Chapter 22
As Meriem struggled with Malbihn, her hands pinioned to her sides byhis brawny grip, hope died within her. She did not utter a sound forshe knew that there was none to come to her assistance, and, too, thejungle training of her earlier life had taught her the futility ofappeals for succor in the savage world of her up-bringing.
But as she fought to free herself one hand came in contact with thebutt of Malbihn's revolver where it rested in the holster at his hip.Slowly he was dragging her toward the blankets, and slowly her fingersencircled the coveted prize and drew it from its resting place.
Then, as Malbihn stood at the edge of the disordered pile of blankets,Meriem suddenly ceased to draw away from him, and as quickly hurled herweight against him with the result that he was thrown backward, hisfeet stumbled against the bedding and he was hurled to his back.Instinctively his hands flew out to save himself and at the sameinstant Meriem leveled the revolver at his breast and pulled thetrigger.
But the hammer fell futilely upon an empty shell, and Malbihn was againupon his feet clutching at her. For a moment she eluded him, and rantoward the entrance to the tent, but at the very doorway his heavy handfell upon her shoulder and dragged her back. Wheeling upon him withthe fury of a wounded lioness Meriem grasped the long revolver by thebarrel, swung it high above her head and crashed it down full inMalbihn's face.
With an oath of pain and rage the man staggered backward, releasing hishold upon her and then sank unconscious to the ground. Without abackward look Meriem turned and fled into the open. Several of theblacks saw her and tried to intercept her flight, but the menace of theempty weapon kept them at a distance. And so she won beyond theencircling boma and disappeared into the jungle to the south.
Straight into the branches of a tree she went, true to the arborealinstincts of the little mangani she had been, and here she stripped offher riding skirt, her shoes and her stockings, for she knew that shehad before her a journey and a flight which would not brook the burdenof these garments. Her riding breeches and jacket would have to serveas protection from cold and thorns, nor would they hamper her overmuch; but a skirt and shoes were impossible among the trees.
She had not gone far before she commenced to realize how slight wereher chances for survival without means of defense or a weapon to bringdown meat. Why had she not thought to strip the cartridge belt fromMalbihn's waist before she had left his tent! With cartridges for therevolver she might hope to bag small game, and to protect herself fromall but the most ferocious of the enemies that would beset her way backto the beloved hearthstone of Bwana and My Dear.
With the thought came determination to return and obtain the covetedammunition. She realized that she was taking great chances ofrecapture; but without means of defense and of obtaining meat she feltthat she could never hope to reach safety. And so she turned her faceback toward the camp from which she had but just escaped.
She thought Malbihn dead, so terrific a blow had she dealt him, and shehoped to find an opportunity after dark to enter the camp and searchhis tent for the cartridge belt; but scarcely had she found a hidingplace in a great tree at the edge of the boma where she could watchwithout danger of being discovered, when she saw the Swede emerge fromhis tent, wiping blood from his face, and hurling a volley of oaths andquestions at his terrified followers.
Shortly after the entire camp set forth in search of her and whenMeriem was positive that all were gone she descended from her hidingplace and ran quickly across the clearing to Malbihn's tent. A hastysurvey of the interior revealed no ammunition; but in one corner was abox in which were packed the Swede's personal belongings that he hadsent along by his headman to this westerly camp.
Meriem seized the receptacle as the possible container of extraammunition. Quickly she loosed the cords that held the canvas coveringabout the box, and a moment later had raised the lid and was rummagingthrough the heterogeneous accumulation of odds and ends within. Therewere letters and papers and cuttings from old newspapers, and amongother things the photograph of a little girl upon the back of which waspasted a cutting from a Paris daily--a cutting that she could not read,yellowed and dimmed by age and handling--but something about thephotograph of the little girl which was also reproduced in thenewspaper cutting held her attention. Where had she seen that picturebefore? And then, quite suddenly, it came to her that this was apicture of herself as she had been years and years before.
Where had it been taken? How had it come into the possession of thisman? Why had it been reproduced in a newspaper? What was the storythat the faded type told of it?
Meriem was baffled by the puzzle that her search for ammunition hadrevealed. She stood gazing at the faded photograph for a time and thenbethought herself of the ammunition for which she had come. Turningagain to the box she rummaged to the bottom and there in a corner shecame upon a little box of cartridges. A single glance assured her thatthey were intended for the weapon she had thrust inside the band of herriding breeches, and slipping them into her pocket she turned once morefor an examination of the baffling likeness of herself that she held inher hand.
