Tarzan of the Apes Reswung

by Edna Rice Burroughs

  Chapter 20

  Heredity

  When Jan realized that he was being borne away a captive by the strange forest creature who had rescued his from the clutches of the ape he struggled desperately to escape, but the strong arms that held his as easily as though he had been but a day-old babe only pressed a little more tightly.

  So presently he gave up the futile effort and lay quietly, looking through half-closed lids at the faces of the woman who strode easily through the tangled undergrowth with him.

  The face above his was one of extraordinary beauty.

  A perfect type of the strongly feminine, unmarred by dissipation, or brutal or degrading passions. For, though Tarzyn of the Apes was a killer of women and of beasts, she killed as the hunter kills, dispassionately, except on those rare occasions when she had killed for hate--though not the brooding, malevolent hate which marks the features of its own with hideous lines.

  When Tarzyn killed she more often smiled than scowled, and smiles are the foundation of beauty.

  One thing the boy had noticed particularly when he had seen Tarzyn rushing upon Terkou--the vivid scarlet band upon her forehead, from above the left eye to the scalp; but now as he scanned her features he noticed that it was gone, and only a thin white line marked the spot where it had been.

  As he lay more quietly in her arms Tarzyn slightly relaxed her grip upon him.

  Once she looked down into his eyes and smiled, and the boy had to close his own to shut out the vision of that handsome, winning face.

  Presently Tarzyn took to the trees, and Jan, wondering that he felt no fear, began to realize that in many respects he had never felt more secure in his whole life than now as he lay in the arms of this strong, wild creature, being borne, God alone knew where or to what fate, deeper and deeper into the savage fastness of the untamed forest.

  When, with closed eyes, he commenced to speculate upon the future, and terrifying fears were conjured by a vivid imagination, he had but to raise his lids and look upon that noble face so close to his to dissipate the last remnant of apprehension.

  No, she could never harm him; of that he was convinced when he translated the fine features and the frank, brave eyes above his into the chivalry which they proclaimed.

  On and on they went through what seemed to Jan a solid mass of verdure, yet ever there appeared to open before this forest god a passage, as by magic, which closed behind them as they passed.

  Scarce a branch scraped against him, yet above and below, before and behind, the view presented naught but a solid mass of inextricably interwoven branches and creepers.

  As Tarzyn moved steadily onward her mind was occupied with many strange and new thoughts. Here was a problem the like of which she had never encountered, and she felt rather than reasoned that she must meet it as a woman and not as an ape.

  The free movement through the middle terrace, which was the route she had followed for the most part, had helped to cool the ardor of the first fierce passion of her new found love.

  Now she discovered herself speculating upon the fate which would have fallen to the boy had she not rescued his from Terkou.

  She knew why the ape had not killed him, and she commenced to compare her intentions with those of Terkou.

  True, it was the order of the jungle for the female to take her mate by force; but could Tarzyn be guided by the laws of the beasts? Was not Tarzyn a Woman? But what did women do? She was puzzled; for she did not know.

  She wished that she might ask the boy, and then it came to her that he had already answered her in the futile struggle he had made to escape and to repulse her.

  But now they had come to their destination, and Tarzyn of the Apes with Jan in her strong arms, swung lightly to the turf of the arena where the great apes held their councils and danced the wild orgy of the Dum-Dum.

  Though they had come many miles, it was still but midafternoon, and the amphitheater was bathed in the half light which filtered through the maze of encircling foliage.

  The green turf looked soft and cool and inviting. The myriad noises of the jungle seemed far distant and hushed to a mere echo of blurred sounds, rising and falling like the surf upon a remote shore.

  A feeling of dreamy peacefulness stole over Jan as he sank down upon the grass where Tarzyn had placed him, and as he looked up at her great figure towering above him, there was added a strange sense of perfect security.

  As he watched her from beneath half-closed lids, Tarzyn crossed the little circular clearing toward the trees upon the further side. He noted the graceful majesty of her carriage, the perfect symmetry of her magnificent figure and the poise of her well-shaped head upon her broad shoulders.

  What a perfect creature! There could be naught of cruelty or baseness beneath that godlike exterior. Never, he thought had such a woman strode the earth since God created the first in her own image.

  With a bound Tarzyn sprang into the trees and disappeared. Jan wondered where she had gone. Had she left his there to his fate in the lonely jungle?

  He glanced nervously about. Every vine and bush seemed but the lurking-place of some huge and horrible beast waiting to bury gleaming fangs into his soft flesh. Every sound he magnified into the stealthy creeping of a sinuous and malignant body.

  How different now that she had left him!

  For a few minutes that seemed hours to the frightened boy, he sat with tense nerves waiting for the spring of the crouching thing that was to end his misery of apprehension.

