 Chapter 18 of Tarzan and the Golden Lion. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Josh Herring of Abingdon, Virginia. Tarzan and the Golden Lion by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 18. The Spore of Revenge. As Tarzan of the Apes, adapting his speed to that of Jadbal Jha, made his comparatively slow way toward home, he reviewed with varying emotions the experiences of the past week. While he had been unsuccessful in raiding the treasure vaults of Opar, the sack of diamonds which he carried compensated several fold for this miscarriage of his plans. His only concern now was for the safety of his Waziri, and, perhaps, a troublesome desire to seek out the whites who had drugged him, and meet out to them the punishment they deserved. In view, however, of his greater desire to return home, he decided to make no effort at apprehending them for the time being at least. Hunting together, feeding together, and sleeping together, the man and the Great Lion trod the savage jungle trails toward home. Yesterday they shared the meat of Bara, the deer. Today they feasted upon the carcass of Horta, the boar, and between them there was little chance that either would go hungry. They had come within a day's march of the bungalow when Tarzan discovered the spore of a considerable body of warriors. As some men devoured the latest stock market quotations as though their very existence depended upon an accurate knowledge of them, so Tarzan of the Apes devoured every scrap of information that the jungle held for him, for, in truth, an accurate knowledge of all that this information could impart to him had been during his lifetime a sine qua known to his existence. So now he carefully examined the spore that lay before him, several days old though it was, and partially obliterated by the passage of beasts since it had been made, but yet legible enough to the keen eyes and nostrils of the ape man. His partial indifference suddenly gave way to keen interest for, among the footprints of the great warriors he saw now and again the smaller one of a white woman, a loved footprint that he knew as well as you know your mother's face. The Waziri returned and told her that I was missing, he solo-lequized, and now she has set out with them to search for me. He turned to the lion, well, jad-bal-jah, once again we turn away from home, but no, where she is is home. The direction that the trail led rather mystified Tarzan of the Apes, as it was not along the direct route toward Opar, but in a rather more southerly direction. On the sixth day his keen ears caught the sound of approaching men, and presently there was wafted to his nostrils the spore of blacks. Sending jad-bal-jah into a thicket to hide, Tarzan took to the trees and moved rapidly in the direction of the approaching negroes. As the distance between them lessened the scent became stronger until, even before he saw them, Tarzan knew that they were Waziri, but they won a fluvium that would have filled his soul with happiness was lacking. It was a surprised usula who, at the head of the sad and dejected Waziri, came at the turning of the trail suddenly face to face with his master. Tarzan of the Apes, cried Usula. Is it indeed you? It is none other, replied the ape-man. But where is Lady Greystoke? Ah, master, how can we tell you? cried Usula. You do not mean, cried Tarzan. It cannot be. Nothing could happen to her while she was guarded by Mawaziri. The warriors hung their heads in shame and sorrow. We offer our lives for hers, said Usula simply. He threw down his spear and shield, and, stretching his arms wide apart, bared his great breast to Tarzan. Strike, Buana, he said. The ape-man turned away with bowed head. Presently he looked at Usula again. Tell me how it happened, he said, and forget your foolish speech, as I have forgotten the suggestion which prompted it. Briefly, Usula narrated the events which had led up to the death of Jain, and when he was done, Tarzan of the Apes spoke but three words, voicing a question which was typical of him. Where is Louvini? he asked. Ah, that we do not know, replied Usula. But I shall know, said Tarzan of the Apes. Go upon your way, my children. Back to your huts, and your women and your children, and when next you see Tarzan of the Apes, you will know that Louvini is dead. They begged permission to accompany him, but he would not listen to them. You were needed at home this time of year, he said. Already you have been gone too long from the herds and fields. Return then, and carry word to Korak. But tell him that it is my wish that he too remains at home. If I fail, then may he come and take up my unfinished work if he wishes to do so. As he ceased speaking, he turned back in the direction from which he had come, and whistled once a single, low, long-drawn note, and a moment later Jad Balja, the Golden Lion, bounded into view along the jungle trail. The Golden Lion! cried Usula. When he escaped from Kewazi, it was to search for his beloved Buana. Tarzan nodded. He followed many marches to a strange country until he found me, he said. And then he bid the Waziri goodbye, and bent his steps once more away from home in search of Lovini and Revenge. John Peebles, wedged in the crotch of a large tree, greeted the coming dawn with weary eyes. Near him was Dick Throck, similarly braced in another crotch, while Kraski, more intelligent and therefore possessing more inventive genius, had rigged a small platform of branches across two parallel bowels, upon which he lay in comparative comfort. Ten feet above him, Bloober swung, half exhausted and wholly terrified to a smaller branch, supported in something that approximated safety by a fork of the branch to which he clung. Gord! groaned Peebles. Howlet the bloody lions have me before I'll spend another such a night as this, and here we are, and that's that. And blimey too, said Throck. I sleep on the ground after this. Lions are no lions. If the combined intelligence of the three of you was equal to that of a walrus, remarked Kraski, we might have slipped in comparative safety and comfort last night on the ground. Eh there, Bloober, Mr. Kraski is spiking to your called Peebles and find sarcasm, accenting the mister. Oi, oi, I don't care what nobody says. Mon Bloober, he wants us to build a house for him. Every night, continued Peebles, while he stands about and tells us bloom and well how to do it, and him being a fine gentleman, don't do no work. Why should I do any work with my hands when you two big beasts haven't got anything else to work with? Ask Kraski. You would all have starved by this time if I hadn't found food for you, and you'll be lion meat in the end, or die of exhaustion if you don't listen to me. Not that it would be much loss. The others paid no attention to this last sally. As a matter of fact, they had all been quarreling so much for such a long time that they really paid little attention to one another. With the exception of Peebles and Throck, they all hated one another cordially, and only clung together because they were afraid to separate. Slowly Peebles lowered his buck to the ground. Throck followed him, and then came Kraski, and then finally, Bloober, who stood for a moment in silence, looking down at his disreputable clothing. My god, he exclaimed at last. Look at me! This suit! What it cost me twenty genies! Look at it! Ruined! Ruined! It wouldn't bring one penny under pound! The hill with your clothes, exclaimed Kraski. Here we are, lost, half starved, constantly menaced by wild animals, and maybe, for all we know, by cannibals. With four missing in the jungle, and you can stand there and talk about your twenty genie suits, you make me tired, Bloober. But come on, we might as well keep moving. Which way? asked Throck. Why, to the west, of course, replied Kraski. The coast is there, and there is nothing for us to do but try to reach it. We can't reach it by going east, roared Peebles, and here we are, and that's that. Who said we could? demanded Kraski. Well, we was travelling east all day yesterday, said Peebles. I knew all the time that there was something wrong, and I just got it figured out. Throck looked at his partner in stupid surprise. What do you mean? he growled. What makes you think we was travelling east? It's easy enough, replied Peebles, and I can prove it to you. Because this party here knows so much more than the rest of us, we've been travelling straight toward the interior ever since the niggers deserted us. He nodded towards the Russian, who stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing the other quizzically. If you think I'm taking you the wrong direction, Peebles, said Kraski, you just turn around and go the other way. But I'm going to keep on the way we've been going, which is the right way. It ain't the right way, retorted Peebles, and I'll show you. Listen here, when you travel west the sun is at your left, isn't it? That is, all during the middle of the day. Well, ever since we've been travelling without the niggers, the sun's been at our right. I thought all the time there was something wrong, but I could never figure it out until just now. It's plain as the face on your nose. We've been travelling due east right along. Blimey, cried Throck. That we have. Due east, and this blighter thinks how he knows it all. Oi, grown bloober. Weren't we got to walk it all back again yet? Fence more? Kraski laughed and turned away to resume the march in the direction he had chosen. You fellows go on your own way if you want to, he said. And while you're travelling, just ponder the fact that you're south of the equator, and that therefore the sun is always in the north, which however doesn't change its old-fashioned habit of setting in the west. Bloober was the first to grasp the truth of Kraski's statement. Come on, boys, he said. Car was right, and he turned and followed the Russian. People stood scratching his head, entirely baffled by the puzzling problem, which Throck also was pondering deeply. Presently the latter turned after Bloober and Kraski. Come on, John, he said to people's. I don't understand it, but I guess they're right. They're heading straight