15
The Flight of Werper
After Werper had arranged the dummy in his bed, and sneaked out intothe darkness of the village beneath the rear wall of his tent, he hadgone directly to the hut in which Jane Clayton was held captive.
Before the doorway squatted a black sentry. Werper approached himboldly, spoke a few words in his ear, handed him a package of tobacco,and passed into the hut. The black grinned and winked as the Europeandisappeared within the darkness of the interior.
The Belgian, being one of Achmet Zek's principal lieutenants, mightnaturally go where he wished within or without the village, and so thesentry had not questioned his right to enter the hut with the white,woman prisoner.
Within, Werper called in French and in a low whisper: "Lady Greystoke!It is I, M. Frecoult. Where are you?" But there was no response.Hastily the man felt around the interior, groping blindly through thedarkness with outstretched hands. There was no one within!
Werper's astonishment surpassed words. He was on the point of steppingwithout to question the sentry, when his eyes, becoming accustomed tothe dark, discovered a blotch of lesser blackness near the base of therear wall of the hut. Examination revealed the fact that the blotch wasan opening cut in the wall. It was large enough to permit the passageof his body, and assured as he was that Lady Greystoke had passed outthrough the aperture in an attempt to escape the village, he lost notime in availing himself of the same avenue; but neither did he losetime in a fruitless search for Jane Clayton.
His own life depended upon the chance of his eluding, or outdistancingAchmet Zek, when that worthy should have discovered that he hadescaped. His original plan had contemplated connivance in the escapeof Lady Greystoke for two very good and sufficient reasons. The firstwas that by saving her he would win the gratitude of the English, andthus lessen the chance of his extradition should his identity and hiscrime against his superior officer be charged against him.
The second reason was based upon the fact that only one direction ofescape was safely open to him. He could not travel to the west becauseof the Belgian possessions which lay between him and the Atlantic. Thesouth was closed to him by the feared presence of the savage ape-man hehad robbed. To the north lay the friends and allies of Achmet Zek.Only toward the east, through British East Africa, lay reasonableassurance of freedom.
Accompanied by a titled Englishwoman whom he had rescued from afrightful fate, and his identity vouched for by her as that of aFrenchman by the name of Frecoult, he had looked forward, and notwithout reason, to the active assistance of the British from the momentthat he came in contact with their first outpost.
But now that Lady Greystoke had disappeared, though he still lookedtoward the east for hope, his chances were lessened, and another,subsidiary design completely dashed. From the moment that he had firstlaid eyes upon Jane Clayton he had nursed within his breast a secretpassion for the beautiful American wife of the English lord, and whenAchmet Zek's discovery of the jewels had necessitated flight, theBelgian had dreamed, in his planning, of a future in which he mightconvince Lady Greystoke that her husband was dead, and by playing uponher gratitude win her for himself.
At that part of the village farthest from the gates, Werper discoveredthat two or three long poles, taken from a nearby pile which had beencollected for the construction of huts, had been leaned against the topof the palisade, forming a precarious, though not impossible avenue ofescape.
Rightly, he inferred that thus had Lady Greystoke found the means toscale the wall, nor did he lose even a moment in following her lead.Once in the jungle he struck out directly eastward.
A few miles south of him, Jane Clayton lay panting among the branchesof a tree in which she had taken refuge from a prowling and hungrylioness.
Her escape from the village had been much easier than she hadanticipated. The knife which she had used to cut her way through thebrush wall of the hut to freedom she had found sticking in the wall ofher prison, doubtless left there by accident when a former tenant hadvacated the premises.
To cross the rear of the village, keeping always in the densestshadows, had required but a few moments, and the fortunate circumstanceof the discovery of the hut poles lying so near the palisade had solvedfor her the problem of the passage of the high wall.
For an hour she had followed the old game trail toward the south, untilthere fell upon her trained hearing the stealthy padding of a stalkingbeast behind her. The nearest tree gave her instant sanctuary, for shewas too wise in the ways of the jungle to chance her safety for amoment after discovering that she was being hunted.
Werper, with better success, traveled slowly onward until dawn, when,to his chagrin, he discovered a mounted Arab upon his trail. It wasone of Achmet Zek's minions, many of whom were scattered in alldirections through the forest, searching for the fugitive Belgian.
