Chapter 23
Meriem had traversed half the length of the village street when a scoreof white-robed Negroes and half-castes leaped out upon her from thedark interiors of surrounding huts. She turned to flee, but heavyhands seized her, and when she turned at last to plead with them hereyes fell upon the face of a tall, grim, old man glaring down upon herfrom beneath the folds of his burnous.
At sight of him she staggered back in shocked and terrified surprise.It was The Sheik!
Instantly all the old fears and terrors of her childhood returned uponher. She stood trembling before this horrible old man, as a murdererbefore the judge about to pass sentence of death upon him. She knewthat The Sheik recognized her. The years and the changed raiment hadnot altered her so much but what one who had known her features so wellin childhood would know her now.
"So you have come back to your people, eh?" snarled The Sheik. "Comeback begging for food and protection, eh?"
"Let me go," cried the girl. "I ask nothing of you, but that you letme go back to the Big Bwana."
"The Big Bwana?" almost screamed The Sheik, and then followed a streamof profane, Arabic invective against the white man whom all thetransgressors of the jungle feared and hated. "You would go back tothe Big Bwana, would you? So that is where you have been since you ranaway from me, is it? And who comes now across the river after you--theBig Bwana?"
"The Swede whom you once chased away from your country when he and hiscompanion conspired with Nbeeda to steal me from you," replied Meriem.
The Sheik's eyes blazed, and he called his men to approach the shoreand hide among the bushes that they might ambush and annihilate Malbihnand his party; but Malbihn already had landed and crawling through thefringe of jungle was at that very moment looking with wide andincredulous eyes upon the scene being enacted in the street of thedeserted village. He recognized The Sheik the moment his eyes fellupon him. There were two men in the world that Malbihn feared as hefeared the devil. One was the Big Bwana and the other The Sheik. Asingle glance he took at that gaunt, familiar figure and then he turnedtail and scurried back to his canoe calling his followers after him.And so it happened that the party was well out in the stream before TheSheik reached the shore, and after a volley and a few parting shotsthat were returned from the canoes the Arab called his men off andsecuring his prisoner set off toward the South.
One of the bullets from Malbihn's force had struck a black standing inthe village street where he had been left with another to guard Meriem,and his companions had left him where he had fallen, afterappropriating his apparel and belongings. His was the body that Bayneshad discovered when he had entered the village.
The Sheik and his party had been marching southward along the riverwhen one of them, dropping out of line to fetch water, had seen Meriempaddling desperately from the opposite shore. The fellow had calledThe Sheik's attention to the strange sight--a white woman alone inCentral Africa and the old Arab had hidden his men in the desertedvillage to capture her when she landed, for thoughts of ransom werealways in the mind of The Sheik. More than once before had glitteringgold filtered through his fingers from a similar source. It was easymoney and The Sheik had none too much easy money since the Big Bwanahad so circumscribed the limits of his ancient domain that he dared noteven steal ivory from natives within two hundred miles of the BigBwana's douar. And when at last the woman had walked into the trap hehad set for her and he had recognized her as the same little girl hehad brutalized and mal-treated years before his gratification had beenhuge. Now he lost no time in establishing the old relations of fatherand daughter that had existed between them in the past. At the firstopportunity he struck her a heavy blow across the face. He forced herto walk when he might have dismounted one of his men instead, or hadher carried on a horse's rump. He seemed to revel in the discovery ofnew methods for torturing or humiliating her, and among all hisfollowers she found no single one to offer her sympathy, or who dareddefend her, even had they had the desire to do so.
A two days' march brought them at last to the familiar scenes of herchildhood, and the first face upon which she set her eyes as she wasdriven through the gates into the strong stockade was that of thetoothless, hideous Mabunu, her one time nurse. It was as though allthe years that had intervened were but a dream. Had it not been forher clothing and the fact that she had grown in stature she might wellhave believed it so. All was there as she had left it--the new faceswhich supplanted some of the old were of the same bestial, degradedtype. There were a few young Arabs who had joined The Sheik since shehad been away. Otherwise all was the same--all but one. Geeka was notthere, and she found herself missing Geeka as though the ivory-headedone had been a flesh and blood intimate and friend. She missed herragged little confidante, into whose deaf ears she had been wont topour her many miseries and her occasional joys--Geeka, of the splinterlimbs and the ratskin torso--Geeka the disreputable--Geeka the beloved.
For a time the inhabitants of The Sheik's village who had not been uponthe march with him amused themselves by inspecting the strangely cladwhite girl, whom some of them had known as a little child. Mabunupretended great joy at her return, baring her toothless gums in ahideous grimace that was intended to be indicative of rejoicing. ButMeriem could but shudder as she recalled the cruelties of this terribleold hag in the years gone by.