for where the sun set last night, and that sure must be west. His theory tottering, people's followed Throck, though he remained unconvinced. The four men, Hungry and Footsor, had dragged their weary way along the jungle trail toward the west for several hours in vain search for gain. Unschooled in junglecraft they blundered on. There might have been on every hand fierce carnivore or savage warriors, but so dull are the perceptive faculties of civilized man, the most blatant foe might have stalked them unperceived. And so it was that shortly afternoon, as they were crossing a small clearing, the zip of an arrow that barely missed Bloober's head brought them to a sudden, terrified halt, with a shrill scream of terror the Jew crumpled to the ground. Kraski threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired. There! he cried. Behind those bushes! And then another arrow from another direction pierced his forearm. Peoples and Throck, beefy and cumbersome, got into action with less celerity than the Russian. But, like him, they showed no indication of fear. Down! cried Kraski, suiting the action to the word. Light down and let them have it! Scarcely had the three men dropped among the long grass when a score of pygmy hunters came into the open, and a volley of arrows whizzed above the prone men. While from a nearby tree two steel-grey eyes looked down upon the ambush. Bloober lay upon his belly with his face buried in his arms, his useless rifle laying at his side. But Kraski, Peoples and Throck, fighting for their lives, pumped lead into the band of yelling pygmies. Kraski and Peoples each dropped a native with his rifle, and then the foe withdrew into the concealing safety of the surrounding jungle. For a moment there was a cessation of hostilities. Utter silence reigned, and then a voice broke the quiet from the vendura of a nearby forest giant. Do not fire until I tell you to, it said in English. And I will save you. Bloober raised his head. Come quick! Come quick! he cried. Viva la chute! Save me! Save me! Wouldn't I give you five pounds? From the tree from which the voice had issued, there came a single, low, long-drawn whistled note, and then silence for a time. The pygmies, momentarily surprised by the mysterious voice emanating from the foliage of a tree, ceased their activities. But presently, hearing nothing to arouse their fear, they emerged from the cover of the bushes and launched another volley of arrows toward the four men lying among the grasses in the clearing. Simultaneously, the figure of a white giant leaped from the lower branches of a patriarch of the jungle, as a great black main lion sprang from the thicket below. Oi! shrieked Bloober, and again buried his face in his arms. For an instant, the pygmies stood terrified, and then their leader cried, It is Tarzan! and turned and fled into the jungle. Yes, it is Tarzan. Tarzan of the Apes, cried Lord Greystoke. It is Tarzan and the golden lion. But he spoke in the dialect of the pygmies, and the whites understood no word of what he said. Then he turned to them. The Gomangani have gone, he said. Get up. The four men crawled to their feet. Who are you, and what are you doing here? Demanded Tarzan of the Apes. But I do not need to ask who you are. You are the men who drugged me, and left me helpless in your camp, a prey to the first passing lion or savage native. Bloober stumbled forward, rubbing his palms together and cringing and smiling. Oi! Oi! Mr. Tarzan! We did not know you! Never of what we did, what we done, had we known it with Tarzan of the Apes. Save me. Ten pounds. Twenty pounds. Anything. Name your own price. Save me. And it is yours. Tarzan ignored the Jew and turned toward the others. I am looking for one of your men, he said. A black named Lovini. He killed my wife. Where is he? We know nothing of that, said Kraski. Lovini betrayed us, and deserted us. Your wife and another white woman were in our camp at the time. None of us knows what became of them. They were behind us when we took our post to defend the camp from our men and the slaves of the Arabs. Your Waziri were there. After the enemy had withdrawn, we found that the two women had disappeared. We do not know what became of them. We are looking for them now. My Waziri told me as much, said Tarzan. But have you seen aught of Lovini's sense? No, we have not, replied Kraski. What are you doing here? Demanded Tarzan the Apes. We came with Mr. Blubber on the scientific expedition, replied the Russian. We have had a great deal of trouble. Our headmen, Ascari, and porters have mutinied and deserted. We are absolutely alone and helpless. Oy, oy, cried Blubber. Save us, save us. But keep that line away. He makes me nervous. He will not hurt you, unless I tell him to, said Tarzan. Then please, don't tell him to, cried Blubber. Where do you want to go? asked Tarzan. We are trying to get back to the coast, replied Kraski, and from there to London. Come with me, said Tarzan. Possibly I can help you. You do not deserve it, but I cannot see white men perish here in the jungle. They followed him toward the west, and that night they made camp beside a small jungle stream. It was difficult for the four Londoners to accustom themselves to the presence of the Great Lion, and Blubber was in a state of palpable terror. As they squattered around the fire after the evening meal, which Tarzan had provided, Kraski suggested that they set to and build some sort of a shelter against the wild beasts. It will not be necessary, said Tarzan. Jadbal Ja will guard you. He will sleep here beside Tarzan of the Apes, and what one of us does not hear, the other will. Blubber sighed. Hi, gods, he cried. I shall give ten pounds for one night's sleep. You may have it tonight for less than that, replied Tarzan, for nothing shall befall you while Jadbal Ja and I are here. Well, then I think I say good night. And moving a few paces away from the fire, he curled up and was soon asleep. Throck and Peoples followed suit, and shortly after, Kraski, too. As the Russian lay, half-dosing, his eyes partially open, he saw the eight men rise from the squatting position he had maintained before the fire, and turned toward a nearby tree. As he did so, something fell from beneath his loincloth, a little sack made of hides, a little sack bulging with its contents. Kraski, thoroughly awakened now, watched it as the eight men moved off a short distance, accompanied by Jadbal Ja, and lay down to sleep. The great lion curled beside the prostrate man, and presently the Russian was assured that both slept. Immediately he commenced crawling, stealthily, and slowly toward the little package lying beside the fire. With each forward move that he made, he paused, and looked at the recumbent figures of the two ferocious beasts before him, but both slept on peacefully. At last the Russian could reach out and grasp the sack, and drawing it toward him, he stuffed it quickly inside his shirt. Then he turned and curled slowly and carefully back to his place beyond the fire. There, lying with his head upon one arm as though in profound slumber, he felt carefully of the sack with the fingers of his left hand. They feel like pebbles, he muttered to himself, and doubtless that is what they are. For the barbaric ornamentation of this savage barbarian who is a peer of England, it does not seem possible that this wild beast has sat in the House of Lords. Noiselessly, Kraskyan did the knot which held the mouth of the sack closed, and a moment later he let a portion of the contents trickle forth into his open palm. My God! He cried, Diamonds! Greedily, he poured them all out and gloated over them, great scintillating stones of the first water, five pounds of pure, white diamonds, representing so fabulous a fortune that the very contemplation of it staggered the Russian. My God! He replied, The wealth of crisis in my own hands! Quickly he gathered up the stones and replaced them in the sack, always with one eye upon Tarzan and Ja Bal Ja, but neither stirred, and presently he had returned them all to the pouch and slipped the package inside his shirt. Tomorrow, he muttered, Tomorrow! What do God that they had the nerve to attend it to night? In the middle of the following morning, Tarzan, with the four Londoners, approached a good-sized, stockaded village containing many huts. He was received not only graciously, but with the deference due an emperor. The whites were awed by the attitude of the Black Chief and his warriors as Tarzan was conducted into their presence. After the usual ceremony had been gone through, Tarzan turned and waved his hand toward the four Europeans. These are my friends, he said to the Black Chief, and they wished to reach the coast in safety, send with them then sufficient warriors to feed and guard them during the journey. It is I, Tarzan of the Apes, who requests his favor. Tarzan of the Apes, the Great Chief, Lord of the Jungle, has bought to command. Replied the Black. Good, exclaimed Tarzan, feed them well and treat them well. I have other business to attend to and may not remain. The bellies shall be filled, and they shall reach the coast unscathed. Replied the Chief. Without a word of farewell, without even a sign that he realized their existence, Tarzan of the Apes passed from the side of the four Europeans, while at his heels paced Ja Bal Ja, the Golden Lion. End of chapter. Chapter 19 of Tarzan and the Golden Lion. