by Lee Falk
Kit's father-to-be-the Twentieth-waited there for his lady. He waited impatiently and anxiously, for he had not seen his loved one for a year. Back in the Deep Woods, great preparations for the wedding were under way, and all the chiefs and leaders of the jungle would attend. The drums had been beating out the news for weeks: The Phantom will take a bride, and there would be week-long celebrations in all the tribal villages for those who did not attend the wedding. Astride Thunder, on a hilltop overlooking the bay, he had seen the ship anchor far below. Now he waited at the arranged meeting place, and became more impatient as the hours passed. His impatience gave way to dismay.
Maybe she had changed her mind and was not coming. What else could it be? Finally night came. He had waited since dawn. Unhappy and disappointed beyond belief, he started back to the Deep Woods.
He rode back to the hilltop and saw that the big ocean liner had departed. Had she gone with it, or had she not come at all?
But news travels fast in the jungle and he hadn't gotten far when the tom-toms began to beat. There had been an ambush at the edge of the jungle. Two Jungle Patrolmen had been badly wounded, and the lady with them had been carried off. No one knew by whom.
His disappointment turned to fury. He raced back to the main road and climbed the first telephone pole he found. It was now past midnight. Using lineman's equipment he always carried, he cut into the line and woke up the colonel of the patrol, a young officer named Weeks.
Weeks was startled by the deep angry voice of his unknown commander. He told all he knew about the ambush. Both patrolmen were in critical condition. One had been able to say only that the attackers were strangers from a foreign place, that their faces had been covered with scarves and that they had attacked with scimitars. As far as they knew, the lady had not been harmed. There were no clues.
The Phantom was beside himself with fear for the missing girl. He roared through the countryside on Thunder, stopping at every hut, demanding of every farmer and herdsman if they had seen any signs of the abductors. No one had seen anything. It was as though the earth had swallowed them up.
Wretched and tormented, he returned to the Deep Woods. All the jungle knew of the tragic happening. The celebration was canceled. In the Deep Woods, the pygmies watched their big friend unhappily as he brooded day after day in his cave. He could not be consoled. What was there to say?
Where was she?
The Misty Mountains lie to the east of the jungle. Here is the domain of the mountain princes, a rich feudal aristocracy whose minds and hearts were in the fifteenth century. In these modern times, they lived as absolute rulers in their tiny kingdoms with the power of life and death over their subjects.
They were a law unto themselves and usually intermarried. Only on occasion did they bring in a bride from the unpleasant outer world. One who tried to do this was Prince Hakon.
Hakon was the richest and most tyrannical of the mountain lords, he of the hawk like face and cold eyes like a serpent. It was Hakon who had fallen in love at first sight with the beautiful blonde girl on the boat, had pursued her, and vowed never to lose her. His men had ambushed the patrolmen and borne her off in a waiting plane. Despite his liking for feudal customs, Hakon enjoyed modern comforts as well.
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The girl was brought before him, in the cold thin air of his mountain palace. It was only then that her silk blind-fold was removed. The poor girl had been terrified by the ambush and the subsequent rough flight, and her heart sank when she saw Hakon.
"I have not brought you here to harm you but to honor you by making you my princess," he said. His voice was warm but his touch was as cold as his pale eyes as he took her hand. She pulled away angrily and threatened him with the law. This amused Hakon who was the law, in this land.
"I will give you time to adjust to this place, and to me," he said confidently, as if that settled the matter. She was borne off by several husky guards, shouting and fighting in a most unladylike manner, for she was not one to weep and faint. Like a princess in a storybook, she was locked in a high tower, and when the sun rose over the mountains she could see the distant jungle, and she knew her love was there.
Day after day, Hakon came to see her, and day after day, she refused him, telling him each time that she loved another man. After a time this angered him, and he said she was lying, that there was no other man, that she could love no other man once she had seen Hakon. Despite her predicament, she laughed at that, which infuriated the arrogant mountain prince. He demanded to know who her love was, and she told him, proudly and happily. The name she used was merely . . . Phantom.
This caused Hakon to consider. As had all the mountain lords, he had heard of the Phantom all of his life, but had assumed he was not a real man but a jungle superstition. Could there be such a person?
He would find out. He was anxious to know the truth. If such a person existed, he wanted to bring him to the palace where he could deal with him.
How could he find the man? He asked the girl.
"You don't find him. He finds you," she replied, delighted to speak of her love. He saw the pride in her voice and was determined to find this man wherever he was, and destroy that love. Through his emissaries, he sent word to the tribes that the missing girl of the ambush was a guest in his castle and would soon be his bride. It was his hope that the news would somehow reach her mysterious lover. It did reach him, in the Deep Woods. With a roar he leaped upon Thunder and raced through the waterfall, headed for the Misty Mountains and the palace of Prince Hakon. His bride indeed!