As she stood thus in vain endeavor to fathom this inexplicable mysterythe sound of voices broke upon her ears. Instantly she was all alert.They were coming closer! A second later she recognized the luridprofanity of the Swede. Malbihn, her persecutor, was returning!Meriem ran quickly to the opening of the tent and looked out. It wastoo late! She was fairly cornered! The white man and three of hisblack henchmen were coming straight across the clearing toward thetent. What was she to do? She slipped the photograph into her waist.Quickly she slipped a cartridge into each of the chambers of therevolver. Then she backed toward the end of the tent, keeping theentrance covered by her weapon. The man stopped outside, and Meriemcould hear Malbihn profanely issuing instructions. He was a long timeabout it, and while he talked in his bellowing, brutish voice, the girlsought some avenue of escape. Stooping, she raised the bottom of thecanvas and looked beneath and beyond. There was no one in sight uponthat side. Throwing herself upon her stomach she wormed beneath thetent wall just as Malbihn, with a final word to his men, entered thetent.
Meriem heard him cross the floor, and then she rose and, stooping low,ran to a native hut directly behind. Once inside this she turned andglanced back. There was no one in sight. She had not been seen. Andnow from Malbihn's tent she heard a great cursing. The Swede haddiscovered the rifling of his box. He was shouting to his men, and asshe heard them reply Meriem darted from the hut and ran toward the edgeof the boma furthest from Malbihn's tent. Overhanging the boma at thispoint was a tree that had been too large, in the eyes of therest-loving blacks, to cut down. So they had terminated the boma justshort of it. Meriem was thankful for whatever circumstance hadresulted in the leaving of that particular tree where it was, since itgave her the much-needed avenue of escape which she might not otherwisehave had.
From her hiding place she saw Malbihn again enter the jungle, this timeleaving a guard of three of his boys in the camp. He went toward thesouth, and after he had disappeared, Meriem skirted the outside of theenclosure and made her way to the river. Here lay the canoes that hadbeen used in bringing the party from the opposite shore. They wereunwieldy things for a lone girl to handle, but there was no other wayand she must cross the river.
The landing place was in full view of the guard at the camp. To riskthe crossing under their eyes would have meant undoubted capture. Heronly hope lay in waiting until darkness had fallen, unless somefortuitous circumstance should arise before. For an hour she laywatching the guard, one of whom seemed always in a position where hewould immediately discover her should she attempt to launch one of thecanoes.
Presently Malbihn appeared, coming out of the jungle, hot and puffing.He ran immediately to the river where the canoes lay and counted them.It was evident that it had suddenly occurred to him that the girl mustcross here if she wished to return to her protectors. The expressionof relief o
n his face when he found that none of the canoes was gonewas ample evidence of what was passing in his mind. He turned andspoke hurriedly to the head man who had followed him out of the jungleand with whom were several other blacks.
Following Malbihn's instructions they launched all the canoes but one.Malbihn called to the guards in the camp and a moment later the entireparty had entered the boats and were paddling up stream.
Meriem watched them until a bend in the river directly above the camphid them from her sight. They were gone! She was alone, and they hadleft a canoe in which lay a paddle! She could scarce believe the goodfortune that had come to her. To delay now would be suicidal to herhopes. Quickly she ran from her hiding place and dropped to theground. A dozen yards lay between her and the canoe.
Up stream, beyond the bend, Malbihn ordered his canoes in to shore. Helanded with his head man and crossed the little point slowly in searchof a spot where he might watch the canoe he had left at the landingplace. He was smiling in anticipation of the almost certain success ofhis stratagem--sooner or later the girl would come back and attempt tocross the river in one of their canoes. It might be that the ideawould not occur to her for some time. They might have to wait a day,or two days; but that she would come if she lived or was not capturedby the men he had scouting the jungle for her Malbihn was sure. Thatshe would come so soon, however, he had not guessed, and so when hetopped the point and came again within sight of the river he saw thatwhich drew an angry oath from his lips--his quarry already was half wayacross the river.
Turning, he ran rapidly back to his boats, the head man at his heels.Throwing themselves in, Malbihn urged his paddlers to their mostpowerful efforts. The canoes shot out into the stream and down withthe current toward the fleeing quarry. She had almost completed thecrossing when they came in sight of her. At the same instant she sawthem, and redoubled her efforts to reach the opposite shore before theyshould overtake her. Two minutes' start of them was all Meriem caredfor. Once in the trees she knew that she could outdistance and eludethem. Her hopes were high--they could not overtake her now--she hadhad too good a start of them.