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Josh Herring of Abingdon, Virginia. Tarzan and the Golden Lion by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 19. A barbed shaft kills. Crasky spent a sleepless night. He could not help but realize that sooner or later, Tarzan would discover the loss of his pouch of diamonds, and that he would return and demand an accounting of the four Londoners he had befriended. And so it was that as the first streak of dawn lighted the eastern horizon, the Russian arose from his pallet of dry grasses within the hut that had been assigned to him in Bloober by the Chief and crept stealthily out into the village street. God, he muttered to himself, there is only one chance in a thousand that they can reach the coast alone, but this, and he pressed his hand over the bag of diamonds that lay within his shirt, but this, this is worth every effort. Even through the sacrifice of life, the fortune of a thousand kings, my God, what could I not do with it in London and Paris and New York? Stealthily, he slunk from the village, and presently, the Ventura of the Jungle Beyond closed about Carl Crasky, the Russian, as he disappeared forever from the lives of his companions. Bloober was the first to discover the absence of Crasky for, although there was no love between the two, they had been thrown together owing to the friendship of Peoples and Throck. Have you seen Carl this morning? He asked Peoples as the three men gathered around the pot contained the unsavory stew that had been brought to them for their breakfast. No, said Peoples, he must be asleep yet. He is not in the hut, replied Bloober, if I was not deaf and I woke up. He can take care of himself, growled Throck, resuming his breakfast. You'll likely find him with some of the ladies, and he grinned an appreciation of his little joke on Crasky's well-known weakness. They had finished their breakfast and were attempting to communicate with some of the warriors in an effort to learn when the chief proposed that they should set forth for the coast, and still Crasky had not made an appearance. By this time Bloober was considerably concerned, not at all for Crasky's safety, but for his own, since, if something could happen to Crasky in this friendly village and the still watches of the night, a similar fate might overtake him, and when he made this suggestion to the others it gave them food for thought too, so that there were three rather apprehensive men who sought an audience with the chief. By means of signs and pigeon English and distorted native dialect, a word or two of which each of the three men understood, they managed to convey to the chief the information that Crasky had disappeared, and if they wanted to know what had become of him. The chief was, of course, as much puzzled as they, and immediately instituted a thorough search of the village, with the result that it was soon found that Crasky was not within the palisade, and shortly afterward footprints were discovered leading through the village gateway into the mine god, exclaimed Bloober. He went out there, when he went alone in the middle of the night? He must have been crazy. Guard! cried Throck. What did he want to do that for? You ain't missed nothing, have you? asked the peoples of the other two. He might have stolen something. Oi, oi, what have we got to steal? cried Bloober. Our guns and ammunition, they are here beside us. He did not take them. Beside those, we have nothing of value except my 20 guinea suits. But what did he do it for? cried peoples. He must have been walking in his blooming sleep, said Throck, and that was as near to an explanation of Crasky's mysterious disappearance as the three could reach, an hour later they set out toward the coast under the protection of a company of the chief's warriors. Crasky, his rifle slung over his shoulder, moved doggedly along the jungle trail, a heavy automatic pistol grasped in his right hand. His ears were constantly strained for the first intimation of pursuit, as well as for whatever other dangers might lurk before or upon either side. Alone in the mysterious jungle he was experiencing a nightmare of terror, and with each mile that he traveled the value of the diamonds became less and less by comparison with the frightful ordeal that he realized he must pass through before he could hope to reach the coast. Once, Hista, the snake, swinging from a low hung branch across the trail barred his way, and the man dared not fire at him for fear of attracting the attention of possible pursuers to his position. He was forced therefore to make a detour through the tangled mass of underbrush which grew closely upon either side of the narrow trail. When he reached it again beyond the snake, his clothing was more torn and tattered than before, and his flesh was scratched and cut and bleeding from the innumerable thorns past which he had been compelled to force his way. He was soaked with perspiration and painting from exhaustion, and his clothing was filled with ants whose vicious attacks upon his flesh rendered him half mad with pain. Once again in the clear he tore his clothing from him, and sought frantically to rid himself of the torturing pests. So thick were the myriad ants upon his clothing that he dared not attempt to reclaim it. Only the sack of diamonds, his ammunition, and his weapons did he snatch from the ravining horde whose numbers were rapidly increasing, apparently by millions, as they sought to again lay hold upon him and devour him. Shaking the bulk of the ants from the articles he had retrieved, Kraski dashed madly along the trail as naked as the day he was born, and when, a half hour later, stumbling and at last falling exhausted, he lay panting upon the damp jungle earth, he realized the utter futility of his mad attempt to reach the coast alone, even more fully than he ever could have under any other circumstances, since there is nothing that so paralyzes the courage and self-confidence of a civilized man as to be deprived of his clothing. However scant the protection that might have been afforded by the torn and tattered garments he had discarded, he could not have felt more helpless had he lost his weapons and ammunition instead, for to such an extent are we the creatures of habit and environment. It was therefore a terrified Kraski, already for doomed to failure, who crawled fearfully along the jungle trail. That night he slept in the crotch of a great tree while the hunting carnivore roared and coughed and growled through the blackness of the jungle about him. Shivering with terror, he started momentarily to fearful wakefulness, and when from exhaustion he would doze again, it was not to rest but to dream of horrors that a sudden roar would merge into reality. Thus the long hours of a frightful night dragged out their tedious link, until it seemed that dawn would never come. But it did come, and once again he took up his stumbling way toward the west, reduced by fear and fatigue and pain to a state boring upon half-consciousness, he blundered on, with each passing hour becoming perceptibly weaker, for he had been without food or water since he had deserted his companions more than 30 hours before. Noom was approaching, Kraski was moving but slowly now, with frequent rests, and it was during one of these that there came to his numb sensibilities an insistent suggestion of the voices of human beings not far distant. Quickly he shook himself and attempted to concentrate his waning faculties. He listened intently, and presently, with a renewal of strength he arose to his feet. There was no doubt about it, he heard voices but a short distance away, and they sounded not like the tones of natives, but rather those of Europeans. Yet he was still careful, and so he crawled cautiously forward, until at a turning of the trail he saw before him a clearing dotted with trees which boarded the banks of a muddy stream. Near the edge of the river was a small hut thatched with grasses, and surrounded by a rude palisade and further protected by an outer boma of thornbushes. It was from the direction of the hut that the voices were coming, and now he clearly discerned a woman's voice raised in protest and in anger, and replying to it the deep voice of a man. Slowly the eyes of Karl Kraski went widen in credulity, not unmixed with terror, for the tones of the voice of the man he heard were the tones of the dead Esteban Miranda, and the voice of the woman was that of the missing Flora Hawks, whom he had long since given up as dead also. But Karl Kraski was no believer of the supernatural. Disembodied spirits need no huts or palisades or bomas of thorns. The owners of those voices were as alive, as material, as he. He started forward toward the hut. His hatred of Esteban and his jealousy almost forgotten in the relief he felt in the realization that he was to again have a companionship of creatures of his own kind. He had moved, however, but a few steps from the edge of the jungle when the woman's voice came again to his ear, and with it the sudden realization of his nakedness. He paused and thought, looking about him, and presently he was busily engaged gathering the long, broadleaf jungle grasses, from which he fabricated a rude but serviceable skirt, which he fastened about his waist with a twisted rope of the same material. Then with a feeling of renewed confidence he moved forward toward the hut, fearing that they might not recognize him at first, and, taking him for an enemy, attack him. Kraski, before he reached the entrance to the palisade, called Esteban by name. Immediately the Spaniard came from the hut, followed by the girl. Had Kraski not heard his voice and recognized him by it, he would have thought him Tarzan of the Apes so close was the remarkable resemblance. For a moment he stood looking at the strange apparition before them. Do you know me? asked Kraski. I am Karl. Karl Kraski. You know me, Flora. Karl! exclaimed the girl. And started to leap forward, but Esteban grasped her by the wrist and held her back. What are you doing here, Kraski? asked the Spaniard in a surly tone. I am trying to make my way to the coast, replied the Russian. I am nearly dead from starvation and exposure. The way to the coast is there, said the Spaniard and pointed down the trail toward the west. Keep moving, Kraski. It is not healthy for you here. You mean to say that you will send me on without food or water? demanded the Russian. There is water, said Esteban, pointing at the river. In the jungle is full of food, for one must sufficient courage and intelligence to gather it. You cannot send him away, cried the girl. I do not think it possible that even you could be so cruel. And then, turning to the Russian. Oh, Karl, she cried, do not go. Save me, save me from this beast. Then stained the site, cried Kraski. And as the girl wrenched herself free from the grasp of Miranda, the Russian