 Chapter 7 of The Man-Eater by Edgar Rice-Perot This Liber Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 7 When daylight broke upon the village from which Virginia had escaped, it found Taylor and Kelly, shaken but sobered, preparing to set out in search of Virginia. In the jungle outside the palace aid they had buried the torn remains of what had once been William Gooch, and then they gathered their men together and set forth upon the trail of the girl. Looking out in a great circle, two or three together, they beat the jungle in all directions. Chance led the two whites with a handful of men toward the west, and a shred of torn khaki clinging to a thorn brush put one of the natives upon her trail. After that it was easy and the party made rapid progress in the wake of the fleeting girl. Into the west, another camp was a stir. Breakfast was served and disposed of, and Dick Gordon, humming, it's nice to get up in the morning, shoulder the light sporting rifle, and with his gun bearer at his heels with his express, set out along the coastward trail ahead of his safari. The day was beautiful, Gordon was happy. Broadway held more pitfalls than the jungle. His was but a happy, carefree jaunt of the coast. He was already commencing to feel sorry that his quest was over and his outing passed its zenith, back to the home drum of civilization. He shrugged disgustedly. Not an untoward occurrence upon the entire trip. The monotony of New York had followed him into the wilds of Africa. He had been born evidently into the commonplace. Adventure shunned him. And then, directly ahead and so close that it sounded shrill upon his ears, rose a scream of a terrified woman. Gordon leapt forward at a rapid run, in a dozen paces he broke from the jungle in a small clearing to a site which surprised him no less than it would, the presence of a Numidian lion loose upon Fifth Avenue. He saw first a disheveled white girl clothed in torn khaki. Her hair loosened and fallen about her shoulders. In her hand was a broken branch, and starling about her was a huge hyena, closing in, ready to charge. Before either the girl or the beast realized that a new factor had been precipitated into their encounter, Gordon had thrown his rifle to his shoulder and fired just as the hyena charged. With a yelp of agony, the hideous creature tumbled over and over almost to the girl's feet. And as it came to rest, two more bullets pinged into its carcass, finishing it forever. Gordon had run forward, stopping only momentarily to fire, and an instant after his last shot he stood before the girl, looking down at her with astonishment and incredulity, written large upon his countenance. She looked up at him in equal astonishment. He saw her real, and dropping his rifle steadied her with his arm. In the name of all that is holy, he said, who are you, and what are you doing here alone in the jungle? You are Mr. Gordon. He nodded, yes, my name is Gordon, but how in the world did you know that, and who are you? I am Virginia Scott, she replied. She was still trembling and unstrung. It was with difficulty that she composed herself sufficiently to answer him coherently. Gordon's eyes went wide at the disclosure of her identity. Ms. Scott, he exclaimed, what brought you here? Didn't your mother get my letter telling her that I would bring her the papers from the old mission? Yes, she exclaimed, but another saw your letter first, Scott Taylor, my mother's cousin, and he said after you two, oh, it's terrible, Mr. Gordon, he has followed you to kill you. He was the other heir, Virginia nodded, and you have taken these frightful chances to warn me, he asked. There was no other way, she replied. He questioned her further, and bit by bit rung from her the whole terrible story of the ordeals through which she had passed. And she has done all this for the sake of a stranger, he thought. What a girl! He had been watching her closely as she talked, and he found it difficult to take his eyes from her face. It was a very beautiful face. Even the grime and the dirt and the scratches could not conceal that fact. You have done a very wonderful thing, Miss Scott, he said, a very brave and wonderful and foolish thing. I thank God that I found you in time. I should have to think what your feet would have been had chance not led us together at the right moment. As they talked, another party came to the edge of the clearing upon its eastern verge. Came and halted at the site disclosed before their eyes. It was Taylor, Kelly, and their blacks. They had heard the shot and hurried forward, but cautiously, as they were sure Virginia was not armed. When Taylor saw the girl and Scott together, he saw the end of all his hopes. Unless. His eyes narrowed as the suggestion forced itself upon him. Here were these two who stood alone between him and fortune. Two shots would put them from his path forever. Should either ever reach civilization again, Scott Taylor would become an outcast. The story of his villainy would make him a marked man in the haunt he best loved. Never again could he return to Broadway. Gordon's back was toward him. The girl's eyes were hidden from him by the man's broad shoulders. Taylor stepped from behind the tree that had concealed him. He took careful aim in his first victim, the man. And at that moment Gordon shifted his position, and Virginia's horrified eyes took in the menace at his back. It was too late to warn him. There was but a single chance to save him. There was no sign in her expression that she had discovered Taylor. He was readjusting his aim to the changed position of his target, and he was taking his time about it too, for he could not afford to bungle or to miss. At Gordon's belt swung his revolver. Virginia was so close she could touch him by croaking an elbow. She did not have to take a step closer, and it was the work of but a second to whip the revolver from its holster, swing it upon Scott Taylor, and pull the trigger. At the report, Gordon wheeled in surprise toward the direction the girl had fired. He saw a white man drop a rifle and stagger out of sight behind a tree, and then the girl grasped him by the arm and drew him behind the tree beneath the branches of which they had met. It was Taylor, she whispered. He had leveled his rifle at you. You would have shot you in the back, the cur. I thought, said Dick Gordon in a wondering voice, that I owed you about all that a man could owe to a fellow being, but now you have still further added to my debt. You owe me nothing. The obligation is still all upon the side of my mother and myself, replied Virginia. But if you want to add a thousand-fold to that obligation, I can tell you how you can do it. How, asked Gordon eagerly, by getting me and yourself out of this hideous country and back to America as quickly as can be. Good, cried Gordon, will start in just a minute, but first I'm going after that human Mephidus and put him where he won't shoot any more at a man's back or bother women, and calling to his men who are now coming up, he started across the clearing in pursuit of Taylor. That worthy, however, eluded him. Wounded in the forearm, he had scurried into the jungle, half supported, half dragged by Kelly, who, while feeling no loyalty toward his leader, shrank with terror from the thought of being left alone to the mercies of the blacks in the center of Africa. The reward he had about given up with the sight of Gordon and the girl together, for which Gooch dead and Taylor wounded, it seemed practically hopeless to expect to prevent Gordon and Virginia returning to America. Kelly knew that he couldn't do it alone, nor would he try. He could knife a man in the back with ease, but a look at Gordon had assured him that it would not be profitable employment to attempt to get near enough to that athletic, incompetent looking young man to reach him with a knife. No, Kelly was through. Insofar as further attempts at crime and his present surroundings were concerned, he went back to the good old US, he urged Taylor, and I'll agree to help you. But Africa, never again, and he raised his right hand solemnly above his head. Taylor smiled ironically, Yes, get him back to the good old US, he mimicked. They'll go back with themselves fast enough, you boob, without any help from us, and they'll make little old US so damn hot that it won't hold us. If that cat hadn't pinked me, I'd stop him before ever they reached the coast. But, and he winced with pain, I'm all in for a while. But by God, I'll follow them to the states and