The Pulp Fiction Megapack

by Robert Leslie Bellem

  In the meantime he relied upon Batu’s knowledge of the Bamangani tongue and his own common sense to smooth over the rough spots. As a last resort, of course, the two men had their rifles and revolvers to fall back upon.

  At last they reached the level of the plateau and paused to look around them. It was a strange and eerie sight which met their gaze. Directly ahead, five miles or so away, were the two peaks of the volcano, with the sluggish smoke spiral between them. To the rear was the jungle and the lake beyond; to the right and left, as well as straight ahead, the sun-baked plateau stretched for miles. Beyond this again were trees and still more trees; trees in an almost solid mass which near the spot where they stood extended into the plateau in a V-shaped point that almost touched the rim of the gorge.

  This plateau was a freak of nature by itself. It was sprinkled with chunks of basalt and rocks of many colors which had been deposited there by the volcano during eruptions long since ended. It was cut up and crossed by innumerable gorges and arroyos similar to that up which they had come, and in many places there were queer stinking pools of mud and water, which rumbled and spouted at intervals like miniature geysers.

  The air was permeated with a strong odor of sulphur, and the varied colors of the rocks and the soil beneath them denoted the presence of vast quantities of minerals of many kinds. Although the two men could see for several miles in nearly all directions except the rear, they saw nothing that moved except smoke and the spouting mudholes.

  While Hardin sat down on a convenient rock to fill and light his pipe, Batu moved on for a bit. All at once, the banker saw the Dyak stoop and look closely at the ground, then turn and beckon to him. Putting his pouch back into his pocket, he got up and joined his companion.

  “Look, tuan!” the Dyak burst out. “Many people pass here not long ago—Bamangani, I think. Look!” He pointed to a soft spot in the soil where the tracks of many bare feet were discernible.

  Interested at once, Hardin bent over them. “They’re headed toward the jungle,” he said after a moment. “Hunting party, I suppose. How many do you think there were, Batu?”

  “Fifty maybe,” Batu replied. “They were not hunting, tuan. There were too many for that. These tracks are very fresh; they must have been made early this morning.”

  “Well, what of it?” Hardin asked, when his face suddenly went pale. “Good heavens!” he gasped, reading the thought in the other’s eyes. “You think that—”

  “I was thinking that it might be possible, tuan,” Batu admitted quietly. “They are not headed directly that way, but they could turn after they reached the trees, and it is their nature to approach anything new and strange very cautiously. Still, there is nothing to be alarmed about. They would hardly dare to attack the Condor in broad daylight. Mrs. Hardin and Doctor Dumont have guns, and the Bamangani would be afraid to—”

  He stopped talking abruptly, and both men turned their faces in the direction of the lake; then looked back at each other horror-stricken. Faint, but perfectly distinct in the still air, sounded the reports of two gunshots fired in quick succession. It was the signal agreed upon between Hardin and his wife—there could be no doubt of it. For an instant the banker stared at his companion, then he turned and began to run back down the gorge as fast as his legs could carry him.

  CHAPTER III

  AN AUDACIOUS MOVE

  Harding did not run far, however. Eager as he was to reach the lake, he soon found that the going was too rough for running. The best either he or Batu could do was to walk rapidly, and as they walked Hardin tried hard to imagine what might have happened.

  When he left the seaplane that morning he had entertained no idea of danger. He felt that the ape-men would prove to be friendly when they met them and explained the object of their visit, and there was nothing else to fear that he knew of.

  Even if the natives regarded them as enemies, Hardin did not believe that they would dare to attack the Condor. To their ignorant, superstitious eyes the great bird-boat must seem like a visitor from the sky, and they were apt to remain in awe of it for days, even after they knew that it was inhabited by human beings.

  No; it could not be an attack by the Bamangani, he told himself; but if not, what was it? In an agony of apprehension he hurried as best he could to get to the beach to find out.

  The two men had nearly reached the bottom of the gorge, when they heard a faint hum of many voices coming from the trees below them. Instantly on the alert, Batu crouched down behind a convenient bowlder and pulled his employer to a place beside him.