leveled his automatic and fired point blank at the Spaniard. The bullet missed its target, the empty shell jammed in the breach and as Kraski pulled the trigger again with no result, he glanced at his weapon and, discovering its uselessness, hurled it from him with an oath. As he strove frantically to bring his rifle into action, Esteban threw back his spearhand with the short, heavy spear that he had learned by now so well to use. And before the other could press the trigger of his rifle, the barbed shaft tore through his chest and heart. Without a sound, Karl Kraski sank dead at the foot of his enemy and his rival. While the woman both loved, each in his own selfish or brutal way, sank sobbing to the ground in the last and deepest depths of despair. Seeing that the other was dead, Esteban stepped forward and wrenched his spear from Kraski's body and also relieved his dead enemy of his ammunition and weapons. As he did so, his eyes fell upon a little bag made of skins, which Kraski had fastened to his waist by the grass rope he had recently fashioned to uphold his primitive skirt. The Spaniard felt of the bag and tried to figure out the nature of its contents, coming to the conclusion that it was ammunition. But he did not examine it closely until he had carried the dead man's weapons into his hut, where he had also taken the girl. Kraski crouched in a corner sobbing. Poor Karl! Poor Karl! She moaned and then to the man facing her. You beast! Yes, he cried with a laugh. I am a beast. I am Tarzan of the Apes and that dirty Russian dared to call me Esteban. I am Tarzan! I am Tarzan of the Apes! He repeated in a loud scream. Who dares call me otherwise dies! I will show them! I will show them! He mumbled. The girl looked at him with wide and flaming eyes and shuddered. Mad, she muttered. Mad, my god, alone in a jungle with a maniac! And in truth, in one respect, was Esteban Miranda mad, mad with the madness of the artist who lives the part he plays. And for so long now had Esteban Miranda played the part and so really proficient had he become in his interpretation of the noble character that he believed himself Tarzan. And in outward appearance he might have deceived the eight man's best friend, but within that godlike form was the heart of a ker and the soul of a craven. He would have stolen Tarzan's mate, muttered Esteban. Tarzan, lord of the jungle, did you see how I slew him with a single shaft? You could have a weakling, could you? When you could have the love of the great Tarzan? I loathe you, said the girl. You are indeed a beast. You are lower than the beasts. You are mine though, said the Spaniard. And you shall never be another's. First I will kill you. But let us see what the Russian had in his little bag of heights. He feels like ammunition enough to kill a regiment. And he untied the thongs that held the mouth of the bag closed and let some of the contents spill out upon the floor of the hut. As the sparkling stones rolled scintillant before their astonished eyes, the girl gasped in incredulity. Holy maddie! exclaimed the Spaniard. They are diamonds! Hundreds of them, murmured the girl. Where could he have gotten them? I do not know and I do not care, said Esteban. They are mine. They are all mine. I am rich, Flora. I am rich. And if you are a good girl, you shall share my wealth with me. Flora hawks' eyes narrowed. Awakened within her breast was the always present greed that dominated her being, and besight it, and equally as powerful now to dominate her, her hatred for the Spaniard. Could he have known it? Possession of those gleaming baubles had crystallized at last in the mind of the woman, a determination she had long fostered to slay the Spaniard while he slept. Here to fore she had been afraid of being left alone in the jungle, but now the desire to possess this great wealth overcome her terror. Tarzan, ranging the jungle, picked up the trail of the various West Coast boys, and the fleeing slaves of the dead A-Rabs, and overhauling each intern he prosecuted his search for Louvini, alling the blacks into truthfulness, and leaving them in a state of terror when he departed. Each and every one, they told him the same story. There was none who had seen Louvini since the night of the battle and the fire, and each was positive that he must have escaped with some other band. So thoroughly occupied had the eight man's mind been during the past few days, with his sorrow and his search that lesser considerations had gone neglected, with the result that he had not noted that the bag containing the diamonds was missing. In fact, he had practically forgotten the diamonds when, by the merest vagary of chance his mind happened to revert to them, and then it was that he suddenly realized that they were missing, but when he had lost them, where the circumstances surrounding the loss, he could not recall. Those rascally Europeans, he muttered to Jadbalja, they must have taken them, and suddenly with the thought the scarlet scar flamed brilliantly upon his forehead, as just anger welled within him against the perfidy and ingratitude of the men he had suckered. Come, he said to Jadbalja, as we search for Louvini, we shall search for these others too. And so it was that Peebles and Throck and Bloober had traveled but a short distance toward the coast wind, during a noonday halt, they were surprised to see the figure of the eight-man moving majestically toward them while, at his side, past the great Blackmane Lion. Tarzan made no acknowledgment of their exuberant greeting, but came forward in silence to stand at last with folded arms before them. There was a grim accusing expression upon his countenance that brought the chill of fear to Bloober's cowardly heart, and blanched the faces of the two hardened English pugs. What is it? they chorused. What is wrong? What has happened? I have come for the bag of stones you took from me, said Tarzan simply. Each of the three eyed his companions suspiciously. I do not understand what you mean, Mr. Tarzan, purred Bloober, rubbing his palms together. I am sure there is some mistake, unless... He cast a furtive and suspicious glance in the direction of Peebles and Throck. I don't know nothing about no bag of stones, said Peebles. What I will say is how you can't trust no Jew. I don't trust any of you, said Tarzan. I will give you five seconds to hand over the bag of stones, and if you don't produce it in that time, I shall have you thoroughly searched. Sure, cried Bloober. Search me, search me, by all means. Fire, Mr. Tarzan, I wouldn't take nothing from you for nothing. There's something wrong here, growled Throck. I ain't got nothing of yours, and I'm sure these two haven't either. Where's the other, asked Tarzan. Oh, Graski? He disappeared the same night you brought us to that village. We ain't seen him since. That's it, I got it. We wondered why he left, and now I see it as plain as the face on my nose. It was him that stole the bag of stones. That's what he done. We've been trying to figure out ever since he left what he stole, and now I see it plain enough. Sure, exclaimed Peoples. That's it. And here we are, and that's that. V might have known it. V might have known it, agreed Bloober. But nevertheless, I'm going to have you all searched, said Tarzan, and when the headman came and Tarzan had explained what he desired, the three whites were quickly stripped and searched. Even their few belongings were thoroughly gone through, but no bag of stones was revealed. Without a word, Tarzan turned back toward the jungle, and in another moment the blacks and three Europeans saw the leafy sea of foliage swallow the eight man in the golden lion. Gord helped Graski, exclaimed Peoples. What do you suppose he wants of the bag of stones? inquired Throck. He must have been a bit balmy, I say. Balmy, nothing, exclaimed Bloober. There is but one kind of stone in Africa that Graski would steal and run off into the jungle alone. Diamonds! Peoples and Throck opened their eyes in surprise. A damned Russian, exclaimed the former. He double-crossed us, that's what he did. He likely has not saved our lives, says I, said Throck. If this eight fellow had found Graski and the diamonds with us, we'd have all suffered alike. You couldn't have made him believe that we didn't have a hand in it, and Graski wouldn't have done nothing to help us out. I hope he catches the beggar, exclaimed Peoples fervently. They were startled in silence a moment later by the sight of Tarzan returning to the camp, but he paid no attention to the whites, going instead directly to the headman, with whom he conferred for several minutes. Then, once more, he turned and left. Acting on information gained from the headman, Tarzan struck off through the jungle in the general direction of the village where he had left the four whites in charge of the chief, and from which Graski had later escaped alone. He moved rapidly, leaving Jodbal Ja to follow behind, covering the distance to the village in a comparatively short time since he moved almost in an airline through the trees, where there was no matter to undergrowth to impede his progress. Outside the village gate he took up Graski's spore, now almost obliterated it as true, but still legible to the keen perceptive faculties of the eightman. This he followed swiftly, since Graski had clung tenaciously to the open trail that wound in a general whispered direction. The sun had dropped almost to the western treetops, when Tarzan came suddenly upon a clearing beside a sluggish stream, near the banks of which stood a small, rude hut, surrounded by a palisade and a thorned Bulma. The eightman paused and listened, sniffing the air with his sensitive nostrils, and then on noiseless feet he crossed the clearing toward the hut, and the grass outside the palisade lay the dead body of a white man, and a single glance told the eightman that it was the fugitive whom he sought. Instantly he recognized the futility of searching the corpse for the bag of diamonds, since it was a foregone conclusion that they were now in the possession of whomever had slain the Russian. A perfunctory examination revealed the fact that he was right insofar