(At this point, Guran stopped his tale. "Have you heard enough, or do you want to move on?" he said slyly. "No," shouted Kit, fascinated with this story about his parents, "Go on ... when does the chain come in?" "Soon," said Guran as he continued.) The Twentieth knew Hakon by hearsay, a cruel tyrant by all accounts. The word he had received infuriated him, and puzzled him as well. A guest at the castle . .. about to be his bride? Could she be there of her own free will? Had she fallen in love with her captor? Or had the ambush been prearranged by both of them on the boat? For he learned Hakon had been a passenger, and these questions plagued him as he raced up the Misty Mountain trail on Thunder's powerful back.
The palace gates were open when he reached them He did not stop, but rode past the guards, up the broad steps, in through the large open doors. Then across the marble foyer, and up the wide curving marble staircase into the great throne room where Hakon waited on a small golden throne, He was startled by the sight of this big masked man on the huge black stallion, prancing on his parquet floors.
The Twentieth had his pistol in hand. And he fired into the glittering crystal chandelier above.
"Where is she?" he roared. In his anger, he had thrown all caution to the winds.
"Up there," said Hakon pointing to the ceiling, and snapping his fingers at the same time. At this signal, guards from both sides fired. Several bullets struck the masked man and he felt off Thunder
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onto the polished floor.
He lay in a small cell for a month while his wounds healed. The guards had been careful not to kill him, and a doctor cared for him. Hakon didn't want him to die. He had other plans for this lady's masked lover.
When he was well again, he was brought into the courtyard. There was a millstone there, used to grind grain. Two oxen were attached to a long shaft and moved about in a circle, thus turning the heavy millstone and grinding the grain. The oxen were taken away, and the Twentieth was chained in their place. "Move," commanded a guard, flicking a whip at him. He stood still, staring up at the tower. In the high barred window, he saw her for the first time. And she saw him, and cried to him.
He struggled with his chains, but they held. He was helpless. The guard flicked the whip again, striking him across the shoulders. He refused to move.
Hakon was watching from a balcony.
"No food or water, until he works," he called, and went back into the palace.
>
For several days, the masked man refused to work, hut soon thirst, then hunger, forced him to work.
Round and round he went, pushing the heavy creaking millstone. The girl watched from the tower.
Her tears could not help him, but they did not help Hakon either. He had thought the humiliation of her lover would end her love for him. Such is the thinking of a man like Hakon. It only hardened her further against Hakon, if that were possible.
Now the days turned into weeks. From dawn to dusk, he laboriously pushed the heavy millstone. If he faltered, he was whipped. At night, a dozen guards took him-still chained-a gun at his head, from the millstone to the cell where he slept on the rocky floor. At dawn, back to the millstone. Now the people of the town came up to mock the captive. These mountain people had heard tales of the ancient jungle legend called Phantom, and now they laughed at him, and threw rocks and filth at him.
He endured it silently. And Hakon, still rejected and frustrated, enjoyed every moment of it, News got down to the lowlands and into the jungle. The Phantom was Hakon's captive, and worked as a beast of burden! All the tribes got this news, including the Bandar, and the pygmy poison people resolved to go to the aid of their friend. Word of this came to him as he worked at the millstone. A Wambesi warrior had braved these heights to bring him hope and encouragement that help was on its way. But the Twentieth sent back an order with the warrior, forbidding the Bandar to come. He knew that even with their poison arrows, the little people would be slaughtered by the guns of Hakon if they attempted to scale this peak. And so he persisted, and the guards and the people mocked him and tormented him; Hakon laughed, and the girl wept. But he persisted.
(By this time, young Kit was listening with tears in his eyes, his face flushed, fists clenched. "How awful," he moaned. "How awful. Oh, what did he do?" Guran went on with his story.) He persisted. He had noticed something that no one else saw. Each time he made the slow and laborious circuit, pushing the shaft that turned the heavy millstone, a link of his chain scraped on the stone ledge. Each turn, the stone cut ever so slightly into the heavy link. It was hard, back-breaking work, for he was doing the work of two oxen. But he didn't weaken. He did not answer the taunts of the crowd. He ignored the whips of the guards. Sometimes, Hakon would bring his dinner guests to watch the jungle beast at work. The princes from the neighboring peaks were delighted with this unusual and singular entertainment, and congratulated their host on his originality. And as though he had become a dumb beast, he continued to work, round and round, and each time the link was worn a bit thinner.
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Months passed, almost a year of this torment. The girl in the tower had lost all track of time. Several times, she had refused to eat, going on a hunger strike to protest this cruel treatment of her lover.
Word of this had reached the "dumb beast" below, and he sent back word to the tower, asking her to eat, to keep up her strength and her health. And round and round he went, using all his mighty strength to push the terrible weight.