get them there. There can't anyone put anything over on me like this. They can't rob me of what's mine by right, even if it isn't mine by law, and I'll show them. I'll show them. Virginia was giving the native village of her adventures a wide berth. But Gordon assured her that they must pass it on the trail to the coast, and that he was rather anxious to do so and interview the chief. The tone of voice in which he stated his determination filled Virginia with alarm, and she made him promise that he would not do arouse the wrath of the natives, but pass the village they did. And much to their surprise, the first people they saw emerging from the gates to meet them were several white men. They proved to be a party of wild animal collectors coming down from an excursion toward the north. In sturdy cages they bore several young lions, a few leopards, hyenas, and other specimens of the fauna of the district through which they passed. Now they were on their way to the coast, but the stories they had heard of the wonderful black-maned lion that had been there the night before had determined them to stop long enough to attempt to capture the splendid beast. Gordon and Virginia tired with them but a few minutes, then continued their way to the coast, which they reached without incident after what was, to Gordon at least, the pleasantest journey of his life. Had it not been for the anxiety which he knew the girl's mother must be suffering on account of her mad escapade, he would have found means to prolong the journey many days. At the coast they found that they would have to wait a week for a steamer, and having thought that Virginia was safe under his care, Gordon felt that liberty to rejoice that they had made reasonably good connections. It might have been worse. Chance made it brought them to the coast only a day ahead of the steamer. Gordon, unspoiled by wealth and attentions and scheming mamas, lacked sufficient egotism to think that Virginia Scott might be attracted to him as he was to her. There had been other girls who he had known desired him, but he had not cared for. Very soon after he had met Virginia, he had realized that here at last, in the wilds of Africa, he had found the one girl, the only girl, and straight away he had set her upon a pedestal and worshiped silently from afar, to think that this deity might stoop to love a mortal did not occur to him, and, strange to say, he was content to love her without declaring his love. But that was while he had been alone and all to himself. How it would be when she was returned to the haunts of other eligible men did not occur to him. Very adroitly, at least he thought it was adroitly accomplished, he discovered from her own lips that she was not engaged, and thereafter his bliss knew no bounds. It had been difficult for Virginia to repress a smile during the ponderous strategy with which he maneuvered the information from her, and also it had been his first intimation that Richard Gordon might care for her. It troubled her, too, not a little, for Virginia Scott was not a young lady to throw her heart lightly into the keeping of the first good-looking young man who coveted it, that she liked Gordon immensely she would have readily admitted. But she had given no thought to a deeper interest nor but for the suggestion the young man blunderingly put into her head might such a thought have occurred to her. At least, not so soon. But the idea implanted became food for considerable speculation with the result that she now often discovered herself appraising Gordon in the most critical manner. As though, she mused, he were a six-cylinder limousine, and I wanted to be sure that I liked the upholstery, which I do, but there's something wrong with his sparking device, and Virginia laughed softly to herself. What's the joke, asked Gordon, sitting beside her on a hotel veranda? Oh, nothing, just thinking, replied Virginia evasively. But she turned her face away to hide a guilty flush, and as she did so, her eyes alighted upon the head of a long column marching into the town. Oh, look, she exclaimed, glad of any pretext that changed the line of thought. Who do you suppose it can be? Gordon looked in the direction she indicated, rose and walked to the end of the veranda, and then called back over her shoulder. There the collectors, I wonder if they got their man-eater. Virginia was at his side now, and at her suggestion, the two walked down the street to meet the incoming caravan. The collectors were delighted to see them again, and in response to Gordon's inquiry, pointed to a stout cage in the middle of the long line. There he is, said one of them, and he's a devil. Gordon and the girl dropped back to have a look at the latest capture, finding a huge black-meaned line crouching in the narrow confines of his prison. His yellow eyes glared balefully out at them, his tail moved restlessly in angry jerks, and his bristling muzzle was wrinkled into a perpetual snarl that bared long, ugly-looking fangs. He does look like a devil, doesn't he, remarked Gordon? A crowd was gathering about the cage now, and as one approached more closely than his majesty thought proper, he leapt to his feet and dashed madly against the bars, roaring madly and clawing viciously in attempt to reach the presumptuous mortal who shrank back in terror. Much to the amusement of the unlock, much to the amusement of the onlookers. What a beauty, exclaimed Virginia. Gordon was looking very closely at the lion, and instead of replying, moved forward nearer the cage. The lion growled savagely, hurling himself against the bars, and then Gordon stopped quite close to him. The beast stopped suddenly, and eyed the man in silence. A look, almost of human recognition, changed the expression on his face. He growled but no longer angrily, a growl of friendly greeting Gordon could have sworn. I thought as much, said the man, turning toward Virginia and one of the collectors at his back. See that jagged scar on the inside of his forearm there, he asked? The collector nodded. This is the fell that I liberated from the pit, continued Gordon, and he remembers me. Well, I shouldn't bank too strongly on his gratitude if I were you warned the collector. No, I don't intend to, left Gordon. Two days later, Virginia Scott and Richard Gordon took passage upon a northbound steamer, and among the other passengers was a passenger and cargo with a collector and their wild beasts. For several days after receiving his wound, Taylor was down with fever. But the moment he could travel, he and Kelly set off on the return to the coast. The former bent now upon carrying his felonious designs to a successful conclusion, even if he had to rob and murder Gordon in the heart of New York. The man was desperate, his expedition that cost him all the money he could beg, borrow or steal. He owed Kelly not alone the promised reward, but he had to advance toward the financing of the work. He must have money, he must have a lot of it, and he was determined to get it. Never in his life had Scott Taylor been so dangerous an enemy, and in this state of mind, he and Kelly caught the steamer following that upon which Virginia and Gordon had sailed. Gordon wowed away the hours of the voyage, when he could not be in Virginia's company before the cage of the Great Lion. No one else could approach the beast with the possible exception of Virginia Scott when the animals seemed to tolerate so long toward all others, the tawny man-eater evinced the most frightful rage. But when Gordon approached, he became docile as a kitten, permitting the American to reach inside the bars and scratch his massive wrinkled face. At Liverpool, Gordon bade farewell to his savage jungle friend, for he and Virginia were to take the fast liner from New York, the collectors following upon a slower vessel. Goodbye, old man, said Gordon parting, stroking the mighty muzzle. The chances are we'll never see each other again, and I'll never forget you, especially as I most vividly recall you as you stood over me there in the jungle debating the question of your savage jungle ethics, while gratitude and appetite bowed within your breast, and see that you don't forget me, though you will, of course, within a month. The lion rumbled in his throat and rubbed his head luxuriously against the bars as close to the man as he can get, and thus Gordon left him. Within a few days, the huge beast was sold to a traveling American circus where he was presently exhibited to wandering crowds. Ben, king of beasts, the manninged