as the absence of the diamonds was concerned. Both inside the hut and outside the palisade were indications of the recent presence of a man and woman, the spore of the former tallying with that of the creature who had killed Gobu, the great ape, and hunted Bara, the deer, upon the preserves of the eightman, but the woman, who was she? It was evident that she had been walking upon sore, tired feet, and that in lieu of shoes she had worn bandages of cloth. Tarzan followed the spore of the man and the woman where it led from the hut into the jungle. As it progressed it had become apparent that the woman had been lagging behind, and that she had commenced to limp more and more painfully. Her progress was very slow, and Tarzan could see that the man had not waited for her, but that he had been in some places a considerable distance ahead of her, and so it was that Esteban had forged far ahead of Flora Hawks, whose bruised and bleeding feet would scare support her. Wait for me, Esteban, she had pleaded. Do not desert me. Do not leave me alone here in this terrible jungle. Then keep up with me, growled the Spaniard. Do you think with this fortune in my position that I am going to wait here forever in the middle of the jungle for someone to come and take it away from me? No. I am going to the coast as fast as I can. If you can keep up, well and good. If you cannot, that is your own lookout. But you could not desert me. Even you, Esteban, could not be such a beast after all that you have forced me to do for you. The Spaniard laughed. Draw nothing more to me, he said, than an old glove. With this, and he held the sack of diamonds before him, I can purchase the finest gloves in the capitals of the world, new gloves, and he laughed grimly at his little joke. Esteban, Esteban, she cried, come back, come back. I can go no further. Do not leave me. Please come back and save me. But he only laughed at her, and as a turn of the trail shut him from her sight, she sank helpless and exhausted to the ground. CHAPTER 20 THE DEAD RETURN That night, Esteban made his lonely camp beside a jungle trail that wound through the dry wash of an old riverbed, along which a tiny rivulet still trickled, according to Spaniard the water which he craved. The obsession which possessed him that he was in truth tarzan of the apes imparted to him a false courage, so that he could camp alone upon the ground without recourse to artificial protection of any kind, and fortune had favored him in this respect, in that it had sent no prowling beasts of prey to find him upon those occasions that he had dared too much. During the period that Flora Hawks had been with him, he had built shelters for her, but now that he had deserted her and was again alone, he could not, in the role that he had assumed, consider so effeminate an act as the building of even a thorned Bulma for protection during the darkness of the night. He did, however, build a fire, for he had made a kill and had not yet reached a point of primitive savagery which permitted him even to imagine that he enjoyed raw meat. Having devoured what meat he wanted and filled himself at the little rivulet, Esteban came back and squatted before his fire, where he drew the pouch of diamonds from his loincloth end, opening it, spilled a handful of the precious gems into his palm, the flickering firelight playing upon them since scintillant gleam shooting into the dark of the surrounding jungle night as the Spaniard led a tiny stream of the sparkling stones trickle from one hand to the other, and in the pretty play of light the Spaniard saw visions of the future, power, luxury, beautiful women, all that great wealth might purchase for a man. With half-closed eyes he dreamed of the ideal that he should search the world over to obtain, the dream woman for whom he had always searched, the dream woman he had never found, the fit companion for such as Esteban Miranda imagined himself to be. Presently through the dark lashes that failed his narrowed lids the Spaniard seemed to see before him in the flickering light of his campfire a vague materialization of the figure of his dream, a woman's figure, clothed in flowing diaphanous white, which appeared to hover just above him at the outer rim of his firelight at the summit of the ancient riverbank. It was strange how the vision persisted, Esteban closed his eyes tightly, and then opened them ever so little, and there, as it had been before he closed them, the vision remained, and then he opened his eyes wide, and so the figure of the woman in white floated above him. Esteban Miranda went suddenly pale. Mother of God, he cried, eat his flora, she is dead and has come back to haunt me. With staring eyes he slowly rose to his feet to confront the apparition, when in soft and gentle tones it spoke, heart of my heart, it cried, it is really you. Instantly Esteban realized that this was no disembodied spirit, nor was it flora, but who was it? Who was this vision of beauty, alone in the savage African wilderness? Very slowly now it was descending the embankment and coming toward him. Esteban returned the diamonds to the pouch and replaced it inside his loincloth. With outstretched arms the girl came toward him. My love, my love, she cried, do not tell me that you do not know me. She was close enough now for the Spaniard to see her rapidly rising and falling breasts, and her lips trembling with love and passion. A sudden wave of hot desire swept over him, so with outstretched arms he sprang forward to meet her and crush her to his breast. Tarzan, following the swore of the man and the woman, moved in a leisurely manner along the jungle trail, for he realized that no haste was essential to overtake these two, nor was he at all surprised when he came suddenly upon the huddled figure of a woman, lying in the center of the pathway. He knelt beside her and laid a hand upon her shoulder, eliciting a startled scream. God! she cried, this is the end. You're in no danger, said the eight man. I will not harm you. She turned her eyes and looked up at him. At first she thought he was Esteban. You have come back to save me, Esteban? She asked. Esteban, he exclaimed. I am not Esteban, that is not my name. And then she recognized him. Lord Greystoke! she cried. It is really you? Yes, he said. And who are you? I am Flora Hawks. I was Lady Greystoke's maid. I remember you, he said. What are you doing here? I am afraid to tell you, she said. I am afraid of your anger. Tell me, he commanded. You should know, Flora, that I do not harm women. We came to get gold from the vaults of Opar, she said. But that you know. I know nothing of it, he replied. Do you mean that you were with those Europeans who drug me and left me in their camp? Yes, she said. We got the gold, but you came with your waziri and took it from us. I came with no waziri and took nothing from you, said Tarzan. I do not understand you. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, for she knew that Tarzan of the apes did not lie. We became separated, she said, after our men turned against us. Esteban stole me from the others, and then, after a while Krasky found us, he was the Russian. He came with a bag full of diamonds, and then Esteban killed him and took the diamonds. It was now Tarzan's turn to experience surprise. And Esteban is the man who is with you, he asked. Yes, she said. But he has deserted me. I could not walk farther on my sore feet. He has gone and left me here to die, and he has taken the diamonds with him. We shall find him, said the eight man. Come. But I cannot walk, said the girl. That is a small matter, he said, and stooping lifted her to his shoulder. Easily the eight man bore the exhausted girl along the trail. It is not far to the water, he said, and water is what you need. It will help to revive you and give you strength, and perhaps I should be able to find food for you soon. Why are you so good to me? asked the girl. You are a woman. I could not leave you alone in the jungle to die, no matter what you may have done, replied the eight man. And Flora Hawks could only sob a broken plea for forgiveness for the wrong she had done him. It grew quite dark, but still they moved along the silent trail until presently Tarzan caught in the distance the reflection of firelight. I think we shall soon find your friend, he whispered, make no noise. A moment later his keen ears caught the sound of voices. He halted and lowered the girl to her feet. If you cannot follow, he said, wait here. I do not wish him to escape. I will return for you. If you can follow on slowly, do so. And then he left her and made his way cautiously forward toward the light and the voices. He heard Flora Hawks moving directly behind him. It was evident that she could not bear the thought of being left alone again in the dark jungle. Almost simultaneously, Tarzan heard a low whine a few paces to his right. Jadbalja, he whispered in a low voice, heal. And the great black main lion crept close to him. And Flora Hawks, stifling a scream, rushed to his side and grasped his arms. Silence, he whispered, Jadbalja will not harm you. An instant later the three came to the edge of the ancient riverbank, and through the tall grasses growing there looked down upon the camp beneath. Tarzan, to his consternation, saw a counterpart of himself standing before a little fire. While slowly approaching the man with outstretched arms was a woman, draped in flowing white. He heard her words, soft words of love and endearment. And at the sound of the voice, in the sense for that a vagrant wind carried suddenly to his nostrils, a strange complex of emotion overwhelmed him. Happiness, despair, rage, love, and hate. He saw the man at the fire step forward with open arms to take the woman to his breast. And then Tarzan separated the grasses and stepped to the very edge of the embankment, his voice shattering the jungle with a single word. Jain, he cried, and instantly the man and woman turned and looked up at him, where his figure was dimly revealed in the light of the campfire. Outside of him, the man wheeled and raced for the jungle on the opposite side of the river, and then Tarzan leaped to the