Jane Clayton's escape had not yet been discovered when Achmet Zek andhis searchers set forth to overhaul Werper. The only man who had seenthe Belgian after his departure from his tent was the black sentrybefore the doorway of Lady Greystoke's prison hut, and he had beensilenced by the discovery of the dead body of the man who had relievedhim, the sentry that Mugambi had dispatched.
The bribe taker naturally inferred that Werper had slain his fellow anddared not admit that he had permitted him to enter the hut, fearing ashe did, the anger of Achmet Zek. So, as chance directed that he shouldbe the one to discover the body of the sentry when the first alarm hadbeen given following Achmet Zek's discovery that Werper had outwittedhim, the crafty black had dragged the dead body to the interior of anearby tent, and himself resumed his station before the doorway of thehut in which he still believed the woman to be.
With the discovery of the Arab close behind him, the Belgian hid in thefoliage of a leafy bush. Here the trail ran straight for aconsiderable distance, and down the shady forest aisle, beneath theoverarching branches of the trees, rode the white-robed figure of thepursuer.
Nearer and nearer he came. Werper crouched closer to the ground behindthe leaves of his hiding place. Across the trail a vine moved.Werper's eyes instantly centered upon the spot. There was no wind tostir the foliage in the depths of the jungle. Again the vine moved.In the mind of the Belgian only the presence of a sinister andmalevolent force could account for the phenomenon.
The man's eyes bored steadily into the screen of leaves upon theopposite side of the trail. Gradually a form took shape beyond them--atawny form, grim and terrible, with yellow-green eyes glaringfearsomely across the narrow trail straight into his.
Werper could have screamed in fright, but up the trail was coming themessenger of another death, equally sure and no less terrible. Heremained silent, almost paralyzed by fear. The Arab approached. Acrossthe trail from Werper the lion crouched for the spring, when suddenlyhis attention was attracted toward the horseman.
The Belgian saw the massive head turn in the direction of the raiderand his heart all but ceased its beating as he awaited the result ofthis interruption. At a walk the horseman approached. Would thenervous animal he rode take fright at the odor of the carnivore, and,bolting, leave Werper still to the mercies of the king of beasts?
But he seemed unmindful of the near presence of the great cat. On hecame, his neck arched, champing at the bit between his teeth. TheBelgian turned his eyes again toward the lion. The beast's wholeattention now seemed riveted upon the horseman. They were abreast thelion now, and still the brute did not spring. Could he be but waitingfor them to pass before returning his attention to the original prey?Werper shuddered and half rose. At the same instant the lion sprangfrom his place of concealment, full upon the mounted man. The horse,with a shrill neigh of terror, shrank sideways almost upon the Belgian,the lion dragged the helpless Arab from his saddle, and the horseleaped back into the trail and fled away toward the west.
But he did not flee alone. As the frightened beast had pressed in uponhim, Werper had not been slow to note the quickly emptied sa
ddle andthe opportunity it presented. Scarcely had the lion dragged the Arabdown from one side, than the Belgian, seizing the pommel of the saddleand the horse's mane, leaped upon the horse's back from the other.
A half hour later a naked giant, swinging easily through the lowerbranches of the trees, paused, and with raised head, and dilatingnostrils sniffed the morning air. The smell of blood fell strong uponhis senses, and mingled with it was the scent of Numa, the lion. Thegiant cocked his head upon one side and listened.
From a short distance up the trail came the unmistakable noises of thegreedy feeding of a lion. The crunching of bones, the gulping of greatpieces, the contented growling, all attested the nearness of the kingat table.
Tarzan approached the spot, still keeping to the branches of the trees.He made no effort to conceal his approach, and presently he hadevidence that Numa had heard him, from the ominous, rumbling warningthat broke from a thicket beside the trail.
Halting upon a low branch just above the lion Tarzan looked down uponthe grisly scene. Could this unrecognizable thing be the man he hadbeen trailing? The ape-man wondered. From time to time he haddescended to the trail and verified his judgment by the evidence of hisscent that the Belgian had followed this game trail toward the east.
Now he proceeded beyond the lion and his feast, again descended andexamined the ground with his nose. There was no scent spoor here ofthe man he had been trailing. Tarzan returned to the tree. With keeneyes he searched the ground about the mutilated corpse for a sign ofthe missing pouch of pretty pebbles; but naught could he see of it.
He scolded Numa and tried to drive the great beast away; but only angrygrowls rewarded his efforts. He tore small branches from a nearby limband hurled them at his ancient enemy. Numa looked up with bared fangs,grinning hideously, but he did not rise from his kill.