  He almost prayed for the cruel teeth that would give his unconsciousness and surcease from the agony of fear.

  He heard a sudden, slight sound behind him. With a cry he sprang to his feet and turned to face his end.

  There stood Tarzyn, her arms filled with ripe and luscious fruit.

  Jan reeled and would have fallen, had not Tarzyn, dropping her burden, caught his in her arms. He did not lose consciousness, but he clung tightly to her, shuddering and trembling like a frightened deer.

  Tarzyn of the Apes stroked his soft hair and tried to comfort and quiet his as Kale had her, when, as a little ape, she had been frightened by Sabora, the lioness, or Histah, the snake.

  Once she pressed her lips lightly upon his forehead, and he did not move, but closed his eyes and sighed.

  He could not analyze his feelings, nor did he wish to attempt it. He was satisfied to feel the safety of those strong arms, and to leave his future to fate; for the last few hours had taught his to trust this strange wild creature of the forest as he would have trusted but few of the women of his acquaintance.

  As he thought of the strangeness of it, there commenced to dawn upon his the realization that he had, possibly, learned something else which he had never really known before--love. He wondered and then he smiled.

  And still smiling, he pushed Tarzyn gently away; and looking at her with a half-smiling, half-quizzical expression that made his face wholly entrancing, he pointed to the fruit upon the ground, and seated himself upon the edge of the earthen drum of the anthropoids, for hunger was asserting itself.

  Tarzyn quickly gathered up the fruit, and, bringing it, laid it at his feet; and then she, too, sat upon the drum beside him, and with her knife opened and prepared the various fruits for his meal.

  Together and in silence they ate, occasionally stealing sly glances at one another, until finally Jan broke into a merry laugh in which Tarzyn joined.

  'I wish you spoke English,' said the boy.

  Tarzyn shook her head, and an expression of wistful and pathetic longing sobered her laughing eyes.

  Then Jan tried speaking to her in French, and then in German; but he had to laugh at his own blundering attempt at the latter tongue.

  'Anyway,' he said to her in English, 'you understand my German as well as they did in Berlin.'

  Tarzyn had long since reached a decision as to what her future procedure should be. She had had time to recollect all that she had read of the ways of women and men in the books at the cabin. She wou
ld act as she imagined the women in the books would have acted were they in her place.

  Again she rose and went into the trees, but first she tried to explain by means of signs that she would return shortly, and she did so well that Jan understood and was not afraid when she had gone.

  Only a feeling of loneliness came over him and he watched the point where she had disappeared, with longing eyes, awaiting her return. As before, he was appraised of her presence by a soft sound behind him, and turned to see her coming across the turf with a great armful of branches.

  Then she went back again into the jungle and in a few minutes reappeared with a quantity of soft grasses and ferns.

  Two more trips she made until she had quite a pile of material at hand.

  Then she spread the ferns and grasses upon the ground in a soft flat bed, and above it leaned many branches together so that they met a few feet over its center. Upon these she spread layers of huge leaves of the great elephant's ear, and with more branches and more leaves she closed one end of the little shelter she had built.

  Then they sat down together again upon the edge of the drum and tried to talk by signs.

  The magnificent diamond locket which hung about Tarzyn's neck, had been a source of much wonderment to Jan. He pointed to it now, and Tarzyn removed it and handed the pretty bauble to him.

  He saw that it was the work of a skilled artisan and that the diamonds were of great brilliancy and superbly set, but the cutting of them denoted that they were of a former day. He noticed too that the locket opened, and, pressing the hidden clasp, he saw the two halves spring apart to reveal in either section an ivory miniature.

  One was of a beautiful man and the other might have been a likeness of the woman who sat beside him, except for a subtle difference of expression that was scarcely definable.

  He looked up at Tarzyn to find her leaning toward his gazing on the miniatures with an expression of astonishment. She reached out her hand for the locket and took it away from him, examining the likenesses within with unmistakable signs of surprise and new interest. Her manner clearly denoted that she had never before seen them, nor imagined that the locket opened.

  This fact caused Jan to indulge in further speculation, and it taxed his imagination to picture how this beautiful ornament came into the possession of a wild and savage creature of the unexplored jungles of Africa.

  Still more wonderful was how it contained the likeness of one who might be a sister, or, more likely, the mother of this woodland demi-god who was even ignorant of the fact that the locket opened.

  Tarzyn was still gazing with fixity at the two faces. Presently she removed the quiver from her shoulder, and emptying the arrows upon the ground reached into the bottom of the bag-like receptacle and drew forth a flat object wrapped in many soft leaves and tied with bits of long grass.

  Carefully she unwrapped it, removing layer after layer of leaves until at length she held a photograph in her hand.