bottom of the wash below and ran toward the woman. Jain, he cried, it is you, it is you. The woman showed her bewilderment, she looked first at the retreating figure of the man she had been about to embrace, and then turned her eyes toward Tarzan. She drew her fingers across her brow and looked back toward Esteban, but Esteban was no longer in sight. Then she took a faltering step toward the ape man. My God, she cried. What does it mean? Who are you? And if you are Tarzan, who was he? I am Tarzan, Jain, said the ape man. She looked back and saw Flora Hawks approaching. Yes, she said, you are Tarzan. I saw you when you ran off into the jungle with Flora Hawks. I cannot understand, John. I could not believe that you, even if you had suffered an accident to your head, could have done such a thing. I run off into the jungle with Flora Hawks, he asked in unfeigned surprise. I saw you, said Jain, the ape man turned toward Flora. I do not understand it, he said. It was Esteban who ran off into the jungle with me, Lady Grey Stoke, said the girl. It was Esteban who was about to deceive you again. This is indeed Lord Grey Stoke. The other was an imposter who only just deserted me and left me to die in the jungle. Had not Lord Grey Stoke come when he did, I should be dead by now. Lady Grey Stoke took a faltering step toward her husband. Ah, John, she said, I knew it could not have been you. My heart told me, but my eyes deceived me. Quick, she cried, that imposter must be captured. Hurry, John, before he escapes. Let him go, said the ape man, as much as I want him, as much as I want that which he has stolen from me. I will not leave you alone again in the jungle, Jain, even to catch him. But Jadbal Ja, she cried, what of him? Ah, cried the ape man, I had forgotten. And turning to the lion he pointed toward the direction that the Spaniard had escaped. Fetch him, Jadbal Ja, he cried, and, with a bound, the tawny beast was off upon the spore of his quarry. He will kill him, asked Flora Hawk, shuddering, and yet at heart she was glad of the just fate that was overtaking the Spaniard. No, he will not kill him, said Tarzan of the Apes. He may maul him a bit, but he will bring him back alive if it is possible. And then, as though the fate of the fugitive was already forgotten, he turned toward his mate. Jain, he said, Usula told me that you were dead. He said that they found your burned body in the Arab village, and that they had buried it there. How is it, then, that you are here alive and unharmed? I have been searching the jungles for Louvini to avenge your death. Perhaps it is well that I did not find him. You would never have found him, replied Jain Clayton. But I cannot understand why Usula should have told you that he had found my body and buried it. Some prisoners that he took, replied Tarzan, told him that Louvini had taken you bound hand and foot into one of the Arab huts near the village gateway, and that there he had further secured you to a stake driven into the floor of the hut. After the village had been destroyed by fire, Usula and the other Waziri returned to search for you with some of the prisoners they had taken who pointed out the location of the hut, where the charred remains of a human body were found beside a burned stake, to which it had apparently been tied. Ah, exclaimed the girl, I see. Louvini did bind me hand and foot and tied me to the stake, but later he came back into the hut and removed the bonds. He attempted to attack me, how long we fought I do not know, but so engrossed were we in our struggle that neither one of us was aware of the burning of the village about us. As I persistently fought him off I caught a glimpse of a knife in his belt, and then I let him seize me, and as his arms encircled me I grasped the knife and, drawing it from its sheath, plunged it into his back below his left shoulder. That was the end. Louvini sank lifeless to the floor of the hut, almost simultaneously the rear and roof of the structure burst into flames. I was almost naked, for he had torn nearly all of my clothing from me in our struggles. Hanging upon the wall of the hut was this white bernouse, the property doubtless of one of the murdered A-Raps. I seized it, and throwing it about me ran into the village street. The huts were now all aflame, and the last of the natives was disappearing through the gateway. To my right was a section of palisade that had not yet been attacked by the flames. To escape into the jungle by the gateway would have meant running into the arms of my enemies, and so, somehow, I managed to scale the palisade and drop into the jungle unseen by any. I have had considerable difficulty eluding the various bands of blacks who escaped the village. A part of the time I have been hunting for the Waziri, and the balance I have had to remain in hiding. I was resting in the crotch of a tree, about half a mile from here, when I saw the light of this man's campfire. And when I came to investigate I was almost stunned by joy to discover that I had, as I imagined, stumbled upon my Tarzan. It was Louvini's body then, and not yours that they buried, said Tarzan. Yes, said Jane, and it was this man who just escaped whom I saw run off into the jungle with Flora, and not you as I believed. Flora Hawks looked up suddenly, and it must have been Esteban who came with the Waziri and stole the gold from us. He fooled our men, and he must have fooled the Waziri too. He might have fooled anyone if he could deceive me, said Jane Clayton. I should have discovered the deception in a few minutes, I have no doubt. But in the flickering light of the campfire, and influenced as I was by the great joy of seeing Lord Greystoke again, I believed quickly that which I wanted to believe. The eight man ran his fingers through his thick shock of hair and a characteristic gesture of meditation. I cannot understand how he fooled Usla in broad daylight, he said with a shake of his head. I can, said Jane. He told him that he had suffered an injury to his head which had caused him to lose his memory partially, an explanation which accounted for many lapses in the man's interpretation of your personality. He was a clever devil, commented the eight man. He was a devil all right, said Flora. It was more than an hour later that the grasses at the river bank suddenly parted and Jodbal Ja emerged silently into their presence. Grasperton's jaws was a torn, bloody leopard skin which he brought and laid at the feet of his master. The eight man picked the thing up and examined it, and then he scowled. I believe Jodbal Ja killed him after all, he said. He probably resisted, said Jane Clayton. In which event Jodbal Ja could do nothing else in self-defense but slay him. Do you suppose he ate him? cried Flora Hawks, drawing fearfully away from the beast. No, said Tarzan. He has not had time. In the morning we will follow the spore and find his body. I should like to have the diamonds again. And then he told Jane the strange story connected with his acquisition of the great wealth represented by the Little Bag of Stones. The following morning they set out in search of Esteban's corpse. The trail led through dense brush and thorns to the edge of the river farther downstream, and there it disappeared. And though the eight man searched both sides of the river for a couple miles above and below the point at which he had lost the spore, he found no further sign of the Spaniard. There was blood along the tracks that Esteban had made, and blood upon the grasses at the river's brim. At last the eight man returned to the two women. That is the end of the man who would be Tarzan, he said. Do you think he is dead? asked Jane. Yes, I am sure of it, said the eight man. From the blood I imagine that Jodbal Ja mauled him, but that he managed to break away and get into the river. The fact that I can find no indication of his having reached the bank within a reasonable distance of this spot leads me to believe that he has been devoured by crocodiles. Again Flora Hawks shuttered. He was a wicked man, she said, but I would not wish even the wickedest such a fate as that. The eight man shrugged. He brought it upon himself, and, doubtless, the world is better off without him. It is my fault, said Flora. It was my wickedness that brought him and the others here. I told them of what I had heard of the gold and the treasure vaults of Opar. It was my idea to come here and steal it, and to find a man who could impersonate Lord Greystoke. Because of my wickedness, many men have died, and you, Lord Greystoke, and your lady, have almost met your death. I do not dare to ask for forgiveness. Jane Clayton put her arm about the girl's shoulder. Avarice has been the cause of many crimes since the world began, she said, and when crime is invoked in its aid, it assumes its most repulsive aspect and brings most often its own punishment, as you, Flora, may well testify. For my part, I forgive you. I imagine that you have learned your lesson. You have paid a heavy price for your folly, said the eight man. You have been punished enough. We will take you to your friends who are on their way to the coast under escort of a friendly tribe. They cannot be far distant, for, from the condition of the men when I saw them, long marches are beyond their physical powers. The girl dropped her knees at his feet. How can I thank you for your kindness, she said, but I would rather remain here in Africa with you and Lady Greystoke, and work for you, and show by my loyalty that I can redeem the wrong I did you. Tarzan glanced at his wife questioningly, and Jane Clayton signified her assent to the girl's request. Very well then, said the eight man. You may remain with us, Flora. You will never regret it, said the girl. I will work my fingers off for you. The three, and Jad Balja, had been three days upon the march toward home when Tarzan, who was in the lead, paused and, raising his head, sniffed the jungle air. Then he turned to them with a smile. My Waziri are disobedient, he said. I sent them home, and yet here they are coming toward us, directly away from home. A few minutes later they met the van of the Waziri, and Grey was the