Then Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow, and drawing the slim shaft farback let drive with all the force of the tough wood that only he couldbend. As the arrow sank deeply into his side, Numa leaped to his feetwith a roar of mingled rage and pain. He leaped futilely at thegrinning ape-man, tore at the protruding end of the shaft, and then,springing into the trail, paced back and forth beneath his tormentor.Again Tarzan loosed a swift bolt. This time the missile, aimed withcare, lodged in the lion's spine. The great creature halted in itstracks, and lurched awkwardly forward upon its face, paralyzed.
Tarzan dropped to the trail, ran quickly to the beast's side, and drovehis spear deep into the fierce heart, then after recovering his arrowsturned his attention to the mutilated remains of the animal's prey inthe nearby thicket.
The face was gone. The Arab garments aroused no doubt as to the man'sidentity, since he had trailed him into the Arab camp and out again,where he might easily have acquired the apparel. So sure was Tarzanthat the body was that of he who had robbed him that he made no effortto verify his deductions by scent among the conglomerate odors of thegreat carnivore and the fresh blood of the victim.
He confined his attentions to a careful search for the pouch, butnowhere upon or about the corpse was any sign of the missing article orits contents. The ape-man was disappointed--possibly not so muchbecause of the loss of the colored pebbles as with Numa for robbing himof the pleasures of revenge.
Wondering what could have become of his possessions, the ape-man turnedslowly back along the trail in the direction from which he had come.In his mind he revolved a plan to enter and search the Arab camp, afterdarkness had again fallen. Taking to the trees, he moved directlysouth in search of prey, that he might satisfy his hunger beforemidday, and then lie up for the afternoon in some spot far from thecamp, where he might sleep without fear of discovery until it came timeto prosecute his design.
Scarcely had he quitted the trail when a tall, black warrior, moving ata dogged trot, passed toward the east. It was Mugambi, searching forhis mistress. He continued along the trail, halting to examine thebody of the dead lion. An expression of puzzlement crossed hisfeatures as he bent to search for the wounds which had caused the deathof the jungle lord. Tarzan had removed his arrows, but to Mugambi theproof of death was as strong as though both the lighter missiles andthe spear still protruded from the carcass.
The black looked furtively about him. The body was still warm, andfrom this fact he reasoned that the killer was close at hand, yet nosign of living man appeared. Mugambi shook his head, and continuedalong the trail, but with redoubled caution.
All day he traveled, stopping occasionally to call aloud the singleword, "Lady," in the hope that at last she might hear and respond; butin the end his loyal devotion brought him to disaster.
From the northeast, for several months, Abdul Mourak, in command of adetachment of Abyssinian soldiers, had been assiduously searching forthe Arab raider, Achmet Zek, who, six months previously, had affrontedthe majesty of Abdul Mourak's emperor by conducting a slave raid withinthe boundaries of Menelek's domain.
And now it happened that Abdul Mourak had halted for a short rest atnoon upon this very day and along the same trail that Werper andMugambi were following toward the east.
It was shortly after the soldiers had dismounted that the Belgian,unaware of their presence, rode his tired mount almost into theirmidst, before he had discovered them. Instantly he was surrounded, anda volley of questions hurled at him, as he was pulled from his horseand led toward the presence of the commander.
Falling back upon his European nationality, Werper assured Abdul Mourakthat he was a Frenchman, hunting in Africa, and that he had beenattacked by strangers, his safari killed or scattered, and himselfescaping only by a miracle.
From a chance remark of the Abyssinian, Werper discovered the purposeof the expedition, and when he realized that these men were the enemiesof Achmet Zek, he took heart, and immediately blamed his predicamentupon the Arab.
Lest, however, he might again fall into the hands of the raider, hediscouraged Abdul Mourak in the further prosecution of his pursuit,assuring the Abyssinian that Achmet Zek commanded a large and dangerousforce, and also that he was marching rapidly toward the south.
Convinced that it would take a long time to overhaul the raider, andthat the chances of engagement made the outcome extremely questionable,Mourak, none too unwillingly, abandoned his plan and gave the necessaryorders for his command to pitch camp where they were, preparatory totaking up the return march toward Abyssinia the following morning.