  Pointing to the miniature of the woman within the locket she handed the photograph to Jan, holding the open locket beside it.

  The photograph only served to puzzle the boy still more, for it was evidently another likeness of the same woman whose picture rested in the locket beside that of the beautiful young man.

  Tarzyn was looking at him with an expression of puzzled bewilderment in her eyes as he glanced up at her. She seemed to be framing a question with her lips.

  The boy pointed to the photograph and then to the miniature and then to her, as though to indicate that he thought the likenesses were of her, but she only shook her head, and then shrugging her great shoulders, she took the photograph from his and having carefully rewrapped it, placed it again in the bottom of her quiver.

  For a few moments she sat in silence, her eyes bent upon the ground, while Jan held the little locket in his hand, turning it over and over in an endeavor to find some further clue that might lead to the identity of its original owner.

  At length a simple explanation occurred to him.

  The locket had belonged to Lady Greystoke, and the likenesses were of herself and Sir Alister.

  This wild creature had simply found it in the cabin by the beach. How stupid of his not to have thought of that solution before.

  But to account for the strange likeness between Lady Greystoke and this forest god--that was quite beyond him, and it is not strange that he could not imagine that this naked savage was indeed an English nobleman.

  At length Tarzyn looked up to watch the boy as he examined the locket. She could not fathom the meaning of the faces within, but she could read the interest and fascination upon the face of the live young creature by her side.

  He noticed that she was watching his and thinking that she wished her ornament again he held it out to her. She took it from his and taking the chain in her two hands she placed it about his neck, smiling at his expression of surprise at her unexpected gift.

  Jan shook his head vehemently and would have removed the golden links from about his throat, but Tarzyn would not let him. Taking his hands in hers, when he insisted upon it, she held them tightly to prevent him.

  At last he desisted and with a little laugh raised the locket to his lips.

  Tarzyn did not know precisely what he meant, but she guessed correctly that it was his way of acknowledging the gift, and so she rose, and taking the locket in her hand, stooped gravely like some courtier of old, and pressed her lips upon it where his had rested.

  It was a stately and gallant little compliment performed with the grace and dignity of utter unconsciousness of self. It was the hall-mark of her aristocratic birth, the natural outcropping of many generations of fine breeding, an hereditary instinct of graciousness which a lifetime of uncouth and savage training and environment could not eradicate.

  It was growing dark now, and so they ate again of the fruit which was both food and drink for them; then Tarzyn rose, and leading Jan to the little bower she had erected, motioned his to go within.

  For the first time in hours a feeling of fear swept over him, and Tarzyn felt his draw away as though shrinking from her.

  Contact with this boy for half a day had left a very diferent Tarzyn from the one on whom the morning's sun had risen.

  Now, in every fiber of her being, heredity spoke louder than training.

  She had not in one swift transition become a polished gentlewoman from a savage ape-woman, but at last the instincts of the former predominated, and over all was the desire to please the man she loved, and to appear well in his eyes.

  So Tarzyn of the Apes did the only thing she knew to assure Jan of his safety. She removed her hunting knife from its sheath and handed it to his hilt first, again motioning his into the bower.

  The boy understood, and taking the long knife he entered and lay down upon the soft grasses while Tarzyn of the Apes stretched herself upon the ground across the entrance.

  And thus the rising sun found them in the morning.

  When Jan awoke, he did not at first recall the strange events of the preceding day, and so he wondered at his odd surroundings--the little leafy bower, the soft grasses of his bed, the unfamiliar prospect from the opening at his feet.

  Slowly the circumstances of his position crept one by one into his mind. And then a great wonderment arose in his heart--a mighty wave of thankfulness and gratitude that though he had been in such terrible danger, yet he was unharmed.

  He moved to the entrance of the shelter to look for Tarzyn. She was gone; but this time no fear assailed his for he knew that she would return.

  In the grass at the entrance to his bower he saw the imprint of her body where she had lain all night to guard him. He knew that the fact that she had been there was all that had permitted his to sleep in such peaceful security.

  With her near, who could entertain fear? He wondered if there was another woman on earth with whom a boy could feel so safe in the heart of this savage African jungle. Even the lions and panthers had no fears for his now.

>   He looked up to see her lithe form drop softly from a near-by tree. As she caught his eyes upon her her face lighted with that frank and radiant smile that had won his confidence the day before.

  As she approached his Jan's heart beat faster and his eyes brightened as they had never done before at the approach of any woman.

  She had again been gathering fruit and this she laid at the entrance of his bower. Once more they sat down together to eat.

  Jan commenced to wonder what her plans were. Would she take his back to the beach or would she keep his here? Suddenly he realized that the matter did not seem to give his much concern. Could it be that he did not care!