in lion from the wilds of Central Africa. He roared and ramped and struggled for liberty for days, but at last he seemed to realize the futility of his efforts, and subsided into a sullen quiet which rendered his keepers even more apprehensive than had his open rebellion. He's an ugly one, commented the big Irishman whose special charge Ben was, and deep too. He'll get some fun yet. Yeah, you can never trust these forest bread critters. They're all like, only Ben, he's worse. End of Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of The Man-Eater by Edgar Rice Burroughs This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe Dinoia, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 8 Mrs. Scott had met Virginia and Gordon at the dock, where, in the excitement and rejoicing of the reunion of the mother and daughter, the manila envelope and its contents were forgotten until after Gordon had seen the two safely aboard the train for home. Before parting with him, both had urged him to visit them at an early date, and gladly indeed had Gordon promised to do so. It was not until their train had pulled out of the station that Virginia recalled the paper from which Gordon had made the long journey and risked his life. He must have forgotten it too, she said, but he'll probably discover it and mail it to you today. Mr. Richard Gordon did not, however, discover the manila envelope for many days thereafter. It had crossed the Atlantic in one of his bags in the special care of the loyal Murphy, and the young gentleman had removed it with other papers, as was his custom, to a certain drawer in Gordon's desk where unfinished business was proposed, awaiting the leisurely pleasure of Mr. Gordon. But that young gentleman found upon his arrival in New York a matter of far greater interest than unanswered letters and unpaid bills. It was an urgent demand from an old-school friend that he accompanied the former emotoring into Canada on a fishing expedition. He had met this friend in the grill at one of the clubs the day he landed in New York, and fifteen minutes later had promised to leave with him early on the following morning. Mrs. Scott in Virginia awaited a reasonable time, and then, hearing nothing from Gordon, the girl wrote him, and as fate would have it her letter reached New York the very day that witnessed the return of Taylor and Kelly, and the latter, sent to ascertain the whereabouts of Gordon, proceeded the postman into the apartment building where Gordon's bachelor home was located but a few paces. Turning to see who was behind him, Kelly had an inspiration born of former practice and long years of taking anything that he can get his hands on, provided they belonged to another. If there's anything for my friend Gordon, he said to the mail carrier, I'll save you a trip up as I'm going up to see him now. Unsuspicious, the carrier shuffled off a half-dozen pieces of mail matter and handed them to Kelly, who resumed his way to the elevator, stuffed the letters in his pocket, and a moment later rang the bell at Gordon's door. Murphy answered the summons, and, thanks to a slight disguise, failed to recognize the card sharp on the trip out. No, sir, Mr. Gordon is not in, he replied to Kelly's inquiry. He has gone out of town for a couple weeks. What name, sir? Oh, he doesn't know me, replied Kelly. I'll call again after he comes home. It's just a little business matter, and he turned and departed. Back in the flat on West 145th Street, Kelly handed the mail to Taylor. One by one, the envelopes were steamed open into the contents red. Only the letter from Virginia was of interest or value to the conspirators. He still got the paper announced, Taylor, reading Virginia's note, and he'll go down there with it. That's the place to get him and the paper at the same time. I know the lay of the land there. We'll duck for Scottsville and lay for Mr. Bordinsky Gordon. Seal up those letters, Kelly, and get him into Gordon's mailbox. Two weeks later, Dick Gordon sat once more before his desk in his apartment and attacked a cumulative correspondent in the unfinished business drawer at his right hand. Well, I'll be. What do you know about that, he exclaimed the envelopes before him, drawing a great sigh of relief at his search finally uncovering the long, vanilla envelope. Hey, Murphy, he called. Ring up and find out when the first train through Scottsville, Virginia leaves. The following day, he alighted at the station of the sleepy little town, engaged in Negro to drive him to the oaks and was presently making his dusty way in the direction of the stately Scott homestead. Two minutes after he had driven off, Kelly rushed breathlessly into the bar room of the tavern where Taylor was engaged in a maroon traveling man. Leaning close to Taylor's ear, Kelly whispered, he's come. Where is he, asked Taylor. Driven off towards the oaks, replied Kelly. All right, he'll keep till night and Taylor resumed the pleasurable task of separating the traveling man from his expense money. At the oaks, Gordon discovered that Mrs. Scott and Virginia were visiting friends of the nearby town. They'll be back tomorrow, Mr. Gordon said the old colored butler, and I know they'd be mighty pralashes to see y'all. They've been expecting you for a right amount of time. You'll come right along with me and I'll show you your room. You most cutely gotta stay till Ms. Roof and Ms. Virginia returns. That's mighty good of you, said Gordon, and I'll do it. Let me see. You are Washington, are you not? I heard Mrs. Virginia speak of you. Yes, I'm Washington, Scotts, replied the old fellow, beaming with pride and pleasure to learn that he had been the subject of quality's conversation. Yes, I'm also Jefferson Scott's great-granddaddy and my great-granddaddy about 400 years ago and we've been into family ever since. I've been the general's body servant ever since I've been a little shaver. Your people sure have been with the Scotts for some time. Washington commented Gordon with a smile as he followed the old man up the grand old staircase to the second floor. Gordon's room lay at the far end of the long hall, overlooking the roof of the veranda and a pleasant wooded lawn at the side of the house. The young man passed the balance of the day wandering about the grounds, chatting with the Negroes, hoping for the coming of the morrow that would bring Virginia Scott. In the evening, he sat upon a settee beneath a tree on the front lawn, smoking and listening to the banjos and the singing of the Negroes in their quarters down the road. Buttering the fence grew thick shrubbery, which hid the road as it also hid from his eyes the two silent figures that crept stealthily in its shadow. As they watched him, Gordon arose, tossed his cigar aside and turned toward the house. From across the bottom lands of the train, suddenly a shrill whistle from an engine screaming through the quiet night almost immediately afterward followed by a dull, booming sound that seemed to shake the earth. Gordon paused and listened. If that wasn't a wreck he'd be used, it at least sounded mightily like it, but it probably wasn't at that. The noises always seemed exaggerated at night. For a moment, Gordon stood listening and then he turned toward the house again, entered it and ascended to his room. The two figures in the shrubbery circled the grounds until they reached a point where they could see his windows. There they waited until a light appeared, proclaiming that Gordon had gone to his room. We'll loaf around until he's asleep, whispered one of the prowlers. Fifteen minutes later, the light in Gordon's chamber was extinguished. He's turned in, whispered the other prowler. We'll stick for a quarter of an hour longer as to the first and give him a chance to get to sleep. For a while, both were silent. The quiet of the soft summer night was broken only by the cicadas, the subduing croaking of the frogs in the bottoms and strains of southern melody from the nickel quarters. Don't them coons never go to bed? growled Kelly quarrellessly. Taylor made no response. He was fidgeting uneasily. He wished the job well over. Time and again he fingered the automatic in the side pocket of his coat. Once he drew the weapon out and for the dozens of time that day removed the cartridge clip and counted the shells. Nine of them and one in the chamber, he commented. That's ten. Oh! The clip had slipped from his nervous fingers hastily he snatched it up and slipped it back into the grip of the weapon. Come on, he whispered to