Malbihn, urging his men onward with a stream of hideous oaths and blowsfrom his fists, realized that the girl was again slipping from hisclutches. The leading canoe, in the bow of which he stood, was yet ahundred yards behind the fleeing Meriem when she ran the point of hercraft beneath the overhanging trees on the shore of safety.
Malbihn screamed to her to halt. He seemed to have gone mad with rageat the realization that he could not overtake her, and then he threwhis rifle to his shoulder, aimed carefully at the slim figurescrambling into the trees, and fired.
Malbihn was an excellent shot. His misses at so short a distance werepractically non-existent, nor would he have missed this time but for anaccident occurring at the very instant that his finger tightened uponthe trigger--an accident to which Meriem owed her life--theprovidential presence of a water-logged tree trunk, one end of whichwas embedded in the mud of the river bottom and the other end of whichfloated just beneath the surface where the prow of Malbihn's canoe ranupon it as he fired. The slight deviation of the boat's direction wassufficient to throw the muzzle of the rifle out of aim. The bulletwhizzed harmlessly by Meriem's head and an instant later she haddisappeared into the foliage of the tree.
There was a smile on her lips as she dropped to the ground to cross alittle clearing where once had stood a native village surrounded by itsfields. The ruined huts still stood in crumbling decay. The rankvegetation of the jungle overgrew the cultivated ground. Small treesalready had sprung up in what had been the village street; butdesolation and loneliness hung like a pall above the scene. To Meriem,however, it presented but a place denuded of large trees which she mustcross quickly to regain the jungle upon the opposite side beforeMalbihn should have landed.
The deserted huts were, to her, all the better because they weredeserted--she did not see the keen eyes watching her from a dozenpoints, from tumbling doorways, from behind tottering granaries. Inutter unconsciousness of impending danger she started up the villagestreet because it offered the clearest pathway to the jungle.
A mile away toward the east, fighting his way through the jungle alongthe trail taken by Malbihn when he had brought Meriem to his camp, aman in torn khaki--filthy, haggard, unkempt--came to a sudden stop asthe report of Malbihn's rifle resounded faintly through the tangledforest. The black man just ahead of him stopped, too.
"We are almost there, Bwana," he said. There was awe and respect inhis tone and manner.
The white man nodded and motioned his ebon guide forward once more. Itwas the Hon. Morison Baynes--the fastidious--the exquisite. His faceand hands were scratched and smeared with dried blood from the woundshe had come by in thorn and thicket. His clothes were tatters. Butthrough the blood and the dirt and the rags a new Baynes shone forth--ahandsomer Baynes than the dandy and the fop of yore.
In the heart and soul of every son of woman lies the germ of manhoodand honor. Remorse for a scurvy act, and an honorable desire to rightthe wrong he had done the woman he now knew he really loved had excitedthese germs to rapid growth in Morison Baynes--and the metamorphosishad taken place.
Onward the two stumbled toward the point from which the single rifleshot had come. The black was unarmed--Baynes, fearing his loyalty hadnot dared trust him even to carry the rifle which the white man wouldhave been glad to be relieved of many times upon the long march; butnow that they were approaching their goal, and knowing as he did thathatred of Malbihn burned hot in the black man's brain, Baynes handedhim the rifle, for he guessed that there would be fighting--he intendedthat there should, for he had come to avenge. Himself, an excellentrevolver shot, would depend upon the smaller weapon at his side.
As the two forged ahead toward their goal they were startled by avolley of shots ahead of them. Then came a few scattering reports,some savage yells, and silence. Baynes was frantic in his endeavors toadvance more rapidly, but there the jungle seemed a thousand times moretangled than before. A dozen times he tripped and fell. Twice theblack followed a blind trail and they were forced to retrace theirsteps; but at last they came out into a little clearing near the bigafi--a clearing that once held a thriving village, but lay somber anddesolate in decay and ruin.
In the jungle vegetation that overgrew what had once been the mainvillage street lay the body of a black man, pierced through the heartwith a bullet, and still warm. Baynes and his companion looked aboutin all directions; but no sign of living being could they discover.They stood in silence listening intently.
What was that! Voices and the dip of paddles out upon the river?