rejoicing of the blacks when they found both their master and mistress alive and unscathed. And now that we have found you, said Tarzan after the greetings were over, and innumerable questions had been asked and answered, tell me what you did with the gold that you took from the camp of the Europeans. We hid it, Obana. Where you told us to hide it? Replied, Ursula. I was not with you, Ursula, said the eight man. It was another who deceived Lady Greystoke even as he deceived you, a bad man, who impersonated Tarzan of the Apes so cleverly, that it is no wonder that you were imposed upon. Then it was not you who told us that your head had been injured, and that you could not remember the language of the Waziri, demanded, Ursula. It was not I, said Tarzan, for my head has not been injured, and I remember well the language of my children. Ah, cried Ursula. Then it was not our big Buana who ran from Buto the Rhinoceros? Tarzan laughed. Did the other run from Buto? That he did, cried Ursula. He ran in great terror. I do not know that I blame him, said Tarzan, for Buto is no pleasant playfellow. But our big Buana would not run from him, said Ursula proudly. Even if another than I hid the gold, it was you who dug the hole. Leave me to the spot then, Ursula. The Waziri constructed rude yet comfortable letters for the two white women, though Jane Clayton laughed at the idea that it was necessary that she be carried and insisted upon walking beside her bears more often than she rode. Flora Hawks, however, weak and exhausted as she was, could not have proceeded far without being carried, and was glad of the presence of the brawny Waziri who bore her along the jungle trail so easily. It was a happy company that marched in buoyant spirits toward the spot where the Waziri had cashed the gold for Esteban. The blacks were overflowing with good nature because they had found their master and their mistress, while the relief and joy of Tarzan and Jane were too deep for expression. When at last they came to the place beside the river where they had buried the gold, the Waziri, singing and laughing, commenced to dig for the treasure, but presently they're singing ceased, and their laughter was replaced by expressions of puzzled concern. For a while Tarzan watched them in silence, and then a slow smile overspread his countenance. You must have buried it deep, Usla, he said. The blacks scratched his head. No, not so deep as this, Buana, he cried. I cannot understand it. We should have found the gold before this. Are you sure you are looking in the right place? asked Tarzan. This is the exact spot, Buana, the black assured him, but the gold is not here. Someone has removed it since we buried it. The Spaniard again, commented Tarzan. He was a slick customer. But he could not have taken it alone, said Usla. There were many ingots of it. No, said Tarzan. He could not, and yet it is not here. The Waziri and Tarzan searched carefully about the spot where the gold had been buried, but so clever had been the woodcraft of Alwaza, that he had obliterated even from the keen senses of the eight-man every vestige of the spore that he and the Spaniard had made in carrying the gold from the old hiding place to the new. It is gone, said the eight-man. But I shall see that it does not get out of Africa, and he dispatched runners in various directions to notify the chiefs of the friendly tribes surrounding his domain to watch carefully every safari crossing their territory and to let none pass who carried gold. That will stop them, he said after the runners had departed. That night, as they made their camp upon the trail toward home, the three whites receded about a small fire, with Jabbalja lying just behind the eight-man, who was examining the leopard skin that the golden lion had retrieved in his pursuit of the Spaniard, when Tarzan turned toward his wife. You were right, Jane, he said. The treasure vaults of Opar are not for me. This time I have lost not only the gold, but a fabulous fortune in diamonds as well, besides risking the greatest of all treasures, yourself. Let the golden diamonds go, John, she said. We have one another, and Korak. And a bloody leopard skin, he supplemented, with a mystery map painted upon it in blood. Jabbalja sniffed the hide and licked his chops in anticipation or retrospection, which. End of Chapter Chapter 21 of Tarzan and the Golden Lion This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Josh Herring of Abingdon, Virginia. Tarzan and the Golden Lion by Edgar Rice Burrows Chapter 21 An Escape and a Capture At sight of the true Tarzan, as Tabamiranda turned and fled blindly into the jungle, his heart was cold with terror as he rushed on in blind fear. He had no objective in mind. He did not know in what direction he was going, his only thought, the thought which dominated him, was based solely upon a desire to put as much distance as possible between himself and the eight man. And so he blundered on, forcing his way through dense thickets of thorns that tore and macerated his flesh until, at every step, he left a trail of blood behind him. At the river's edge, the thorns reached out and seized again, as they had several times before, the precious leopard skin to which he clung with almost the same tenacity as he clung to life itself. But this time, the thorns would not leave go their hold. And as he struggled to tear it away from them, his eyes turned back in the direction from which he had come. He heard the sound of a great body moving rapidly through the thicket toward him, and an instant later he saw the baleful glare of two gleaming yellow-green spots of flame. With a stifled cry of terror, the Spaniard relinquished his hold upon the leopard skin and, wheeling, dived into the river. As the black waters closed above his head, Jodbal Ja came to the edge of the bank and looked down upon the widening circles which marked the spot of his quarry's disappearance. For Esteban, who was a strong swimmer, struck boldly for the opposite side of the stream, keeping himself well submerged. For a moment, the golden lion scanned the surface of the river, and then he turned and sniffed at the hide the Spaniard had been forced to leave behind, and grasping it in his jaws tore it from the thorns that held it and carried it back to lay at the feet of his master. Forced at last to come to the surface for air, the Spaniard arose amid a mass of tangled foliage and branches. For a moment he thought that he was lost, so tightly held was he by the entangling boughs. But presently he forced his way upward, and as his head appeared above the surface of the water amidst the foliage, he discovered that he had arisen directly beneath the fallen tree that was floating down the center of the stream. After considerable effort, he managed to draw himself up to the boughs, and find a place to stride the great bowl, and thus he floated downstream in comparative safety. He breathed the deep sigh of relief as he realized with what comparative ease he had to escape the just vengeance of the ape man. It is true that he bemoaned the loss of the hide which carried the map to the location of the hidden gold, but he still retained in his possession a far greater treasure, and as he thought of it, his hands gloatingly fondled the bag of diamonds fastened to his loincloth. Yet, even though he possessed this great fortune and diamonds, his avaricious mind constantly returned to the golden ingots by the waterfall. Oh, as it will get it, he muttered to himself, I never trusted the black dog, and when he deserted me, I knew well enough what his plans were. All night long, Esteban Miranda floated downstream upon the fallen tree, seeing no life until shortly after daybreak, he passed a native village upon the shore. It was the village of Obibi, the cannibal, and at sight of the strange figure of the white giant floating down the stream upon the bowl of a tree, the young woman who aspired him raised a great hue and cry until the population of the village lined the shore watching him pass. It is a strange god, cried one. It is the River Devil, said the witch doctor. He is a friend of mine. Now indeed shall we catch many fish, if for each tin that you catch, you give one to me. It is not the River Devil, rumbled the deep voice of Obibi the cannibal. You are getting old, he said to the witch doctor. In the fleet, your medicine has been poor medicine, and now you tell me that Obibi's greatest enemy is the River Devil? That is Tarzan of the Apes, Obibi knows him well. And in truth, every cannibal chief in the vicinity knew Tarzan of the Apes well and feared and hated him, for relentless had been the eight-man's war against them. It is Tarzan of the Apes, repeated Obibi, and he is in trouble, but perhaps it is our chance to capture him. He called his warriors about him, and presently half a hundred brawny young bucks started at a jog trot down the trail that paralleled the river. For many miles they followed the slowly moving tree which carried Esteban Miranda, until at last, at a bend in the river, the tree was caught in the outer circle of a slow moving eddy, which carried it beneath the overhanging limbs of trees growing close to the river's edge. Cramped and chilled and hungry as he was, Esteban was glad of the opportunity to desert his craft and gain the shore, and so, laboriously, he drew himself up among the branches of the tree that momentarily offered him a haven of retreat from the river, and crawling to its stem, lowered himself to the ground beneath, unconscious of the fact that in the grasses around him squatted half a hundred cannibal warriors. Against the bowl of the tree, the Spaniard rested for a moment. He felt for the diamonds and found that they were safe. I am a lucky devil after all, he said aloud, and almost simultaneously the fifty blacks arose about him and leaped upon him. So sudden was the attack, so overwhelming the force, that the Spaniard had no opportunity to defend himself against them, with the result that he was down and securely bound almost before he could realize what was happening to him. Ah, third of the eeps, I have you at last. Loaded Obibi, the cannibal, but Esteban