Among the Arabs who had come in her absence was a tall young fellow oftwenty--a handsome, sinister looking youth--who stared at her in openadmiration until The Sheik came and ordered him away, and Abdul Kamakwent, scowling.
At last, their curiosity satisfied, Meriem was alone. As of old, shewas permitted the freedom of the village, for the stockade was high andstrong and the only gates were well-guarded by day and by night; but asof old she cared not for the companionship of the cruel Arabs and thedegraded blacks who formed the following of The Sheik, and so, as hadbeen her wont in the sad days of her childhood, she slunk down to anunfrequented corner of the enclosure where she had often played athouse-keeping with her beloved Geeka beneath the spreading branches ofthe great tree that had overhung the palisade; but now the tree wasgone, and Meriem guessed the reason. It was from this tree that Korakhad descended and struck down The Sheik the day that he had rescued herfrom the life of misery and torture that had been her lot for so longthat she could remember no other.
There were low bushes growing within the stockade, however, and in theshade of these Meriem sat down to think. A little glow of happinesswarmed her heart as she recalled her first meeting with Korak and thenthe long years that he had cared for and protected her with thesolicitude and purity of an elder brother. For months Korak had not sooccupied her thoughts as he did today. He seemed closer and dearer nowthan ever he had before, and she wondered that her heart had drifted sofar from loyalty to his memory. And then came the image of the Hon.Morison, the exquisite, and Meriem was troubled. Did she really lovethe flawless young Englishman? She thought of the glories of London,of which he had told her in such glowing language. She tried topicture herself admired and honored in the midst of the gayest societyof the great capital. The pictures she drew were the pictures that theHon. Morison had drawn for her. They were alluring pictures, butthrough them all the brawny, half-naked figure of the giant Adonis ofthe jungle persisted in obtruding itself.
Meriem pressed her hand above her heart as she stifled a sigh, and asshe did so she felt the hard outlines of the photograph she had hiddenthere as she slunk from Malbihn's tent. Now she drew it forth andcommenced to re-examine it more carefully than she had had time to dobefore. She was sure that the baby face was hers. She studied everydetail of the picture. Half hidden in the lace of the dainty dressrested a chain and locket. Meriem puckered her brows. Whattantalizing half-memories it awakened! Could this flower of evidentcivilization be the little Arab Meriem, daughter of The Sheik? It wasimpossible, and yet that locket? Meriem knew it. She could not refutethe conviction of her memory. She had seen that locket before and i
thad been hers. What strange mystery lay buried in her past?
As she sat gazing at the picture she suddenly became aware that she wasnot alone--that someone was standing close behind her--some one who hadapproached her noiselessly. Guiltily she thrust the picture back intoher waist. A hand fell upon her shoulder. She was sure that it wasThe Sheik and she awaited in dumb terror the blow that she knew wouldfollow.
No blow came and she looked upward over her shoulder--into the eyes ofAbdul Kamak, the young Arab.
"I saw," he said, "the picture that you have just hidden. It is youwhen you were a child--a very young child. May I see it again?"
Meriem drew away from him.
"I will give it back," he said. "I have heard of you and I know thatyou have no love for The Sheik, your father. Neither have I. I willnot betray you. Let me see the picture."
Friendless among cruel enemies, Meriem clutched at the straw that AbdulKamak held out to her. Perhaps in him she might find the friend sheneeded. Anyway he had seen the picture and if he was not a friend hecould tell The Sheik about it and it would be taken away from her. Soshe might as well grant his request and hope that he had spoken fairly,and would deal fairly. She drew the photograph from its hiding placeand handed it to him.
Abdul Kamak examined it carefully, comparing it, feature by featurewith the girl sitting on the ground looking up into his face. Slowlyhe nodded his head.
"Yes," he said, "it is you, but where was it taken? How does it happenthat The Sheik's daughter is clothed in the garments of the unbeliever?"
"I do not know," replied Meriem. "I never saw the picture until acouple of days ago, when I found it in the tent of the Swede, Malbihn."
Abdul Kamak raised his eyebrows. He turned the picture over and as hiseyes fell upon the old newspaper cutting they went wide. He could readFrench, with difficulty, it is true; but he could read it. He had beento Paris. He had spent six months there with a troupe of his desertfellows, upon exhibition, and he had improved his time, learning manyof the customs, some of the language, and most of the vices of hisconquerors. Now he put his learning to use. Slowly, laboriously heread the yellowed cutting. His eyes were no longer wide. Instead theynarrowed to two slits of cunning. When he had done he looked at thegirl.
"You have read this?" he asked.