  The murmur grew louder, and presently Hardin could distinguish a shrill jabber which told him that the voices came from a number of ape-men, who were all talking at once, as was their custom when aroused.

  At the end of a few minutes they came into view, a dozen of them; squat, powerful, hairy creatures, red-brown in color, with apelike limbs, and perfectly naked save for their sirats, or loin clothes. In their hands they carried spears and clubs, and as they ambled along they jabbered at each other excitedly.

  Hardin’s eyes ran over them almost unseeingly. He had eyes for no one except the man and woman—especially the woman—who walked in their midst. He could have picked that golden head out of a thousand. It was his wife, walking with her hands tied behind her back, and by her side walked her uncle, Doctor Thorold Dumont, similarly bound.

  For a little, too dumfounded at the sight even to breathe, Hardin started tensely; then he would have started up, but the Dyak caught him by the arm.

  “Wait, tuan,” he whispered; “wait a little. We must not hurry too much. Just watch a minute.”

  Hardin crouched down again obediently. He was too dazed to argue just then. In fact, he could hardly believe the evidence of his eyes; he did not see how it was possible for Irene to have become a prisoner in so short a time. He was thankful for one thing, however—she did not seem to be hurt at all.

  She was much disheveled, and her dress was torn in several places, but she walked normally, and her white face showed no signs of pain. Her uncle, too, barring a slight scratch on one cheek, was uninjured.

  About fifty feet from the bowlder which hid the two men from their sight the Bamangani halted, evidently to give their prisoners a breathing space. They were preparing to move on again, when Hardin and Batu, having exchanged a whispered word or two meanwhile, stepped out into the open.

  At their sudden appearance, the ape-men halted in their tracks as though turned to stone, each one absolutely motionless except for his eyes, which traveled over the newcomers in startled surprise. Irene uttered a little half-inarticulate cry of glad relief, and Doctor Duman took a quick step forward; then they, too, became motionless and silent.

  For perhaps a minute the silence was absolute on both sides. At length, Batu raised one hand palm outward in a token of peace.

  “What do you with the white chief and chieftainess?” he demanded in the Native tongue. “They are our friends, and we have come from far off to visit you in peace. Unloose them!”

  At this there was a murmur among the ape-men, and one who seemed to be their leader stepped forward.

  “Who are you that come to us so boldly?” he retorted. “Our prisoners must go to the long-house for judgment and you with them, O friends of theirs.”

  Batu laughed confidently. “You talk child’s talk,” he said. “With the ‘talking-sticks’ which we carry we could kill you all before you could lay hand upon us. But we do not wish to kill you. We come as friends, and in the great flying thing yonder on the lake we have many presents for your headmen. Be warned in time. Unloose your captives!”

  The ape man scowled. “We do not fear you,” he answered. “A man has been killed, and you all must stand before the Ancient One for judgment. As for the flying thing, it is ours already. If there are presents in it we shall find them.” He grunted something to his companions, who grasped their spears threateningly and drew closer around their prisoners.

  Hardin cocked his rifle with his
thumb and stepped forward. He had not understood the words of the conversation between Batu and the ape man, but from the tone employed he had little difficulty in guessing its general meaning, and he was too impatient to brook further delay.

  “Walk straight toward me, Irene,” he said, in a quiet voice. “Pay no attention to the natives. I won’t let them touch you. Come right along—both of you.”

  Without an instant’s hesitation Irene did as she was told. She knew that when her husband looked as he did at that moment he meant what he said, and if she had any fear at all it was for the ape-men rather than for herself as, with her uncle close behind her, she stepped out boldly.

  For a moment it almost looked as if the Bamangani would let them go unhindered. The very audacity of the move seemed to paralyze them for a few seconds; but it was not to be. One of the ape-men was quicker witted, or less in awe of the stranger, than his companions, and with a guttural exclamation he extended a hairy paw and grasped Irene by the shoulder. Half a second later Hardin’s rifle cracked, and the warrior was lying on his back, beating the air with his hands and feet.