Kelly. We'll sneak it up to his door and listen. We'll sneak it up to his door and listen there. There's weight in getting my goat. Mine too, said Kelly, and the two slunk from tree to tree until they were well in the shadows in the house. Then they circled to the verandah steps, mounted and paused beside the French doors opening into the library. Taylor was in advance. He was about to enter when a telephone bell broke the silence of brazen clanging, bursting upon their startled ears with all the terrific volume of a pounding fire gong. The two men drew back hurriedly, slinking into the deeper shadows at the end of the porch and crouching behind the swinging porch seat. Presently, a light shone in the library, wavering at first and then brighter and steadier as the old butler entered with the lamp and set it upon the table. The telephone bell was still ringing intermittently. Taylor and Kelly strained their ears to catch his words, but could not. He was talking to Virginia Scott. We decided to come tonight instead of tomorrow, as she said. There was a wreck about half a mile from the station which delayed us. We had to walk in from where the accident occurred, send Jackson to town with the machine for us at once. Yes, Miss Virginia, I'll send him punctilously, replied the old man. A moment later he was routing Jackson out of bed and posting him off to the village. Taylor and Kelly remained in hiding for the old butler waited upon the verandah until he had seen the car turn into the pike and disappear in the direction of Scottsville. Then he turned slowly and entered the house, plotting upward to his room that he might dress to properly receive his returning mistress. He took the lamp with him, leaving the library lighted only by the moon which now streamed the silver shaft through the doors and windows. When they were sure that he had gone, Taylor and Kelly crept from their hiding places and entered the library, leaving the French doors wide open. At the foot of the stairs they paused, listening. Someone was moving about on the floor above. It was the butler, figuring that he was returning to the first floor, the conspirators dodged into the music room, the doorway of which was closed to the bottom of the stairs. Ben, king of beasts, objected stringlessly to being loaded upon a flat car. Although the process consisted merely of rolling his wheeled cage up an incline onto the car, he objected nevertheless, as he objected to every change of location which necessitated the closer proximity of hated man and the disturbing of his royal reveries. But loaded he was and then came the hateful, jolting and pounding of the rumbling train, the screech of whistles, the grinding of brakes, and all the other noises of a switching circus train in the railroad yard. It seemed an eternity before the long train pulled out of the village and the nerve-wracking discords gave place to the rhythmic rumbling of the open right of way which finally lulled the irritable beast to slumber. A slumber that was rudely awakened by a piercing shriek of the engine's whistle followed almost immediately by a terrific crash in the pounding of the derailed flat over the ties for a hundred yards until it lasted toppled into a ditch, hurling its cargo of terrified beasts through a barbed wire fence into the field beyond. Ben's cage rolled over and over, one end of the top snapping a telegraph pole short of a few feet above the ground. After it had come to rest beyond a tangle wire of the demolished fence, the lion lay half dazed for several minutes. Then he rose gingerly as though expecting to discover that all his bones had been broken. He shook his giant head and rumbled out a low roar. His cage was lying on its side. What was that? Ben cocked his head upon one side and gazed incredulously at a gaping rent in front of him. The roof had been torn away by impact with the telegraph pole. There was a great hole, barless through which two lions might have walked abreast. Ben approached the opening and looked out. Before him stretched an open middle end. He raised his nose and sniffed. A little tremor of joy ran through his great frame. For an instant he stood there, listening. He heard the shouts of approaching men mingled with the screams and roars of terrified beasts about him. Lightly he sprang through the opening in the broken cage. He was free. Men were running toward him from the rear of the train. They had not seen him yet. For an instant he hesitated as though minded to remain and wreak vengeance on the human race. Then a glimpse in the distant woods and a lure of the open was too much for him. In long, easy bounds he loped away across the meadowland. A shallow swale running up land from the railroad appealed to his primeval instinct for cover. It hid him effectually from the sight of the men now crowding around the derailed flat. Dropping into a swinging stride he moved straight up wind. All about him was the scent spore of cattle. He licked his chops and wind. A barbed wire fence presently barred his way. This was something new. He sniffed inquirily at it. Then he curled his lips disdainfully at the puny strands that the foolish men-creatures had thought to imprison him with, for he believed that this was a new sort of cage constructed especially to hold him. He raised a mighty forepaw and smote it. The sharp barbs pierced the flesh eliciting an angry growl. He raised his eyes to measure the height of the barrier. It was low, pitifully low. Still growling, bent bounded over it. The wind now brought down to his nostrils the strong scent of sheep and cows and swine, filling him with lust for the hot blood, the dripping flesh of the warm new kill. Further on a Virginia rail fence loomed before him. He took it without a pause and an instant later stood in the dust of a white turnpike. Across the road was a hedge and from beyond the hedge came the mingled odors of man and her Bavora. The lion lowered his head and walked through the hedge. He found himself upon a well-kept lawn dotted here and there with shrubs and trees. At the far side of the lawn was a large white structure gleaming in the moonlight. Majestically a little beast moved across the close cropped sword, a golden lion upon a velvet rug of green. A setee lay in his path. It was something new and all new things were to be investigated. He sniffed at it and on the instant his whole manner changed. A nervous tremor of excitement ran through his supple body. His tail twitched and trembled. His eyes glowed brighter. A low whine broke from his savage lips. Down went his nose to the grass. The spore was fresh and plain. There was a spore of his one man friend. Ben followed it across the lawn to the foot of the veranda steps. Here he paused looking dubiously up at a man-made structure. It might be another trap built for his capture. But no the man friend was there. It must be safe. The lion mounted the steps still sniffing with lowered nose. Upon the veranda a new spore lay fresher over that of the other. A spore that set his tail to lashing angrily and put a hideous light in his wicket and implacable now. The scent led through the open doors into the interior. The beast thrust his head within and surveyed the room. He saw no one, but plainly he caught the scent of those who sent he had first learned where it mingled with the blood of his slain mate. Treading softly he entered the room the thick rug beneath padded feet giving forth no sound. In the center of the library he halted. A flood of moonlight pouring through the open door fell full upon him, revealing him all as majesty of savage strength and alertness. For all he moved now he might have been a mounted specimen standing there upon the oriental rug beneath his feet, for he was listening. A slight sound had come to his sensitive ears from out of the darkness of the music room. His yellow eyes bore straight ahead through the open doorway before him. Taylor, hearing no further sounds from above, whispered to Kelly to follow him. Cautiously he moved toward the doorway leading into the library at the foot of the stairs. As he peered out his eyes suddenly went wide. His lower jaw fell. His knees trembled. For, standing motionless in the center of the library, he saw a huge lion. For an instant the man was paralyzed with terror. And then the lion, giving force to his single quick short growl, charged. Taylor dodged back into the music room too terrified to scream. Directly behind him was Kelly. In his mad panic of fear, Taylor hurled his encompass backwards to the floor. Then he scrambled beneath a grand piano just as a lion leapt into the room. The first object the beast's eyes encountered was the prostate form of Kelly. The man was scrambling to his feet when he saw the animal, but he never reached them. From beneath the piano Taylor saw the lion spring upon the doomed Kelly. For an instant the beast's attention was occupied, and Taylor took the slender advantage that was him to scurry from the room and race madly up the staircase to the second floor. He ran straight for the closed door at the far end of the hall, the door leading into Richard Gordon's room. He had scarce confidence when the lion, abandoning the grisly thing upon the music room floor, bounded from the room and up the stairway in pursuit. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of The Man-Eater by Edgar Rice Burroughs. This is the bravox recording in the public domain. Recording by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 9. Washington Scott, in the act of dressing for the return of his mistress, heard strange sounds that filtered upward from the first floor to his room upon the third. Seizing his lamp, he made his way slowly downward upon his old and shaky legs. He was in the act of turning the knob of the door at the foot of the stairway that opened into the second floor balcony when he heard footsteps rushing frantically past. Cautiously, he opened the door and peered out in time to see a man dodge into Gordon's room and close the door. So quickly had the figure disappeared that the old butler had not recognized the intruder, but he was sure that it was not Mr. Gordon. He would investigate. Stumping laboriously into the hall, he turned in the direction of Gordon's room. He was just opposite the old fashioned wardrobe built into the wall near Gordon's door. When the rush of strange footfalls ascended the stairway at the opposite end of the hall, causing him to turn his eyes in that direction. Gordon mighty shrieked the old man as his eyes fell upon the hideous visage of the wide jawed carnivore. It was too late to retreat to the stairway down which he had just come. He had heard the locked turn of Gordon's door. There was only the old fashioned cupboard in the wall beside him. Not in 50 years had Washington Scott moved with such celerity as he evinced in the next quarter second. With a wrench he tore the door open like a youthful hurtler he vaulted into the dark closet, slamming the door too after him. Within was a crash of broken flooring and then silence. The lion rushed past the old man's hiding place without even pausing to investigate. He was after bigger game than a decrepit old darky. As Taylor dashed into his room, speaking by the noise sprang from his bed. Taylor, knowing that the time for stealth was passed and that the whole house would be aroused in an instant, drew his revolver from his side pocket of his coat and fired point black at Gordon as the ladder rose in his bed. The bullet passed through Gordon's pajama coat and pinged into the wall behind him. Then Taylor with a mental nine more pulled the trigger again. There was no responding report and Gordon was upon him. Frantically Taylor pressed the weapon to his victim's body and pulled the trigger futile. In returning the clip to the automatic when it had fallen through the ground from his nervous fingers earlier in the evening he had reversed it so that the cartridges were pointed to the rear jamming the mechanism after the first shot had exploded the cartridge already in the chamber. Once in Gordon's grasp Taylor realized how hopelessly he was outclassed. The clean life of his antagonist found Taylor helpless in the other's power. Yet the man fought on desperately for he knew that a long prison term awaited him should he be captive now. Around and around the room the two men struggled. Taylor beat madly at Gordon's face but the ladder sought the other's throat striking only occasionally and then only when a blow could be well delivered and effective. In the hall beyond the lion had halted before the door to sniff and listen. From within came the sounds of combat and the scent of friend and foe. The great beast opened his wide jaws and roared out a thunderous challenge a challenge that sent Washington Scott cowering in terror to the further most recesses in the little closet and brought Gordon to a momentary pause of wonder in the battle he was waging for his life in the guest chamber of the Scott Mansion. But Richard Gordon had no time to give then to an investigation of the terrifying roar just without his room. He wondered but he fought on slowly but surely overcoming the weakening Taylor. The lion pushed against the door with his forepaw. It did not open. He clawed at the panels madly, thunderously. No frail wood can long withstand splinters were torn away. The two men within the room heard. The one was terrified and the other wondering. Gordon was pushing Taylor back against the table further and further when the ladder in a sudden momentary burst of energy struggled up and fought his conqueror back a step or two. Beneath their feet lay a rug rumpled and twisted as they passed back and forth across it. Gordon's foot caught in it as Taylor surged against him and he fell heavily backward striking his head against the edge of a chair. In the nearest credit the good fortune that had saved him at the 11th hour Gordon lay unconscious beneath him. The lion was battering the door to pieces just beyond. Behind was an open window leading onto the roof of the veranda. Taylor half started to make a break from escape from the lion when the object of his mission rushed to his mind. He had risked too much to abandon all now in success such as it was laying his grasp. Hastily he sprang to his feet and ran and began to run hastily through it. A panel crashed in beneath the lion's powerful blows and Taylor saw the gleaming yellow eyes glaring at him through the aperture. With a gasp of terror the man ran his hand inside the coat. His fingers came in contact with a long manila envelope and he knew that he had won. Stuffing the prize into his own pocket he turned and scrambled through the window to the roof of the veranda, ran to the edge and lying upon his stomach lowered himself quickly until he hung by his hands. Then he let go and dropped to his soft body in a clump of bushes beneath. Almost simultaneously the last of the door fell in beneath Ben's battling and the lion sprang into the room. For just an instant he lowered his muzzle to the face of the prostrate Gordon, sniffed, whined and then caught Taylor's spore and followed it through the window onto the roof. Gordon but momentarily stunned sat up just in time to see the hindquarters of the lion disappearing through the window. Leaping to his feet he followed and looked out. He saw the great beast approach the spot where Taylor had dropped to the ground. For a moment the lion stood there measuring the distance. It was too great a leap for so heavy a beast, except as a last resort. Turning quickly away the animal trotted to the far end of the roof. Below him there was a low shed and a moment later the carnivore was slinking through the shrubbery of the Scott grounds hot upon the trail of the fleeing Taylor. Gordon convinced the lion had followed Taylor though filled with wonder not only that a savage jungle beast should be roaming at large until Virginia, but as well as the brute should have passed him by without harming him ran from his room calling to the servants. The old butler hearing his voice answered him in trembling tone from his hiding place. Mr. Gordon he cried, where is he? Am he went? Gordon paused. The voice came apparently from the closet behind him. Where are you? he asked. I'm here in these hair clothes hamper. I'm stuck fast. If he please come and help me out of here. He's went alright replied Gordon opening the door of the closet to find that the wash tank had broken through the bottom and so tightly wedged that it required to combine efforts of both of them to liberate him. Other house servants were timorously creeping down the stairs by this time but when they found that the wild beast was prowling somewhere about most of them promptly retreated to their rooms where they fell to praying. A few remain to follow Gordon back to his room. A sudden fear had crept over the young man. Taylor could have followed him for one purpose. Had he been successful after all in his quest? Gordon found his coat lying on the floor and hasty examination revealed the fact that the