Tarzan of the Apes Reswung

by Edna Rice Burroughs

  Chapter 14

  At the Mercy of the Jungle

  After Clayton had plunged into the jungle, the sailors --mutineers of the Arrow--fell into a discussion of their next step; but on one point all were agreed--that they should hasten to put off to the anchored Arrow, where they could at least be safe from the spears of their unseen foe. And so, while Jan Porter and Esmond were barricading themselves within the cabin, the cowardly crew of cutthroats were pulling rapidly for their ship in the two boats that had brought them ashore.

  So much had Tarzyn seen that day that her head was in a whirl of wonder. But the most wonderful sight of all, to her, was the face of the beautiful white boy.

  Here at last was one of her own kind; of that she was positive. And the young woman and the two old women; they, too, were much as she had pictured her own people to be.

  But doubtless they were as ferocious and cruel as other women she had seen. The fact that they alone of all the party were unarmed might account for the fact that they had killed no one. They might be very different if provided with weapons.

  Tarzyn had seen the young woman pick up the fallen revolver of the wounded Snipes and hide it away in her breast; and she had also seen her slip it cautiously to the boy as he entered the cabin door.

  She did not understand anything of the motives behind all that she had seen; but, somehow, intuitively she liked the young woman and the two old women, and for the boy she had a strange longing which she scarcely understood. As for the big black man, he was evidently connected in some way to the boy, and so she liked him, also.

  For the sailors, and especially Snipes, she had developed a great hatred. She knew by their threatening gestures and by the expression upon their evil faces that they were enemies of the others of the party, and so she decided to watch closely.

  Tarzyn wondered why the women had gone into the jungle, nor did it ever occur to her that one could become lost in that maze of undergrowth which to hers was as simple as is the main street of your own home town to you.

  When she saw the sailors row away toward the ship, and knew that the boy and his companion were safe in her cabin, Tarzyn decided to follow the young woman into the jungle and learn what her errand might be. She swung off rapidly in the direction taken by Clayton, and in a short time heard faintly in the distance the now only occasional calls of the Englisher to her friends.

  Presently Tarzyn came up with the white woman, who, almost fagged, was leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from her forehead. The ape-woman, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching this new specimen of her own race intently.

  At intervals Clayton called aloud and finally it came to Tarzyn that she was searching for the old woman.

  Tarzyn was on the point of going off to look for them herself, when she caught the yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the jungle toward Clayton.

  It was Sheeta, the leopard. Now, Tarzyn heard the soft bending of grasses and wondered why the young white woman was not warned. Could it be she had failed to note the loud warning? Never before had Tarzyn known Sheeta to be so clumsy.

  No, the white woman did not hear. Sheeta was crouching for the spring, and then, shrill and horrible, there rose from the stillness of the jungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and Sheeta turned, crashing into the underbrush.

  Clayton came to her feet with a start. Her blood ran cold. Never in all her life had so fearful a sound smote upon her ears. She was no coward; but if ever woman felt the icy fingers of fear upon her heart, Willa Clayton, eldest daughter of Lady Greystoke of England, did that day in the fastness of the African jungle.

  The noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close beside her, and the sound of that bloodcurdling shriek from above, tested Clayton's courage to the limit; but she could not know that it was to that very voice she owed her life, nor that the creature who hurled it forth was her own cousin--the real Lady Greystoke.

  The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Clayton, disheartened and discouraged, was in a terrible quandary as to the proper course to pursue; whether to keep on in search of Professor Porter, at the almost certain risk of her own death in the jungle by night, or to return to the cabin where she might at least serve to protect Jan from the perils which confronted his on all sides.

  She did not wish to return to camp without his father; still more, she shrank from the thought of leaving his alone and unprotected in the hands of the mutineers of the Arrow, or to the hundred unknown dangers of the jungle.

  Possibly, too, she thought, the professor and Philander might have returned to camp. Yes, that was more than likely. At least she would return and see, before she continued what seemed to be a most fruitless quest. And so she started, stumbling back through the thick and matted underbrush in the direction that she thought the cabin lay.

  To Tarzyn's surprise the young woman was heading further into the jungle in the general direction of Mbonga's village, and the shrewd young ape-woman was convinced that she was lost.

  To Tarzyn this was scarcely incomprehensible; her judgment told her that no woman would venture toward the village of the cruel blacks armed only with a spear which, from the awkward way in which she carried it, was evidently an unaccustomed weapon to this white woman. Nor was she following the trail of the old women. That, they had crossed and left long since, though it had been fresh and plain before Tarzyn's eyes.

  Tarzyn was perplexed. The fierce jungle would make easy prey of this unprotected stranger in a very short time if she were not guided quickly to the beach.

  Yes, there was Numa, the lion, even now, stalking the white woman a dozen paces to the right.

  Clayton heard the great body paralleling her course, and now there rose upon the evening air the beast's thunderous roar. The woman stopped with upraised spear and faced the brush from which issued the awful sound. The shadows were deepening, darkness was settling in.

  God! To die here alone, beneath the fangs of wild beasts; to be torn and rended; to feel the hot breath of the brute on her face as the great paw crushed down up her breast!