Then one day, it happened. Hakon was nearby with a small party of lords and ladies. They had just come in from a hunt, and were examining the "jungle beast" at work before having their lunch. The guards stood at attention in the background. It happened faster than anyone could see, for the link was now worn almost entirely through. One moment, the "jungle beast" was at work, then he raised up, tearing the long shaft from the chain, and swinging chain and shaft as he moved. The fearful weapon mowed down a dozen guests like bowling pins, among them Hakon. But the "beast" was upon him, his powerful hands around Hakon's elegant throat. The cold serpent eyes popped.
"Tell your men to drop their guns. Bring her down here at once," the masked man commanded.
Hakon croaked out the order. By this time, his own gun was at his head. The girl-scarcely believing what was happening-was brought to the masked man. Without stopping to greet her, he told her to mount one of the hunting party's horses at the side. Then he commanded that his stallion Thunder be brought to him. Hakon was cursing furiously flow, until a sharp cuff on his ears stopped him.
Thunder was brought out, rearing and prancing until he saw his master.
The Twentieth mounted him, raising Hakon along with him, in front of the saddle. Hakon's gun was still pressed against the back of his own head, and the prince's lace was a ghastly white.
"Stop him," he screeched like a wounded bird.
"If anyone moves, you are a dead man. You understand?"
Hakon understood, as did all the watching court.
At the masked man's order, a guard brought him the broken chain. It was the guard who had whipped him unmercifully for months. The masked man swung the chain, and the guard fell to the ground.
Then the two horses sped out of the courtyard, down the mountain slope, bearing the girl, the prince, and the Phantom of the jungle. And the dazed court stared at the broken shaft and remaining chains and their bewilderment grew. How could any man, however strong, break that heavy chain? Had this indeed been the immortal man about whom their jungle-bred nurses had sung to them since infancy?
Word had raced ahead of their return. The air throbbed with the heat of tom-toms and the jungle roared its welcome. There was an enormous wedding. All the chiefs and leaders came to the Deep Woods. And the celebrations were held in each village for those who could not attend. Twenty chiefs escorted Prince Hakon to the headquarters of the Jungle Patrol in Mawitaan. And the zealous patrolmen saw to it that the man who had so cruelly ambushed two of their members was brought to a speedy trial, And all his wealth and alt the power and pressure of the mountain princes could not reduce his thirty-year jail term. Later on the prince was killed by a fellow prisoner in a sordid brawl.
The Twentieth never forgot his chain. From the day of the wedding on, it hung from the edge of his Skull Throne.
"For me," he once explained "it represents patience, the will to persist, to do what must be done despite the odds. Never in my life was I in a lower or more desperate state. Yet the slow grinding of that chain gave me hope, the will to go on."
That was the end of the story. Kit was lying on his back, looking silently at the clouds far above.
Then Guran removed something from his pouch.
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"Your father said that if I ever told you the story, I was to give you this."
It was a link of the chain that hung at the throne. It was the link that had been worn down and broken.
Kit held it, and stared at it for a long time,
"I now know why you told me that story, Guran. You think I should stay and do what I am supposed to do ever though I hate it."
Guran nodded. "Even though you hate it, but you know it is the thing that should be done. Patience, persistence, the word; your father used with the chain."
Kit sighed deeply. "Yes," he said, "I will go back."
The sun was now low in the sky. They had long since dried in the sun. They heard a little voice.
"You're the boy they're looking for," said the voice. They peered through the grass. It was a little girl, about eight year~ old, in a little white dress, wearing a big red ribbon in her long dark hair. She had wide gray eyes, and the face of an angel. And she lisped.
"I saw your picture in the paper, with him," she said pointing to Guran. "My mommy said you ran away from borne."
They hurriedly adjusted their loincloths and walked over to her.
"Are you lost?" he asked.
"Oh no. My house is right over there. I know your Aunt Bessie," she lisped because of missing front teeth. "And she is crying because you ran away."
"What is your name?" asked Kit.
"Diana. Diana Palmer."
A fortune-teller might have told Kit that this little girl was to be the love of his life. But there was no fortune-teller there.
"Aunt Bessie is crying?"
"You're a bad boy and you should not run away. You should go home," said the child firmly.
&nb
sp; Kit was disturbed. He had not realized Aunt Bessie loved him like that. His mother would also cry if he ran away from home.
"You know, Guran, she's right," he said.
"It is for the best," said Guran nodding.
"He talks funny," said Diana.
"Come, we'll take you home," said Kit, taking her little hand.
They returned as unexpectedly as they had disappeared. Aunt Bessie covered the embarrassed Kit with kisses. Even Uncle Ephraim was relieved, though he remained gruff. He'd felt guilty about the 66
boys' departure.
But he also felt that the runaway should not go unpunished. He demanded the boy be sent to him in the cellar despite Aunt Bessie's tearful protests. Still wearing only a loincloth, Kit arrived with Guran behind him. Uncle Ephraim was standing near the washtub. He had taken off his heavy leather belt, and held it doubled up in his hands.
"You almost broke your aunt's heart," he said sternly. "You must be punished. Bend over that table."
Kit stood silently, and did not move.