  For an instant, shocked at the suddenness of the thing, the rest of the Bamangani never moved; then, with loud yells of rage and fright, they scattered and ran for cover, turning at some distance to hurl a volley of spears, which did no harm.

  Hardin laughed grimly as he cut the bonds of the captives. “Cowardly brutes,” he muttered. “I didn’t think they’d stand long in front of our guns. How did they get you, honey?”

  “I don’t know exactly, dear.” Irene threw her arms around her husband in wild relief. “We were down in the cabin when we felt the plane rock, and then the whole place was full of them. Uncle had only time to shoot twice when they overwhelmed us.”

  “We’d better hurry back,” said Hardin. “I hope they haven’t damaged the Condor.” Taking his wife by the arm, he turned down the gorge.

  “No, no,” she cried; “not that way, Tommy. The ape-men—There are dozens more of them on the beach and in the plane. We’ll walk right into them that way.”

  “The devil!” her husband exclaimed, ducking instinctively as a spear whizzed over his shoulder. “Come on, anyhow; we must get out of this. Those fellows are getting their courage back, and if they have friends close by we’ll be in for it presently. We must find shelter. What say, Batu? Which way?”

  “Get on top of gorge other side from Bamangani, tuan,” the Dyak advised. “We can hide in the jungle and reach the Condor later, maybe. All the others hear shot and come up gorge this way. Sure, Mike!”

  “Righto!” Hardin caught the idea instantly. “Up with you, dear,” giving his wife a shove toward the side of the gorge. “Go ahead, doctor; I’ll be right after you.” He turned and swept the vine-covered ridge where the ape-men were hiding with half a dozen well-placed shots before he began to scramble after his companions.

  CHAPTER IV

  IN THE JUNGLE

  With Batu leading the way and clearing the path here necessary with his long chopping knife, the four weary fugitives slowly pushed on through the jungle in the direction of the lake. They were following an ancient trail, so narrow that they were forced to walk in single file.

  Sometimes, they traveled under great branches which arched high over their heads; sometimes the branches were so low that they must stoop to pass under them; but always they wound in and out between mighty tree trunks with gnarled roots twisting up above the ground, and with a myriad of flowering creepers twining down from their lofty tops.

  The matted thickness of the foliage and the countless number of lianas shut out the sun and made a ghostly dimness that was awe-inspiring to walk through. When they spoke, which was seldom, they did so in whispers, as though afraid to break the silence which seemed to press down upon them. Long intervals elapsed in which they heard no sound except the thud and rustle of their own feet on the humid ground.

  Occasionally, troops of monkeys and flocks of bright-colored birds made the air hideous with their cries; every now and then, Irene gasped and caught her breath in horror as a great snake slid across the trail and disappeared in the matted undergrowth beyond. It was an eerie place, especially so in the eyes of the wanderers, who were constantly thinking of the bloodthirsty savages they were trying to escape, and by whom, for all they knew, they might at any moment be attacked.

  At last they reached a little clearing at the foot of a low hill and paused for a moment to enjoy the rest which they so sorely needed. Doctor Dumont, much too old for such strenuous exercise, sank down exhausted upon a moss-covered stone, breathing in hoarse gasps. Irene, sitting beside him, tried to smile bravely, but the dark circles under her pretty eyes and a pinched look around her mouth and nostrils told more plainly than words what she was suffering.

  Hardin shook his tousled head and groaned to himself. Even his iron muscles were beginning to sag under the strain, and he knew that his wife and her uncle had neither the strength nor the endurance to keep going much longer. Worn out by their recent hardships and terror, already faint from lack of food, and with the fear of the ape-men constantly on their minds, they had struggled gamely for many hours. Now, however, they were weakening fast, and without food and rest Hardin feared that they would never reach the lake, much less regain possession of the Condor.

  Nevertheless, they must hurry on. Utterly tired though they were, they had to reach some place of safety before the Bamangani attacked them in force, or they were doomed. Furious at the loss of two of their warriors, the ape-men would show no mercy; and, although he and Batu were both well armed, Hardin knew that they could not hope to resist successfully in the open. Even as it was, he could not understand why the attack had been withheld for so long.