Baynes ran across the dead village toward the fringe of jungle upon theriver's brim. The black was at his side. Together they forced theirway through the screening foliage until they could obtain a view of theriver, and there, almost to the other shore, they saw Malbihn's canoesmaking rapidly for camp. The black recognized his companionsimmediately.
"How can we cross?" asked Baynes.
The black shook his head. There was no canoe and the crocodiles madeit equivalent to suicide to enter the water in an attempt to swimacross. Just then the fellow chanced to glance downward. Beneath him,wedged among the branches of a tree, lay the canoe in which Meriem hadescaped. The Negro grasped Baynes' arm and pointed toward his find.The Hon. Morison could scarce repress a shout of exultation. Quicklythe two slid down the drooping branches into the boat. The blackseized the paddle and Baynes shoved them out from beneath the tree. Asecond later the canoe shot out upon the bosom of the river and headedtoward the opposite shore and the camp of the Swede. Baynes squattedin the bow, straining his eyes after the men pulling the other canoesupon the bank across from him. He saw Malbihn step from the bow of theforemost of the little craft. He saw him turn and glance back acrossthe river. He could see his start of surprise as his eyes fell uponthe pursuing canoe, and called the attention of his followers to it.
Then he stood waiting, for there was but one canoe and two men--littledanger to him and his followers in that. Malbihn was puzzled. Who wasthis white man? He did not recognize him though Baynes' canoe was nowin mid stream and the features of both its occupants plainlydiscernible to those on shore. One of Malbihn's blacks it was whofirst recognized his fellow black in the person of Baynes' companion.Then Malbihn guessed who the white man must be, though he could scarcebelieve his own reasoning. It seemed beyond the pale of wildestconjecture to suppose that the Hon. Morison Baynes had followed himthrough the jungle with but a single companion--and yet it was true.Beneath the dirt and dishevelment he recognized him at last, and in thenecessity of admitting that it was he, Malbihn was forced to recognizethe incentive that had driven Baynes, the weakling and coward, throughthe savage jungle upon his trail.
The man had come to demand an accounting and to avenge. It seemedincredible, and yet there could be no other explanation. Malbihnshrugged. Well, others had sought Malbihn for similar reasons in thecourse of a long and checkered career. He fingered his rifle, andwaited.
Now the canoe was within easy speaking distance of the shore.
"What do you want?" yelled Malbihn, raising his weapon threateningly.
The Hon. Morison Baynes leaped to his feet.
"You, damn you!" he shouted, whipping out his revolver and firingalmost simultaneously with the Swede.
As the two reports rang out Malbihn dropped his rifle, clutchedfrantically at his breast, staggered, fell first to his knees and thenlunged upon his face. Baynes stiffened. His head flew backspasmodically. For an instant he stood thus, and then crumpled verygently into the bottom of the boat.
The black paddler was at a loss as to what to do. If Malbihn reallywere dead he could continue on to join his fellows without fear; butshould the Swede only be wounded he would be safer upon the far shore.Therefore he hesitated, holding the canoe in mid stream. He had cometo have considerable respect for his new master and was not unmoved byhis death. As he sat gazing at the crumpled body in the bow of theboat he saw it move. Very feebly the man essayed to turn over. Hestill lived. The black moved forward and lifted him to a sittingposition. He was standing in front of him, his paddle in one hand,asking Baynes where he was hit when there was another shot from shoreand the Negro pitched head-long overboard, his paddle still clutched inhis dead fingers--shot through the forehead.
Baynes turned weakly in the direction of the shore to see Malbihn drawnup upon his elbows levelling his rifle at him. The Englishman slid tothe bottom of the canoe as a bullet whizzed above him. Malbihn, sorehit, took longer in aiming, nor was his aim as sure as formerly. Withdifficulty Baynes turned himself over on his belly and grasping hisrevolver in his right hand drew himself up until he could look over theedge of the canoe.
Malbihn saw him instantly and fired; but Baynes did not flinch or duck.With painstaking care he aimed at the target upon the shore from whichhe now was drifting with the current. His finger closed upon thetrigger--there was a flash and a report, and Malbihn's giant framejerked to the impact of another bullet.
But he was not yet dead. Again he aimed and fired, the bulletsplintering the gunwale of the canoe close by Baynes' face. Baynesfired again as his canoe drifted further down stream and Malbihnanswered from the shore where he lay in a pool of his own blood. Andthus, doggedly, the two wounded men continued to carry on their weirdduel until the winding African river had carried the Hon. MorisonBaynes out of sight around a wooded point.
The Son of Tarzan Page 22