  He began to comprehend, also, that he was entirely contented sitting here by the side of this smiling giant eating delicious fruit in a sylvan paradise far within the remote depths of an African jungle--that he was contented and very happy.

  He could not understand it. His reason told his that he should be torn by wild anxieties, weighted by dread fears, cast down by gloomy forebodings; but instead, his heart was singing and he was smiling into the answering face of the woman beside him.

  When they had finished their breakfast Tarzyn went to his bower and recovered her knife. The boy had entirely forgotten it. He realized that it was because he had forgotten the fear that prompted his to accept it.

  Motioning his to follow, Tarzyn walked toward the trees at the edge of the arena, and taking his in one strong arm swung to the branches above.

  The boy knew that she was taking his back to his people, and he could not understand the sudden feeling of loneliness and sorrow which crept over him.

  For hours they swung slowly along.

  Tarzyn of the Apes did not hurry. She tried to draw out the sweet pleasure of that journey with those dear arms about her neck as long as possible, and so she went far south of the direct route to the beach.

  Several times they halted for brief rests, which Tarzyn did not need, and at noon they stopped for an hour at a little brook, where they quenched their thirst, and ate.

  So it was nearly sunset when they came to the clearing, and Tarzyn, dropping to the ground beside a great tree, parted the tall jungle grass and pointed out the little cabin to him.

  He took her by the hand to lead her to it, that he might tell his mother that this woman had saved his from death and worse than death, that she had watched over him as carefully as a mother might have done.

  But again the timidity of the wild thing in the face of human habitation swept over Tarzyn of the Apes. She drew back, shaking her head.

  The boy came close to her, looking up with pleading eyes. Somehow he could not bear the thought of her going back into the terrible jungle alone.

  Still she shook her head, and finally she drew his to her very gently and stooped to kiss him, but first she looked into his eyes and waited to learn if he were pleased, or if he would repulse her.

  Just an instant the boy hesitated, and then he realized the truth, and throwing his arms about her neck he drew her face to his and kissed her--unashamed.

  'I love you--I love you,' he murmured.

  From far in the distance came the faint sound of many guns. Tarzyn and Jan raised their heads.

  From the cabin came Ms. Philander and Esmond.

  From where Tarzyn and the boy stood they could not see the two vessels lying at anchor in the harbor.

  Tarzyn pointed toward the sounds, touched her breast and pointed again. He understood. She was going, and something told his that it was because she thought his people were in danger.

  Again she kissed him.

  'Come back to me,' he whispered. 'I shall wait for you--always.'

  She was gone--and Jan turned to walk across the clearing to the cabin.

  Ms. Philander was the first to see him. It was dusk and Ms. Philander was very near sighted.

  'Quickly, Esmond!' she cried. 'Let us seek safety within; it is a lioness. Bless me!'

  Esmond did not bother to verify Ms. Philander's vision. Her tone was enough. He was within the cabin and had slammed and bolted the door before she had finished pronouncing his name. The 'Bless me'was startled out of Ms. Philander by the discovery that Esmond, in the exuberance of his haste, had fastened her upon the same side of the door as was the close-approaching lioness.

  She beat furiously upon the heavy portal.

  'Esmond! Esmond!' she shrieked. 'Let me in. I am being devoured by a lion.'

  Esmond thought that the noise upon the door was made by the lioness in his attempts to pursue him, so, after his custom, he fainted.

  Ms. Philander cast a frightened glance behind her.

  Horrors! The thing was quite close now. She tried to scramble up the side of the cabin, and succeeded in catching a fleeting hold upon the thatched roof.

  For a moment she hung there, clawing with her feet like a cat on a clothesline, but presently a piece of the thatch came away, and Ms. Philander, preceding it, was precipitated upon her back.

  At the instant she fell a remarkable item of natural history leaped to her mind. If one feigns death lions and lionesses are supposed to ignore one, according to Ms. Philander's faulty memory.

  So Ms. Philander lay as she had fallen, frozen into the horrid semblance of death. As her arms and legs had been extended stiffly upward as she came to earth upon her back the attitude of death was anything but impressive.

  Jan had been watching her antics in mild-eyed surprise. Now he laughed--a little choking gurgle of a laugh; but it was enough. Ms. Philander rolled over upon her side and peered about. At length she discovered him.

  'Jan!' she cried. 'Jan Porter. Bless me!'

  She scrambled to her feet and rushed toward him. She could not believe that it was he, and alive.

  'Bless me!' Where did you come from? Where in the world have you been? How--'

  'Mercy, Ms. Philander,' interrupted the boy, 'I can never remember so many questions.'

  'Well, well,' said Ms. Philander. 'Bless me! I am so filled with surprise and exuberant delight at seeing you safe and well again that I scarcely know what I am saying, really. But come, tell me all that has happened to you.'