  Forcing himself to grin cheerfully, Hardin walked over to where the old scientist and his niece were sitting.

  Irene smiled up at him bravely. “What now?” she asked. “Will they—do you think they’re following us?”

  Her husband nodded. “I suppose so,” he answered, “although it’s impossible to see anything through these trees. They’re evidently afraid of our rifles, however, and so long as they do not attack us in a body we can hold our own. I’m afraid they’re waiting for darkness. We must try to reach the shore before them. If we can do so, perhaps Batu and I can drive them out of the Condor with our rifles, and once we can get aboard again we’re perfectly safe. The beach really isn’t so very far away, you know; it’s just this awful going that makes it seem so.”

  He turned to look back over the way they had come, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the dreaded Bamangani, but he could see no sign of movement anywhere. This did not encourage him much, however. A hundred of the ape-men might be creeping upon them at that very instant and still be invisible in the dense verdure. In fact, he was very sure that they were being watched, watched as a cat watches a mouse until she is ready to make her final pounce. Already, the ape-men had delayed longer than he expected, they might strike at any moment now, and when they did—

  He was aroused by a light touch on his arm, and he turned to see Batu standing at his elbow. Of them all, the Dyak was by far the least weary. His wiry, muscular figure, trained by a lifetime of exposure, was proof against all ordinary fatigue, even the past few years of city life had not softened it, and while the others rested he had been scouting on both sides of the trail and examining the hillside beyond them.

  When his employer turned to look at him, he grinned exultantly. “Not much longer now, tuan,” he said. “There is a cave and water on the other side of this hill. We can rest there, then go to lake in night, maybe. Bamangani not move much in night. Cave very fine place to hide. Sure, Mike!”

  “A cave, eh?” Hardin exclaimed joyfully. “The very thing! You’re a wonder, Batu! I don’t know what we’d do without you. Come on, folks.” He stooped to help Doctor Dumont to his feet, and Irene sprang up almost gayly.

  A couple of minutes later they were following Batu around the base of the hill. They ha
d almost circled it, when there was a chorus of wild yells from the jungle behind them and a volley of short spears whizzed over their heads.

  Like lightning Hardin whirled about and crouched, rifle at shoulder. A dozen squat, hairy figures were jumping about just within the edge of the trees. Hardin fired four shots in quick succession, saw two of the ape-men fall and another hastily drop his club; then the rest scattered and disappeared.

  “Run for the cave! Quick!” the banker cried, over his shoulder. “I can hold them. Hurry!”

  He swept the jungle with another quick look, saw that the savages had disappeared completely, and turned to follow his companions. When he did so he groaned aloud.

  Ten paces away, Doctor Dumont was lying flat on his face with a spear sticking out of his shoulder. Irene was stooping over him, and beyond them Batu, who had been some distance in the lead, was running back. Half a dozen long strides carried Hardin to the wounded man, whom he picked up as easily as if he had been a child.

  “The cave, Irene! Run to the cave, quick!” he gasped. “I’ve got him!” She turned to run obediently, and he staggered off after her.

  CHAPTER V

  THE WARNING GIVEN

  Luckily the way was not far and Hardin’s marksmanship seemed to have momentarily demoralized the ape-men, for they gave no further evidence of their presence as the fugitives skirted the hill and plunged into a mass of vines, through which Batu led the way. Beyond the vines was an opening in the rocky hillside, so narrow that Hardin could barely get his burden through it; but beyond its mouth the cave widened, forming a lofty chamber.

  When he had placed the wounded scientist on the sandy floor Hardin sprang back to the entrance again, rifle in hand, ready to help Batu check another rush of the ape-men, but they made none. They were either badly rattled by his shooting, or, what was more likely, they were resolved to play a waiting game now that they had run their quarry to cover, for not one of them could be seen in the clearing. Satisfied that they were safe for the time being, Hardin left Batu on guard and went back to his wife.