"It is French," she replied, "and I do not read French."
Abdul Kamak stood long in silence looking at the girl. She was verybeautiful. He desired her, as had many other men who had seen her. Atlast he dropped to one knee beside her.
A wonderful idea had sprung to Abdul Kamak's mind. It was an idea thatmight be furthered if the girl were kept in ignorance of the contentsof that newspaper cutting. It would certainly be doomed should shelearn its contents.
"Meriem," he whispered, "never until today have my eyes beheld you, yetat once they told my heart that it must ever be your servant. You donot know me, but I ask that you trust me. I can help you. You hateThe Sheik--so do I. Let me take you away from him. Come with me, andwe will go back to the great desert where my father is a sheik mightierthan is yours. Will you come?"
Meriem sat in silence. She hated to wound the only one who had offeredher protection and friendship; but she did not want Abdul Kamak's love.Deceived by her silence the man seized her and strained her to him; butMeriem struggled to free herself.
"I do not love you," she cried. "Oh, please do not make me hate you.You are the only one who has shown kindness toward me, and I want tolike you, but I cannot love you."
Abdul Kamak drew himself to his full height.
"You will learn to love me," he said, "for I shall take you whether youwill or no. You hate The Sheik and so you will not tell him, for ifyou do I will tell him of the picture. I hate The Sheik, and--"
"You hate The Sheik?" came a grim voice from behind them.
Both turned to see The Sheik standing a few paces from them. Abdulstill held the picture in his hand. Now he thrust it within hisburnous.
"Yes," he said, "I hate the Sheik," and as he spoke he sprang towardthe older man, felled him with a blow and dashed on across the villageto the line where his horse was picketed, saddled and ready, for AbdulKamak had been about to ride forth to hunt when he had seen thestranger girl alone by the bushes.
Leaping into the saddle Abdul Kamak dashed for the village gates. TheSheik, momentarily stunned by the blow that had felled him, nowstaggered to his feet, shouting lustily to his followers to stop theescaped Arab. A dozen blacks leaped forward to intercept the horseman,only to be ridden down or brushed aside by the muzzle of Abdul Kamak'slong musket, which he lashed from side to side about him as he spurredon toward the gate. But here he must surely be intercepted. Alreadythe two blacks stationed there were pushing the unwieldy portals to.Up flew the barrel of the fugitive's weapon. With reins flying looseand his horse at a mad gallop the son of the desert fired once--twice;and both the keepers of the gate dropped in their tracks. With a wildwhoop of exultation, twirling his musket high above his head andturning in his saddle to laugh back into the faces of his pursuersAbdul Kamak dashed out of the village of The Sheik and was swallowed upby the jungle.
Foaming with rage The Sheik ordered immediate pursuit, and then stroderapidly back to where Meriem sat huddled by the bushes where he hadleft her.
"The picture!" he cried. "What picture did the dog speak of? Where isit? Give it to me at once!"
"He took it," replied Meriem, dully.
"What was it?" again demanded The Sheik, seizing the girl roughly bythe hair and dragging her to her feet, where he shook her venomously."What was it a picture of?"
"Of me," said Meriem, "when I was a little girl. I stole it fromMalbihn, the Swede--it had printing on the back cut from an oldnewspaper."
The Sheik went white with rage.
"What said the printing?" he asked in a voice so low that she butbarely caught his words.
"I do not know. It was in French and I cannot read French."
The Sheik seemed relieved. He almost smiled, nor did he again strikeMeriem before he turned and strode away with the parting admonitionthat she speak never again to any other than Mabunu and himself. Andalong the caravan trail galloped Abdul Kamak toward the north.
As his canoe drifted out of sight and range of the wounded Swede theHon. Morison sank weakly to its bottom where he lay for long hours inpartial stupor.
It was night before he fully regained consciousness. And then he layfor a long time looking up at the stars and trying to recollect wherehe was, what accounted for the gently rocking motion of the thing uponwhich he lay, and why the position of the stars changed so rapidly andmiraculously. For a while he thought he was dreaming, but when hewould have moved to shake sleep from him the pain of his wound recalledto him the events that had led up to his present position. Then it wasthat he realized that he was floating down a great African river in anative canoe--alone, wounded, and lost.
Painfully he dragged himself to a sitting position. He noticed thatthe wound pained him less than he had imagined it would. He felt of itgingerly--it had ceased to bleed. Possibly it was but a flesh woundafter all, and nothing serious. If it totally incapacitated him evenfor a few days it would mean death, for by that time he would be tooweakened by hunger and pain to provide food for himself.