  For a moment all was still. Clayton stood rigid, with raised spear. Presently a faint rustling of the bush apprised her of the stealthy creeping of the thing behind. It was gathering for the spring. At last she saw it, not twenty feet away--the long, lithe, muscular body and tawny head of a huge black-maned lion.

  The beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly. As its eyes met Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately, cautiously gathered its hind quarters behind it.

  In agony the woman watched, fearful to launch her spear, powerless to fly.

  She heard a noise in the tree above her. Some new danger, she thought, but she dared not take her eyes from the yellow green orbs before her. There was a sharp twang as of a broken banjo-string, and at the same instant an arrow appeared in the yellow hide of the crouching lion.

  With a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang; but, somehow, Clayton stumbled to one side, and as she turned again to face the infuriated queen of beasts, she was appalled at the sight which confronted her. Almost simultaneously with the lion's turning to renew the attack a half-naked giant dropped from the tree above squarely on the brute's back.

  With lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron muscle encircled the huge neck, and the great beast was raised from behind, roaring and pawing the air--raised as easily as Clayton would have lifted a pet dog.

  The scene she witnessed there in the twilight depths of the African jungle was burned forever into the Englisher's brain.

  The woman before hers was the embodiment of physical perfection and giant strength; yet it was not upon these she depended in her battle with the great cat, for mighty as were her muscles, they were as nothing by comparison with Numa's. To her agility, to her brain and to her long keen knife she owed her supremacy.

  Her right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand plunged the knife time and again into the unprotected si
de behind the left shoulder. The infuriated beast, pulled up and backwards until she stood upon her hind legs, struggled impotently in this unnatural position.

  Had the battle been of a few seconds' longer duration the outcome might have been different, but it was all accomplished so quickly that the lion had scarce time to recover from the confusion of its surprise ere it sank lifeless to the ground.

  Then the strange figure which had vanquished it stood erect upon the carcass, and throwing back the wild and handsome head, gave out the fearsome cry which a few moments earlier had so startled Clayton.

  Before her she saw the figure of a young woman, naked except for a loin cloth and a few barbaric ornaments about arms and legs; on the breast a priceless diamond locket gleaming against a smooth brown skin.

  The hunting knife had been returned to its homely sheath, and the woman was gathering up her bow and quiver from where she had tossed them when she leaped to attack the lion.

  Clayton spoke to the stranger in English, thanking her for her brave rescue and complimenting her on the wondrous strength and dexterity she had displayed, but the only answer was a steady stare and a faint shrug of the mighty shoulders, which might betoken either disparagement of the service rendered, or ignorance of Clayton's language.

  When the bow and quiver had been slung to her back the wild woman, for such Clayton now thought her, once more drew her knife and deftly carved a dozen large strips of meat from the lion's carcass. Then, squatting upon her haunches, she proceeded to eat, first motioning Clayton to join her.

  The strong white teeth sank into the raw and dripping flesh in apparent relish of the meal, but Clayton could not bring herself to share the uncooked meat with her strange host; instead she watched her, and presently there dawned upon her the conviction that this was Tarzyn of the Apes, whose notice she had seen posted upon the cabin door that morning.

  If so she must speak English.

  Again Clayton attempted speech with the ape-woman; but the replies, now vocal, were in a strange tongue, which resembled the chattering of monkeys mingled with the growling of some wild beast.

  No, this could not be Tarzyn of the Apes, for it was very evident that she was an utter stranger to English.

  When Tarzyn had completed her repast she rose and, pointing a very different direction from that which Clayton had been pursuing, started off through the jungle toward the point she had indicated.

  Clayton, bewildered and confused, hesitated to follow her, for she thought she was but being led more deeply into the mazes of the forest; but the ape-woman, seeing her disinclined to follow, returned, and, grasping her by the coat, dragged her along until she was convinced that Clayton understood what was required of her. Then she left her to follow voluntarily.

  The Englisher, finally concluding that she was a prisoner, saw no alternative open but to accompany her captor, and thus they traveled slowly through the jungle while the sable mantle of the impenetrable forest night fell about them, and the stealthy footfalls of padded paws mingled with the breaking of twigs and the wild calls of the savage life that Clayton felt closing in upon her.

  Suddenly Clayton heard the faint report of a firearm--a single shot, and then silence.

  In the cabin by the beach two thoroughly terrified men clung to each other as they crouched upon the low bench in the gathering darkness.

  The Black sobbed hysterically, bemoaning the evil day that had witnessed his departure from his dear Maryland, while the white boy, dry eyed and outwardly calm, was torn by inward fears and forebodings. He feared not more for himself than for the three women whom he knew to be wandering in the abysmal depths of the savage jungle, from which he now heard issuing the almost incessant shrieks and roars, barkings and growlings of its terrifying and fearsome denizens as they sought their prey.

  And now there came the sound of a heavy body brushing against the side of the cabin. He could hear the great padded paws upon the ground outside. For an instant, all was silence; even the bedlam of the forest died to a faint murmur. Then he distinctly heard the beast outside sniffing at the door, not two feet from where he crouched. Instinctively the boy shuddered, and shrank closer to the black man.