precious document had been removed from it. Snatching an old fashioned muzzle loader from one of the servants, Gordon hastened down the stairs and onto the lawn. A southern roar down in the direction of the Negro's quarters guided him in the direction of the lion had taken and which was Gordon felt sure the same as that in which Taylor had fled. The moment that Taylor had extricated himself from the bushes he ran around to the front of the house and down past the Negro Shacks passing out onto the turnpike below them and following that in the direction of Scottsville. He did not know that the lion had followed him imagining instead that the beast had remained to maul and possibly devour Gordon. The thought while it induced a shudder was far from unwelcome since it compassed the elimination of Gordon and so as far as Taylor knew he only witnessed his presence in the Scott home. Behind him a silent shadow moved along his trail in long undulating strides the great cat stalked it's prey. Taylor had passed behind the cabins of the Negro's for several of the blacks were still sitting before their doorsteps strumming on their instruments or gossiping amongst themselves. But the lion had caught a glimpse of the quarry and so no longer must follow by scent. He had seen Taylor vault the fence onto the turnpike and without increasing his gate he moved straight toward him. His way led past the Darkies. They had been discussing the strange sound they had heard come from the big house. Broken and muffled from having issued from the interior of the house, Ben's single roar had come down to them half drowned by the nearer noises of the banjos. One had thought that it might have been the wail of a sick cow. Another had attributed it to Mars Jefferson and Scott's ghost. It sounded to me like one of them lions. I didn't see them in the circus last fall, ventured a tall lanky black. Wow exclaimed the woman. Don't you talk about lions around here. I can't sleep a wink tonight for thinking about them. Show honey exclaimed the first beaker. You don't need to worry about no lions while I'm around. I eat some alive I does. There ain't nothing to be feared of. Why, I seen a white man go right in the cage with ten of them. He takes a big whip and he lashes them lions just the same as they was mules. Just like this. And the Darkies seized his banjo by the neck and struck out ferociously in imaginary lions. Swinging around a chastised one directly behind him his eyes fell upon the huge head and glittering eyes of Ben just protruding from about the corner of the cabin a few paces away. For one brief horrified instant the black man stood petrified with terror. His mouth flew agape. His eyes stared from his head and then with a blood curdling shriek he dove head foremost to the door way of the cabin. The sudden cessation of his valiant lion taming had attracted the attention of the others to the direction his eyes had taken. They too saw Ben but in the instant after their fellow men had discovered him. Their screams mingled with his as did their arms and legs and bodies as the half dozen Negroes launched themselves simultaneously for the same small doorway. Scrambling, clawing, screaming, fighting the battle for the safety of the interior until they became so tightly wedged in a narrow aperture that they could make no further progress. Ben, surprised into a sudden stop at the first sight of them, now approached majestically for his way led by their threshold. He paused a moment to sniff wildly kicking legs of the tangled mass. The discord of their fear-laden voices most upgraded upon his nerves. Four with his mouth close to them he gave vent to his single mighty roar and then passed on. The blacks, paralyzed by terror, became rigid and silent as death. Nor did they move again until long after the great beast had passed out of sight. Along the road from Scottsville perd the big Scott car, bearing Mrs. Scott and Virginia from the station to the oaks. A quarter of a mile below the Negro's quarters the car came to a stop. What's the matter, Jackson? asked Virginia. I don't know, Ms. replied the chauffeur, getting down from the seat and raising one side of the bonnet. For a moment he fussed about between the engine and the control board, trying first to starter then the horn. I guess we all blown a fuse he announced presently. Have you others? I must be walked the rest of the way, inquired Mrs. Scott. Oh, Yasm, I got some right here and he raised the cushion from the driver's seat and thrust his hand into the box beneath. For a moment he fumbled about in search of an extra fuse plug. Who's that coming down the road, asked Virginia. Mrs. Scott and their chauffeur both looked up. They saw a man running now directly in the middle of the road and coming in the direction of the machine. An instant later another figure bounded into sight behind the man. Mechanically the chauffeur, while he was watching the approaching man, had slipped a new fuse plug into place. The car was ready to run again, but inside of the lion the black lost his head completely under the wild yell of dismay and bolted for the opposite side of the road, vaulting the fence and disappeared. Mrs. Scott and her daughter sat as though turned to stone as they watched the frantic efforts of the man to out-distance the grim beast, now rapidly closing up on them. Directly in the full glare of the headlights, not a dozen paces from the car, the lion overtook his breath. With a savage roar and a mighty leap he sprang full upon Taylor's back, hurling him to the ground. Virginia Scott gasped in dismay. In the man's hand was a revolver and as he fairly rolled upon his back and, placing the muzzle against the lion's breast, pulled the trigger. But again the jammed weapon failed to work, which was as well for what had but inflamed the rage of the maddened beast without incapacitating him. For an instant the lion stood over his fallen enemy. He raised his head, glaring straight into the brilliant lights of the automobile. Fascinated with a horror of it, the two women watched. They saw Taylor struggling futilely now beneath the huge paw that rested upon his breast. The man's nerve was gone. He whimpered and screamed like a terrified puppy. God was for Virginia. It's Scott. Her mother but shuddered and drew closer to her. Aggravated by the struggles and the noise of his prey, Ben lowered his head. His distended jaws were close to Taylor's face. His yellow eyes glared into the fear-mad orbs of the man. From his deep chest there rumbled a thunderous roar. Then his jaws closed like a huge steel trap, and Scott Taylor ceased to be. Mrs. Scott gave a short and voluntary scream and buried her face in her hands. Attracted by the sound, the lion raised his dripping jaws and again, eye-deglaring lights. Beyond them he could see nothing, but from beyond them had come the sound of a human cry. Virginia watched the beast intently. Should she and her mother leave the machine in an attempt to escape, or were they safer where they were? The lion could easily track them should he cared to do so after they had left the car. On the other hand, the strange and unusual vehicle might be sufficient safeguarding to keep off a nervous jungle beast. While she was pondering these questions then continued to gaze steadily toward them. Finally he lowered his head to his prey once more. Sniffed at a moment then seized the body by the shoulder and dragged it a few paces to one side of the road. Here the lion was out of the direct layer of the headlights. Again he looked toward the car. Now we can see it. He conked his head upon one side and rumbled in his throat. He did not like the looks of the strange thing. What was it? He would investigate. Abandoning Taylor's body he paced slowly forward toward the car. Mrs. Scott shrank closer to Virginia too terrified by this time to scream. The girl kept her wits, but still was at a loss as to what move to make or as to whether she could make any that would be better than remaining rigidly quiet under the lion's investigation. The beast was beside the car now. Leisurely he placed a forepaw on the running board and raised himself until his giant head topped the side of the canoe. Slowly he intruded his wrinkled muzzle until his nose brushed Virginia's skirt. Mrs. Scott can bear the strain no longer. With a low moan she fainted. Now there was no escape for Virginia. The girl steeled herself to meet the end bravely. The great cat was sniffing at her skirt and growling hideously. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of the Man-Eater by Edgar Rice Burroughs. This lip provokes recordings in the public domain. Recording by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 10 With the old musket in his hands Richard Gordon ran rapidly toward the Negro's quarters from whence he had heard the lion's roar. Here he found the terrified black still fast in the doorway making no move to extricate themselves. He shouted to them asking which way the lion had gone. Hearing a white man's voice the pile disentangled itself and presently one was sufficiently recovered from his terror to inform Gordon they did not know which way the lion had gone. For the simple reason that all having their eyes shut they had heard Gordon's voice. But from the window of an adjoining cabin a frightened, night-capped head was thrust timorously and a trembling voice issued from shaking lips vouched safety information that the owner had seen the lion leap the fence into the turnpike and disappeared in the direction of town. Without waiting to listen to the harrowing details which now broke from a half dozen pairs of lips, Gordon ran to the fence, vaulted it and started down the road at a rapid trot. He had gone but a short distance when he entered and had no great distance. The man, bent solely on overtaking Taylor and wrestling the manila envelope from him, went warily now that he might avoid the lion, for he was too experienced a big game hunter to place any reliance on the archaic weapon he carried. It would do to bring Taylor to a stand but for the lion it was scarce adequate though in the day of his prime men had hunted the king of beasts with its counterpart and some of them had returned to narrate their exploits. A turn in the road revealed the headlights of an automobile and set Gordon to wondering. A little closer he saw crumpled something lying on the side of the road. Gordon crept to the shadow of the bushes that lie in the fence. The moon was bright, the shadows dense. He moved cautiously forward. The thing by the roadside was the body of a man. It must be Taylor's, but where was the lion? Then he saw him standing with his four feet upon the running board of the machine and his head thrust inside the car. A sudden whimpering from the opposite side of the bushes where he crouched attracted Gordon's attention. It sounded like a man crying. Who is that whispered young New Yorker? Oh Lord exclaimed the voice from behind the foliage. Is that you, Mr. Gordon? Has the lion ate them all up? Eating home, cried Gordon, half recognizing the voice of the Scotch chauffeur. Miss Scott and Miss Jinnah dazed in the car and he's eating them up. With a cry that was half cursed and half moaned, Dick Gordon sprang to his feet and without further attempt at stealth bounded toward the automobile. As he ran, he shouted aloud to attract the lion's attention. The beast withdrew his head from the to-know and eyed the intruder. Gordon halted a dozen paces from him, still calling aloud in the hopes of inducing the beast to leave the machine and come toward him. With dignity, the king of beasts lowered his four paws to the ground and turned about to face the man. Are you there, Virginia? cried Gordon. Are you unhurt? I'm here, she replied. He has not touched us yet, but you, oh Dick, be careful and forget you as he did Scott. Dick, she had never used his first name before and even now in the midst of danger, in the face of death, his heart leapt in glad response to the love and solicitude in her dear voice. Can you drive? he cried. Yes, I can drive, she replied. Then climb over and drive, he commanded, drive anywhere as fast as you can, but for the love of heaven, get out of here. But you, never mind me, I'm armed and he raised the feudal old relic of revolutionary days to his shoulder. The girl, realizing that her mother's safety lay in her hands and that neither could help Gordon, clambered out over the driver's seat and started the engine. With the roar of the starter been wheeled about with a loud snarl, but in the instant the girl drew the speed lever back into low, pressed down on the accelerator, let in the clutch and the car shot forward. Still, the lion seemed in doubt. It took a few steps toward the car which he could easily reach in a single bound. He paid no attention now to Gordon and the latter, fearing that the beast might spring upon the passing car, burned his bridges behind him and did the one thing that occurred to him to divert the brute's attention. In the moments that he had watched the animal, he had become half convinced the lion was his former friend of the jungle and the steamer. He could not be sure, but the magnificent proportions and the massive head were the same. Even so, he could scarce hope that the savage beast, maddened by the taste of human blood and rendered nervous by all through which it had passed during the brief interval since it had entered the Scott home, would recall him or its former friendliness towards him. But this was all apart from the main issue, the saving of Virginia and her mother from those rending fangs. The man had held his musket leveled for a moment on the lion's shoulder and then, with an exclamation of disgust, had tossed it aside. He would pit all against the chance that the lion was bent and so, shouting loudly, he ran straight for the grim beast. Glancing behind him, the lion saw the man approaching rapidly. He paused and the car, shooting at the second and high, sped beyond his reach. Then the lion turned to face Gordon and Gordon, seeing that the occupants of the car were beyond harm, halted in his tracks. For seconds that seemed like hours to the man, the two stood facing each other. It was the lion who moved first. He advanced slowly and deliberately. The moonlight flooded him. Gordon's eyes dropped to the great forearms, searching for the jagged scar that might at least give him some faint hope. Nor did he look in vain, for there, playing in the moonlight was the serrated mark that told him the beast was bent. Almost simultaneously with his discovery, came a loud hail from the field below the road. The lion halted at the sound and both he and Gordon turned their eyes in the direction of the voice. They saw three men armed with rifles. They were the circus owner and two keepers. Stand where you are, shouted the owner. That beast is a devil. Don't move. We can get him before he charges. At the same instant, the three raised their guns and took him at the splendid statue that was rigid in the moonlight. It had been said that Richard Gordon was a creature of impulse. Nor did his next act bell his reputation. Twice Ben, king of beasts, had spared his life. Tonight he had captured and punished the scoundrel who would have killed Gordon but for the timely appearance of the lion. The man's death to the beast was one which Richard Gordon could not in honor ignore. With a cry of, don't shoot, he leapt toward the lion placing himself between the animal and the rifles. He was so close that he could touch the tawny shoulder. Ben lowered his head and sniffed Gordon's clothing. A little wine escaped the savage lips. Gordon put forth his hand and laid it on the shaggy mane and the lion pressed close against his side, rubbing his head along the man's leg. The astonished owner and keepers lowered their rifles and approached a trifle nearer, though still keeping at a safe distance. For the love of Mike exclaimed one of them, what do you know about that? Who in the name of Phineas T. Barnum are you anyway? asked the owner. I'm a friend of Ben's, Gordon laughed back, and then, briefly, he told them of his past acquaintance with the animal. Want to sell him? he asked finally. He's a very valuable animal, commenced the owner, shrewdly sensing a profitable deal. But Gordon interrupted him. All right, he said. I'll just let him go and you can come and get your valuable animal. The owner laughed. You got me, I guess, he said. What do you give me for him? Just what you paid for him plus transportation charges to your zoo. I'm going to present him to the city. It's a ghost of the owner. We could never take him alive without your help. Throw me your ropes, commanded Gordon. I'll put them on him and then we'll lead him up the road to the home of a friend of mine until you can get his cage over here. Without difficulty, he adjusted two ropes about Ben's neck, tossed an end of each to a keeper, patted the lion on the head and turned his attention to the body of Taylor lying beside the road. His first thought was of the manila envelope