did not understand a word the man said, and so he could make no reply. He talked to Obibi in English, but that language the latter did not understand. Of only one thing was Esteban certain, that he was a prisoner, and that he was being taken back toward the interior. When they reached Obibi's village, there was great rejoicing on the part of the women and the children and the warriors who had remained behind, but the witch doctor shook his head and made rye faces and dire prophecies. You have seized the river, devil, he said. We shall catch no more fish. In presently, a great sickness will fall upon Obibi's people, and they will all die like flies. But Obibi only laughed at the witch doctor for, being an old man and a great king, he had accumulated much wisdom, and, with the acquisition of wisdom, man is more inclined to be skeptical in matters of religion. You may laugh now, Obibi, said the witch doctor, but later you will not laugh. Wait and see. When, with my own hands, I killed a thousand of the eeps, then indeed shall I laugh, replied the chief, and when I and my warriors have eaten his heart and his flesh, then indeed shall we no longer fear any of your devils. Wait, cried the witch doctor angrily, and you shall see. They took the Spaniard, securely bound, and threw him into a filthy hut, through the doorway of which he could see the women of the village preparing cooking fires and pots for the feast of the coming night. A cold sweat stood out upon the brow of Esteban Miranda as he watched these gruesome preparations, the significance of which he could not misinterpret when coupled with the gestures and glances that were directed toward the hut where he lay, by the inhabitants of the village. The afternoon was almost spent, and the Spaniard felt that he could count the hours of life remaining to him upon possibly two fingers of one hand, when there came from the direction of the river a series of piercing screams which shattered the quiet of the jungle, and brought the inhabitants of the village to startled attention, and an instant later sent them in a mad rush in the direction of the fear-laden shrieks. But they were too late, and reached the river only just in time to see a woman dragged beneath the surface by a huge crocodile. Ah, Obibi, what did I tell you? Demanded the witch doctor exultantly. Already has the devil god commenced his revenge upon your people. The ignorant villagers, steeped in superstition, looked fearfully from their witch doctor to their chief. Obibi scowled. He is Tarzan of the Apes, he insisted. He is the river devil, who has taken the shape of Tarzan of the Apes, insisted the witch doctor. We shall see, replied Obibi. If he is the river devil, he can escape our bonds. If he is Tarzan of the Apes, he cannot. If he is the river devil, he will not die a natural death like men die, but will live on forever. If he is Tarzan of the Apes, someday he will die. We will keep him then, and see, and that will prove whether or not he is Tarzan of the Apes or the river devil. How? asked the witch doctor. It is very simple, replied Obibi. If some morning we find that he has escaped, we will know that he is the river devil, and because we have not harmed him, but have fed him well while he has been here in our village, he will defend us, and no harm will come of it. But if he does not escape, we will know that he is Tarzan of the Apes, provided he dies a natural death. And so, if he does not escape, we shall keep him until he dies, and then we shall know that he was, indeed, Tarzan of the Apes. But suppose he does not die? Asked the witch doctor, scratching his woolly head. Then, exclaimed Obibi triumphantly, we will know that you are right, and that he was indeed the river devil. Obibi went and ordered the women to take food to the Spaniard, while the witch doctor stood where Obibi had left him, in the middle of the street, still scratching his head and thought. And thus was Esteban Miranda, possessor of the most fabulous fortune and diamonds that the world has ever known, condemned to life imprisonment in the village of Obibi, the cannibal. While he had been lying in the hut, his traitors confederate Owaza, from the opposite bank of the river from the spot where he and Esteban had hidden the golden ingots, saw Tarzan and his Waziri come and search for the gold, and go away again. And the following morning, Owaza came with 50 men whom he recruited from a neighboring village, and dug up the gold and started with it toward the coast. That night, Owaza made camp just outside a tiny village of a minor chief, who was weak in warriors. The old fellow invited Owaza into his compound, and there he fed him and gave him native beer, while the chief's people circulated among Owaza's boys, plying them with innumerable questions until at last the truth leaked out, and the chief knew that Owaza's porters were carrying a great store of yellow gold. When the chief learned this for certain, he was much perturbed, but finally a smile crossed his face as he talked with the half-drunken Owaza. You have much gold with you, said the old chief. And it is very heavy. It will be hard to get your boys to carry it all the way back to the coast. Yes, said Owaza, but I shall pay them well. If they did not have to carry it so far from home, you would not have to pay them so much, would you? asked the chief. No, said Owaza, but I cannot dispose of it this side of the coast. I know where you can dispose of it within two days' march, replied the old chief. Where? demanded Owaza, and who here in the interior will buy it? There is a white man who will give you a little piece of paper for it, and you can take that paper to the coast and get the full value of your gold. Who is this white man? demanded Owaza, and where is he? He is a friend of mine, said the chief, and if you wish, I will take you to him on the model, and you can ring with you all your gold and get the little piece of paper. Good, said Owaza, and then I shall not have to pay the carriers but a very small amount. The carriers were glad indeed to learn the next day that they were not to go all the way to the coast, for even the lure of payment was not sufficient to overcome their dislike to so long a journey, and their fear of being at so great a distance from home. They were very happy therefore as they set forth on a two days' march toward the northeast, and Owaza was happy, and so was the old chief who accompanied them himself. Though why he was happy about it, Owaza could not guess. They had marched for almost two days when the chief sent one of his own men forward with a message. It is to my friend, he said, to tell him to come and meet us, and lead us to his village. And a few hours later, as the little caravan emerged from the jungle onto a broad, grassy plain, they saw not far from them, and approaching rapidly a large band of warriors. Owaza halted. Who are those? he demanded. Those are the warriors of my friend, replied the chief, and he is with them. See? And he pointed toward a figure at the head of the blacks, who were approaching at a trot, their spears and white plumes gleaming in the sunshine. They come for war and not for peace, said Owaza fearfully. That depends upon you, Owaza, replied the chief. I do not understand you, said Owaza, but you will in a few minutes after my friend has come. As the advancing warriors approached more closely, Owaza saw a giant white at their head, a white whom he mistook for Esteban. They confederate he had so traitorously deserted. He turned upon the chief. You have betrayed me, he cried. Wait, said the old chief, nothing that belongs to you shall be taken from you. The gold is not his, cried Owaza. He stole it, and he pointed at Tarzan, who had approached and halted before him, but who ignored him entirely and turned to the chief. Your runner came, he said to the old man, and brought your message, and Tarzan and his waziri have come to see what they could do for their old friend. The chief smiled. Your runner came to me, O Tarzan, four days since, and two days later came this man with his carriers, bearing gold ingots toward the coast. I told him that I had a friend who would buy them, giving him a little piece of paper for them. But that, of course, only in case the gold belonged to Owaza. The eight man smiled. You have done well, my friend, he said. The gold does not belong to Owaza. It does not belong to you, either, cried Owaza. You are not Tarzan of the Apes, I know you. You came with the four white men and the white woman to steal the gold from Tarzan's country, and then you stole it from your own friends. The chief and waziri laughed. The eight man smiled one of his slow smiles. The other was an imposter, Owaza, he said. But I am Tarzan of the Apes, and I thank you for bringing my gold to me. Come, he said. It is but a few more miles to my home, and the eight man compelled Owaza to direct his carriers to bear the golden ingots to the Greystook bungalow. There, Tarzan fed the carriers and paid them, and the next morning sent them back toward their own country, and he sent Owaza with them, but not without a gift of value, accompanied with an admonition that the black never again returned to Tarzan's country. When they had all departed, and Tarzan and Jane and Korak were standing upon the veranda of the bungalow, with Jad Balja lying at their feet, the eight man threw an arm about his mate's shoulders. I shall have to retract what I said about the gold of Opar not being for me, for you see before you a new fortune that has come all the way from the treasure vaults of Opar without any effort on my part. Now if someone would only bring your diamonds back, laughed Jane. No chance of that, said Tarzan, they were unquestionably at the bottom of the Uggogo river, and far away upon the banks of the Uggogo, in the village of Obibi, the cannibal, Esteban Miranda lay in the filth of the hut that had been assigned to him, gloating over the fortune that he could never utilize as he entered upon a life of captivity that the stubbornness and superstition of Obibi had doomed him to undergo. End of Chapter End of Tarzan and the Golden Mayan by Edgar Rice Burroughs