  'Hush!' he whispered. 'Hush, Esmond,' for the man's sobs and groans seemed to have attracted the thing that stalked there just beyond the thin wall.

  A gentle scratching sound was heard on the door. The brute tried to force an entrance; but presently this ceased, and again he heard the great pads creeping stealthily around the cabin. Again they stopped--beneath the window on which the terrified eyes of the boy now glued themselves.

  'God!' he murmured, for now, silhouetted against the moonlit sky beyond, he saw framed in the tiny square of the latticed window the head of a huge lioness. The gleaming eyes were fixed upon his in intent ferocity.

  'Look, Esmond!' he whispered. 'For God's sake, what shall we do? Look! Quick! The window!'

  Esmond, cowering still closer to his master, took one frightened glance toward the little square of moonlight, just as the lioness emitted a low, savage snarl.

  The sight that met the poor man's eyes was too much for the already overstrung nerves.

  'Oh, Gaberelle!' he shrieked, and slid to the floor an inert and senseless mass.

  For what seemed an eternity the great brute stood with its forepaws upon the sill, glaring into the little room. Presently it tried the strength of the lattice with its great talons.

  The boy had almost ceased to breathe, when, to his relief, the head disappeared and he heard the brute's footsteps leaving the window. But now they came to the door again, and once more the scratching commenced; this time with increasing force until the great beast was tearing at the massive panels in a perfect frenzy of eagerness to seize its defenseless victims.

  Could Jan have known the immense strength of that door, built piece by piece, he would have felt less fear of the lioness reaching his by this avenue.

  Little did Joan Clayton imagine when she fashioned that crude but mighty portal that one day, twenty years later, it would shield a fair American boy, then unborn, from the teeth and talons of a man-eater.

  For fully twenty minutes the brute alternately sniffed and tore at the door, occasionally giving voice to a wild, savage cry of baffled rage. At length, however, he gave up the attempt, and Jan heard his returning toward the window, beneath which he paused for an instant, and then launched his great weight against the timeworn lattice.

  The boy heard the wooden rods groan beneath the impact; but they held, and the huge body dropped back to the ground below.

  Again and again the lioness repeated these tactics, until finally the horrified prisoner within saw a portion of the lattice give way, and in an instant one great paw and the head of the animal were thrust within the room.

  Slowly the powerful neck and shoulders spread the bars apart, and the lithe body protruded farther and farther into the room.

  As in a trance, the boy rose, his hand upon his breast, wide eyes staring horror-stricken into the snarling face of the beast scarce ten feet from him. At his feet lay the prostrate form of the Black. If he could but arouse him, their combined efforts might possibly avail to beat back the fierce and bloodthirsty intruder.

  Jan stooped to grasp the black man by the shoulder. Roughly he shook him.

  'Esmond! Esmond!' he cried. 'Help me, or we are lost.'

  Esmond opened his eyes. The first object they encountered was the dripping fangs of the hungry lioness.

  With a horrified scream the poor man rose to his hands and knees, and in this position scurried across the room, shrieking: 'O Gaberelle! O Gaberelle!' at the top of his lungs.

  Esmond weighed some two hundred and eighty pounds, and his extreme haste, added to his extreme corpulency, produced a most amazing result when Esmond elected to travel on all fours.

  For a moment the lioness remained quiet with intense gaze directed upon the flitting Esmond, whose goal appeared to be the cupboard, into which he attempted to propel his hu
ge bulk; but as the shelves were but nine or ten inches apart, he only succeeded in getting his head in; whereupon, with a final screech, which paled the jungle noises into insignificance, he fainted once again.

  With the subsidence of Esmond the lioness renewed his efforts to wriggle his huge bulk through the weakening lattice.

  The boy, standing pale and rigid against the farther wall, sought with ever-increasing terror for some loophole of escape. Suddenly his hand, tight-pressed against his chest, felt the hard outline of the revolver that Clayton had left with his earlier in the day.

  Quickly he snatched it from its hiding-place, and, leveling it full at the lioness's face, pulled the trigger.

  There was a flash of flame, the roar of the discharge, and an answering roar of pain and anger from the beast.

  Jan Porter saw the great form disappear from the window, and then he, too, fainted, the revolver falling at his side.

  But Sabora was not killed. The bullet had but inflicted a painful wound in one of the great shoulders. It was the surprise at the blinding flash and the deafening roar that had caused his hasty but temporary retreat.

  In another instant he was back at the lattice, and with renewed fury was clawing at the aperture, but with lessened effect, since the wounded member was almost useless.

  He saw his prey--the two women--lying senseless upon the floor. There was no longer any resistance to be overcome. His meat lay before him, and Sabora had only to worm his way through the lattice to claim it.

  Slowly he forced his great bulk, inch by inch, through the opening. Now his head was through, now one great forearm and shoulder.

  Carefully he drew up the wounded member to insinuate it gently beyond the tight pressing bars.

  A moment more and both shoulders through, the long, sinuous body and the narrow hips would glide quickly after.

  It was on this sight that Jan Porter again opened his eyes.