From his own troubles his mind turned to Meriem's. That she had beenwith the Swede at the time he had attempted to reach the fellow's camphe naturally believed; but he wondered what would become of her now.Even if Hanson died of his wounds would Meriem be any better off? Shewas in the power of equally villainous men--brutal savages of thelowest order. Baynes buried his face in his hands and rocked back andforth as the hideous picture of her fate burned itself into hisconsciousness. And it was he who had brought this fate upon her! Hiswicked desire had snatched a pure and innocent girl from the protectionof those who loved her to hurl her into the clutches of the bestialSwede and his outcast following! And not until it had bec
ome too latehad he realized the magnitude of the crime he himself had planned andcontemplated. Not until it had become too late had he realized thatgreater than his desire, greater than his lust, greater than anypassion he had ever felt before was the newborn love that burned withinhis breast for the girl he would have ruined.
The Hon. Morison Baynes did not fully realize the change that had takenplace within him. Had one suggested that he ever had been aught thanthe soul of honor and chivalry he would have taken umbrage forthwith.He knew that he had done a vile thing when he had plotted to carryMeriem away to London, yet he excused it on the ground of his greatpassion for the girl having temporarily warped his moral standards bythe intensity of its heat. But, as a matter of fact, a new Baynes hadbeen born. Never again could this man be bent to dishonor by theintensity of a desire. His moral fiber had been strengthened by themental suffering he had endured. His mind and his soul had been purgedby sorrow and remorse.
His one thought now was to atone--win to Meriem's side and lay down hislife, if necessary, in her protection. His eyes sought the length ofthe canoe in search of the paddle, for a determination had galvanizedhim to immediate action despite his weakness and his wound. But thepaddle was gone. He turned his eyes toward the shore. Dimly throughthe darkness of a moonless night he saw the awful blackness of thejungle, yet it touched no responsive chord of terror within him now asit had done in the past. He did not even wonder that he was unafraid,for his mind was entirely occupied with thoughts of another's danger.
Drawing himself to his knees he leaned over the edge of the canoe andcommenced to paddle vigorously with his open palm. Though it tired andhurt him he kept assiduously at his self imposed labor for hours.Little by little the drifting canoe moved nearer and nearer the shore.The Hon. Morison could hear a lion roaring directly opposite him and soclose that he felt he must be almost to the shore. He drew his riflecloser to his side; but he did not cease to paddle.
After what seemed to the tired man an eternity of time he felt thebrush of branches against the canoe and heard the swirl of the waterabout them. A moment later he reached out and clutched a leafy limb.Again the lion roared--very near it seemed now, and Baynes wondered ifthe brute could have been following along the shore waiting for him toland.
He tested the strength of the limb to which he clung. It seemed strongenough to support a dozen men. Then he reached down and lifted hisrifle from the bottom of the canoe, slipping the sling over hisshoulder. Again he tested the branch, and then reaching upward as faras he could for a safe hold he drew himself painfully and slowly upwarduntil his feet swung clear of the canoe, which, released, floatedsilently from beneath him to be lost forever in the blackness of thedark shadows down stream.
He had burned his bridges behind him. He must either climb aloft ordrop back into the river; but there had been no other way. Hestruggled to raise one leg over the limb, but found himself scarceequal to the effort, for he was very weak. For a time he hung therefeeling his strength ebbing. He knew that he must gain the branchabove at once or it would be too late.
Suddenly the lion roared almost in his ear. Baynes glanced up. He sawtwo spots of flame a short distance from and above him. The lion wasstanding on the bank of the river glaring at him, and--waiting for him.Well, thought the Hon. Morison, let him wait. Lions can't climb trees,and if I get into this one I shall be safe enough from him.
The young Englishman's feet hung almost to the surface of thewater--closer than he knew, for all was pitch dark below as above him.Presently he heard a slight commotion in the river beneath him andsomething banged against one of his feet, followed almost instantly bya sound that he felt he could not have mistaken--the click of greatjaws snapping together.
"By George!" exclaimed the Hon. Morison, aloud. "The beggar nearly gotme," and immediately he struggled again to climb higher and tocomparative safety; but with that final effort he knew that it wasfutile. Hope that had survived persistently until now began to wane.He felt his tired, numbed fingers slipping from their hold--he wasdropping back into the river--into the jaws of the frightful death thatawaited him there.
And then he heard the leaves above him rustle to the movement of acreature among them. The branch to which he clung bent beneath anadded weight--and no light weight, from the way it sagged; but stillBaynes clung desperately--he would not give up voluntarily either tothe death above or the death below.
He felt a soft, warm pad upon the fingers of one of his hands wherethey circled the branch to which he clung, and then something reacheddown out of the blackness above and dragged him up among the branchesof the tree.
The Son of Tarzan Page 23
