Kailah. At first he tried to pick the little figures from the leaves, but he soon saw that they were not real, though he knew not what they might be, nor had he any words to describe them. The boats and trains and cows and horses were quite meaningless to him, but not quite so baffling as the odd little figures which appeared beneath and between the colored pictures. Some strange kind of bug he thought they might be. For many of them had legs, though nowhere could he find one with eyes and a mouth. It was his first introduction to the letters of the alphabet, and he was over ten years old. Of course he had never before seen print, or ever had spoken with any living thing which had the remotest idea that such a thing as a written language existed, nor ever had he seen any one reading. So what wonder that the little boy was quite at a loss to guess the meaning of these strange figures? Near the middle of the book he found his old enemy, Sabor the lioness, and further on coiled Hista, the snake. Oh, it was most engrossing. Never before in all his ten years had he enjoyed anything so much. So absorbed was he that he did not note the approaching dusk until it was quite upon him and the figures were blurred. He put the book back in the cupboard and closed the door, for he did not wish anyone else to find and destroy his treasure, and as he went out into the gathering darkness he closed the great door of the cabin behind him, as it had been before he discovered the secret of its lock, but before he left he had noticed the hunting knife lying where he had thrown it upon the floor, and this he picked up and took with him to show to his fellows. He had taken scarce a dozen steps toward the jungle when a great form rose up before him from the shadows of below bush. At first he thought it was one of his own people, but in another instant he realized it was Bulgani, the huge gorilla. So close was he that there was no chance for flight, and little Tarzan knew that he must stand and fight for his life, for these great beasts were the deadly enemies of his tribe, and neither one nor the other ever asked or gave quarter. Had Tarzan been a full-grown bull-ape of the species of his tribe he would have been more than a match for the gorilla, but being only a little English boy, though enormously muscular for such, he stood no chance against his cruel antagonist. In his veins, though, flowed the blood of the best of a race of mighty fighters, and back of this was the training of his short lifetime among the fierce brutes of the jungle. He knew no fear, as we know it. His little heart beat the faster, but from the excitement and exhilaration of adventure. Had the opportunity presented itself he would have escaped, but solely because his judgment told him he was no match for the great thing which confronted him. And since reason showed him that successful flight was impossible he met the gorilla squarely and bravely without a tremor of a single muscle or any sign of panic. In fact he met the brute midway in its charge, striking its huge body with his closed fists, and as futile as if he had been fly attacking an elephant. But in one hand he still clutched the knife he had found in the cabin of his father, and as the brute, striking and biting, closed upon him the boy accidentally turned the point toward the hairy breast. As the knife sank deep into its body the gorilla shrieked in pain and rage. But the boy had learned in that brief second a use for his sharp and shining toy, so that as the tearing, striking beast dragged him to earth he plunged the blade repeatedly and to the hilt into its breast. The gorilla, fighting after the manner of its kind, struck terrific blows with its open hand, and tore the flesh at the boy's throat and chest with its mighty tusks. For a moment they rolled upon the ground in the fierce frenzy of combat. More and more weakly the torn and bleeding arm struck home with a long sharp blade. Then the little figure stiffened with a spasmodic jerk. And Tarzan, the young Lord Grey Stoke, rolled unconscious upon the dead and decaying vegetation which carpeted his jungle home. A mile back in the forest the tribe had heard the fierce challenge of the gorilla, and as was his custom when any danger threatened Kerchak called his people together, partly for mutual protection against a common enemy, since this gorilla might be but one of a party of several, and also to see that all members of the tribe were accounted for. It was soon discovered that Tarzan was missing, and Tublat was strongly opposed to sending assistance. Kerchak himself had no liking for the strange little wave, so he listened to Tublat, and finally, with a shrug of his shoulders, turned back to the pile of leaves on which he had made his bed. But Kayla was of a different mind. In fact she had not waited but to learn that Tarzan was absent, ere she was fairly flying through the matted branches toward the point from which the cries of the gorilla were still plainly audible. Darkness had now fallen, and an early moon was sending its faint light to cast strange grotesque shadows among the dense foliage of the forest. Here and there the brilliant rays penetrated to earth, but for the most part they only served to accentuate the Stygian blackness of the jungle's depths. Like some huge phantom, Kayla swung noiselessly from tree to tree, now running nimbly along a great branch, now swinging through space at the end of another, only to grasp that of a farther tree in her rapid progress toward the scene of the tragedy her knowledge of jungle life told her was being enacted a short distance before her. The cries of the gorilla proclaimed that it was in mortal combat with some other denison of the fiercest wood. Suddenly those cries ceased, and the silence of death reigned throughout the jungle. Kayla could not understand, for the voice of Bolgani had at last been raised in the agony of suffering and death, but no sound had come to her by which she possibly could determine the nature of his antagonist. That her little Tarzan could destroy a great bull gorilla she knew to be improbable. And so, as she neared the spot from which the sounds of the struggle had come, she moved more warily and at last slowly and with extreme caution she traversed the lowest branches, peering eagerly into the moon's splash blackness for a sign of the combatants. Presently she came upon them, lying in a little open space full under the brilliant light of the moon, little Tarzan's torn and bloody form, and beside it a great bull gorilla, stone dead. With a low cry Kayla rushed to Tarzan's side, and gathering the poor blood-covered body to her breast, listened for a sign of life. Faintly she heard it, the weak beating of the little heart. Tenderly she bore him back through the inky jungle to where the tribe lay, and for many days and nights she sat guard beside him, bringing him food and water, and brushing the flies and other insects from his cruel wounds. Of medicine or surgery the poor thing knew nothing. She could but lick the wounds, and thus she kept them cleansed. That healing nature might the more quickly do her work. At first Tarzan would eat nothing, but rolled and tossed in a wild delirium of fever. All he craved was water, and this she brought him in the only way she could, bearing it in her own mouth. No human mother could have shown more unselfish and sacrificing devotion than did this poor wild brute for the little orphaned waif whom fate had thrown into her keeping. At last the fever abated, and the boy commenced to mend. No word of complaint passed his tight-set lips, though the pain of his wounds was excruciating. A portion of his chest was laid bare to the ribs, three of which had been broken by the mighty blows of the gorilla. One arm was nearly severed by the giant fangs, and a great piece had been torn from his neck, exposing his jugular vein, which the cruel jaws had missed but by a miracle. With the stoicism of the brute who had raised him he endured his suffering quietly, preferring to crawl away from the others and lie huddled in some clump of tall grasses, rather than to show his misery before their eyes. Kayla alone he was glad to have with him, but now that he was better she was gone longer at a time in search of food, for the devoted animal had scarcely eaten enough to support her own life while Tarzan had been so low, and was in consequence reduced to a mere shadow of her former self.