and this he quickly found and transferred to his own pocket. Then he saw it for signs of life but a careful examination revealed the fact that Taylor was dead. Come along, he said, and taking his place at Ben's shoulder he led the way up the road to the Scott lawn. At sight of the lion entering the ground the servants who were gathered about the veranda steps fled to the interior of the house leaving Mrs. Scott and Virginia alone. The girl saw the relief that Gordon was unharmed and that the lion had been secured and running down the steps she hastened forward to meet the young man. Taking both hands in hers as he stepped forward from the lion, she tried to thank him but her voice joked and the words would not come. He pressed her hands tightly in his and led her onto the veranda where Mrs. Scott awaited him. At last she said and handed her the manila envelope. She took it in nervous fingers and as she thanked him for all that he had risked and done for her and hers she mechanically tore the wrapper open. In the brilliant moonlight even fine print might easily have been read and as she withdrew the contents of the envelope she gave a little explanation of surprise as her eyes fell upon the sheaf of papers within. Why? What are those? She explained running quickly through them. Gordon and Virginia stepped to her side. Let us go into the library, said Mrs. Scott. I did not find the marriage certificate here. Together the three stepped into the house. Outside the keepers each having taken a turn about a tree with his rope waited the return of the owner who had gone back to the wreck for a team of horses and a wheeled cage for Ben. The lion, nervous now that Gordon had left him growled continuously. Inside, Virginia, Mrs. Scott and Gordon leaned over the long library table upon which spread the contents of the middle envelope under the strong light of the reading lamp. Carefully Gordon examined each paper. Why? These are stock certificates of considerable value, he said. There is no marriage certificate here. But our quest was not entirely in vain. These certificates probably of no great value when they were purchased years ago now represent a fortune. There are several industries alone that are worth today a hundred times what they must have sold for and issued. There in your father's name, Mrs. Scott. Yes, but the marriage certificate responded the older woman. What can become of it? I so wanted it after the unjust accusation of Scott Taylor, Gordon shook his head. It is a mystery, he said. I brought every article that remained in the strong box beneath the hearth. There was no evidence that another had been there before us. Had there, he would have removed these also and a few pieces of jewelry that were hidden there. Well said, Mrs. Scott with a sigh. Of course now it is just a sentiment I suppose, for whether Virginia is allowed the property of her grandfather or not she will be independently wealthy in possession of these stocks alone. Just then a startled cry resounded through the house. It came from the music room behind them and as they turned in that direction they beheld Washington's Scott, ashy blue from fright, rushed trembling into the library from the music room. Oh lordy, Miss Ruth, he cried dates a dead man in the music room with his face all clawed off of him. Oh lordy, oh lordy. Gordon stepped quickly to the door of the music room and there on the floor revealed by the light from the library lamp that filtered into the room lay a sight that caused him to turn and warn back Virginia who was falling close upon his heels. Ben has been here ahead of us, he explained. This must be one of Taylor's companions Kelly probably, those faces not recognizable now. Washington, he continued turning to the shaking black bring me a sheet. I'll cover this and then you might telephone to town for the coroner and an undertaker. When Washington had fulfilled his missions he clung closely about the family evidently terrified at the thought of going to other parts of the house for fear he might stumble upon others of Ben's victims. Let's go upstairs and see where he broke down the door to your room, Dick. Suggested Virginia and together, Washington bringing up the rear they all filed up the stairway. The splintered door filled the two women with amazement so complete had been his destruction and then Washington wishing to share some of the glory of the adventure called their attention to his hiding place. I then broke through the bottom he giggled nervously. Virginia taking a lamp from the old servant's hand peered into the cupboard. Why there's quite an opening beneath this she remarked and reflecting the lamps raised downward with her palm she looked into the black hole beneath the splintered flooring. A moment later she had thrust her hand in her arm deep into the aperture and when she withdrew them she held a shiny black box. What do you suppose this is doing there? she asked. It must have been a secret hiding place of your grandfather's for valuables suggested her mother. Let's have a look at the contents then cried the girl but the box would not open to her efforts. She handed it to Gordon. See if you can open it she said. Gordon examined it for a moment. It's locked. We'll have to pry it open he said. Get a screwdriver please Washington and we'll go down to the library again and investigate Miss Virginia's find. By the time Washington had located the screwdriver the others had gathered once more about their library table. The little black box the center of attraction. With the tool Gordon quickly pried the lid off disclosing a number of papers within. These he handed immediately to Mrs. Scott who ran through them quickly. Why here's your grandfather's missing will Virginia she cried handing a legal appearing document to the girl. Sure enough exclaimed the latter glancing through it and it is just as Judge Sperry said he's left everything to me with the exception of the income from certain property which is to be yours mother during the balance of your life. What is in that manila envelope as Gordon it bears a starting resemblance to the one I carried from Central Africa to Central Virginia. Virginia picked up the envelope in question and opened it. Her voice rounded into a little oh of delighted surprise. Why mother she cried here it is right here. Here it has been all the time right under our noses and we never knew it and sent thick almost to certain death looking for it in Africa and she handed the much sought for an elusive marriage certificate to her mother. A hand long dead had placed in the envelope and then hurry of Robert Gordon's departure from the mission had mistaken the manila envelope containing it for another identically like it which held stock certificates that the Reverend Sagamon Morton had wished to send to his son-in-law's father for safekeeping. My mission was not entirely fruitless however remarked Gordon smiling at the Virginia's eyes. Indeed it was not cried Mrs. Scott not catching the double meeting of his words. Had it not been for you Ben would have died in the pit the natives dug for him. Washington would not have had to clamber to the government to escape him and the secret of the false bottom in the little box might have gone undiscovered for generations. In reality it is you we owe the finding of the stock certificates, the will and the marriage certificate. And candidly I am most interested in the marriage certificate but then I am a sentimental old woman and she laughed gaily. I too am interested in the marriage certificate remarked Gordon and again he looked in the Virginia's eyes and again she looked away. A few minutes later the young people strolled out into the lawn together to have a look at Ben. The great lion winded the lighted welcome as he caught sight of Gordon. The girl he permitted to approach him too. On either side of the massive head the two stood, their fingers twining in the black mane. Across the savage head their eyes met and held. I love you, said Mr. Richard Gordon for the keepers were drowsing at their posts. Virginia cast a quick glance in their direction. Neither was looking. She leaned forward toward the man and the lips met above the fierce and loyal head of Ben, King of Beasts. And if you do not believe this story just go to the zoo the next time you are in New York and look for a great black mane lion with a scar upon one of his mighty forearms. The End End of Chapter 10 Recording by Joe DeNoya Somerset, New Jersey The End of The Man-Eater by Edgar Rice Burroughs