It was late in the afternoon that the attention of the camp wasattracted toward the west by the sound of a powerful voice calling asingle word, repeated several times: "Lady! Lady! Lady!"
True to their instincts of precaution, a number of Abyssinians, actingunder orders from Abdul Mourak, advanced stealthily through the jungletoward the author of the call.
A half hour later they returned, dragging Mugambi among them. Thefirst person the big black's eyes fell upon as he was hustled into thepresence of the Abyssinian officer, was M. Jules Frecoult, theFrenchman who had been the guest of his master and whom he last hadseen entering the village of Achmet Zek under circumstances whichpointed to his familiarity and friendship for the raiders.
Between the disasters that had befallen his master and his master'shouse, and the Frenchman, Mugambi saw a sinister relationship, whichkept him from recalling to Werper's attention the identity which thelatter evidently failed to recognize.
Pleading that he was but a harmless hunter from a tribe farther south,Mugambi begged to be allowed to go upon his way; but Abdul Mourak,admiring the warrior's splendid physique, decided to take him back toAdis Abeba and present him to Menelek. A few moments later Mugambi andWerper were marched away under guard, and the Belgian learned for thefirst time, that he too was a prisoner rather than a guest. In vain heprotested against such treatment, until a strapping soldier struck himacross the mouth and threatened to shoot him if he did not desist.
Mugambi took the matter less to heart, for he had not the slightestdoubt but that during the course of the journey he would fi
nd ampleopportunity to elude the vigilance of his guards and make good hisescape. With this idea always uppermost in his mind, he courted thegood opinion of the Abyssinians, asked them many questions about theiremperor and their country, and evinced a growing desire to reach theirdestination, that he might enjoy all the good things which they assuredhim the city of Adis Abeba contained. Thus he disarmed theirsuspicions, and each day found a slight relaxation of theirwatchfulness over him.
By taking advantage of the fact that he and Werper always were kepttogether, Mugambi sought to learn what the other knew of thewhereabouts of Tarzan, or the authorship of the raid upon the bungalow,as well as the fate of Lady Greystoke; but as he was confined to theaccidents of conversation for this information, not daring to acquaintWerper with his true identity, and as Werper was equally anxious toconceal from the world his part in the destruction of his host's homeand happiness, Mugambi learned nothing--at least in this way.
But there came a time when he learned a very surprising thing, byaccident.
The party had camped early in the afternoon of a sultry day, upon thebanks of a clear and beautiful stream. The bottom of the river wasgravelly, there was no indication of crocodiles, those menaces topromiscuous bathing in the rivers of certain portions of the darkcontinent, and so the Abyssinians took advantage of the opportunity toperform long-deferred, and much needed, ablutions.
As Werper, who, with Mugambi, had been given permission to enter thewater, removed his clothing, the black noted the care with which heunfastened something which circled his waist, and which he took offwith his shirt, keeping the latter always around and concealing theobject of his suspicious solicitude.
It was this very carefulness which attracted the black's attention tothe thing, arousing a natural curiosity in the warrior's mind, and soit chanced that when the Belgian, in the nervousness of overcaution,fumbled the hidden article and dropped it, Mugambi saw it as it fellupon the ground, spilling a portion of its contents on the sward.
Now Mugambi had been to London with his master. He was not theunsophisticated savage that his apparel proclaimed him. He had mingledwith the cosmopolitan hordes of the greatest city in the world; he hadvisited museums and inspected shop windows; and, besides, he was ashrewd and intelligent man.
The instant that the jewels of Opar rolled, scintillating, before hisastonished eyes, he recognized them for what they were; but herecognized something else, too, that interested him far more deeplythan the value of the stones. A thousand times he had seen the leathernpouch which dangled at his master's side, when Tarzan of the Apes had,in a spirit of play and adventure, elected to return for a few hours tothe primitive manners and customs of his boyhood, and surrounded by hisnaked warriors hunt the lion and the leopard, the buffalo and theelephant after the manner he loved best.
Werper saw that Mugambi had seen the pouch and the stones. Hastily hegathered up the precious gems and returned them to their container,while Mugambi, assuming an air of indifference, strolled down to theriver for his bath.
The following morning Abdul Mourak was enraged and chagrined todiscover that his huge, black prisoner had escaped during the night,while Werper was terrified for the same reason, until his tremblingfingers discovered the pouch still in its place beneath his shirt, andwithin it the hard outlines of its contents.
Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar Page 15
