by Lee Falk
But because of his success in sports, she became interested herself. She became proficient in horseback riding and tennis, and would soon have a pilot's license. Most of all, she enjoyed swimming. At her school, swimming and diving were a specialty because the swimming coach had been an Olympic record holder. From twelve years old on, Diana was under his tutelage. She soon excelled in racing, spurred on by Kit's constant publicity. But her specialty was diving. Her coach recognized her ability and pleasure in diving-the two necessary ingredients-and devoted much time to her. She began to win ribbons and trophies and was headed for Olympic competition one day in the near future, where she would be a gold medal champion.
Kit remembered the little girl who had come upon him and Guran on the bank. "You were both stark naked," she said with her silvery laughter. He also had the painful memory of the little girl sobbing and choking, dragging herself on her knees away from the crouching black panther. The little girl in his arms, racked with sobs. Now, she was in his arms again as they danced on this Christmas night, and her lovely body was shaking again, this time with laughter as she recalled how he and Guran had grabbed for their loincloths.
Kit was no longer bored and no longer sleepy. They danced and ate together, and he saw her every night during that vacation. At the end of this time, she knew little more about his background than she had at the start, for he spoke sparingly about his homeland. He only mentioned quickly that his mother had died and his father lived alone somewhere. But she learned a good deal about him, his modesty, quick wit, and courtesy. She glimpsed a strong inner core in this young man, a character of steel that she respected and admired, and now knew she had loved almost from the first moment they'd met. As for Kit, he was waiting for someone. He had found her. Diana.
She was in her last year of secondary school, at an Eastern girls' school, so they saw little of each other during the following months. But she continued to follow his career intently in the newspapers.
That summer, they had a few weeks together before Diana went to Europe with her mother. They
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spent these warm June days swimming or canoeing on a nearby lake, and had occasional picnics with school friends on the grassy banks of the Mississippi. There was an Olympic-size swimming pool at a small college near Clarksville and they went there to practice diving from the high board. Kit was proficient at this, having had lessons from his father. But Diana's form was nearing perfection. She had all the style and control of the Olympic gold medalist she would shortly become. If her form on a diving board was almost perfection, her form in a bikini was absolute perfection, the kind of figure young men dream about. Being a young man, Kit did dream about Diana, both awake and asleep, but the dream was always troubled by the uncertainty and mystery of his own future.
She went away, promising to see him as soon as she returned in the fall, and leaving a new kind of emptiness in his life. Then he went to the north woods to a summer job he had secured through the Forest Service as a ranger. It was the first chance he'd had to get back into the woods, and he gloried in it. It was an outdoor life, days on horseback, nights before a campfire, sleeping in a pup tent or under the stars. Memories of the old life in the jungle came back strongly that summer.
But he was back at Harrison for early football practice and his senior year began.
Now, as Kit once again raced over the nation's gridirons and tracks, he reached the status of a national sports idol. His face was on magazine covers; his name was a household word among sports fans everywhere. News of this even reached the Deep Woods, bringing a letter from his father that repeated simply: "Don't forget your books." That faraway world was dim to him now. He was so much a part of this one. Thanks to Kit and his teammates, tiny Harrison U.'s enrollment had tripled.
A huge expansion program of classroom buildings and dormitories was under way, and a giant new stadium was rising on the edge of town.
A startling thing happened one day in the early spring. Boxing's Heavyweight Champion of the World was passing through the town, on his way to a major fight. Because of the scheduling, his managers planned that he would stop over at the town and have a workout at Harrison's gym. There were several sparring partners along with the famous champion. But the manager and his party had heard about Harrison's great athlete, Kit Walker, who among other things held the Intercollegiate heavyweight boxing title. Kit was almost as celebrated as the real champion, and the manager decided it would be great publicity if his man could box a round with the college wonder boy.
Kit was not eager for this, as it meant missing a botany lab class, but he agreed when the publicity office asked him to do it as a favor to the school. Word got around campus that Kit would face the champion. It also reached the radio, television, and news sources, and the gym was filled to capacity.
What was supposed to be a quiet workout had turned into an exciting event.
The champion was amused by all the excitement and his manager was delighted. The idea had been publicity. He noted the television cameras, microphones, and flash cameras with satisfaction. The coming fight needed publicity. This might do it. "Take it easy on the college boy," he told the Champ.
The Champ nodded and grinned. College boy or not, he intended to look good in front of this crowd and these cameras.
A regulation ring had been set up in the center of the gym. There were temporary bleachers on four sides, and the balcony above. The big gym, used for basketball as well as other sports, seated 5,000
people, and every seat was filled, plus spectators packed on the stairs and in the aisles. The entire school and town had turned out. The Champ entered the ring first. He was greeted with loud applause by the friendly audience. He waited impatiently in the ring with his manager and handlers.
Where was Kit? You don't keep the champion waiting. Was he afraid? The crowd buzzed. Then Kit bounded into the gym and bounced over the ropes. The crowd roared. The Champ noticed with annoyance that this roar was twice as loud as his own greeting. "Excuse me," said Kit trying to lace his own gloves. "I had a botany exam. I came as quickly as I could."
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"That's flowers," explained the manager to the Champ. The Champ grunted. "He'll need them."
"Now take it easy," said the manager. "This is only a workout."
"Sure," said the Champ. Kit's easy manner had irritated him. An amateur didn't box every day with a worlds' champion. A smart college kid. And all his smart college friends out there, cheering for the college boy to "knock him flat!" Were they kidding?
Kit's college coach helped with the gloves, a teammate laced Kit's shoes, and he was ready. The boxing coach called for silence, and announced the event through a microphone. "Let's pretend we're at Madison Square Garden," he said, and the crowd laughed. "On my right, the heavyweight champion of the world." The champion bowed, and the crowd cheered. There were a few boos. The champion scowled. "In this corner, our own Kit Walker." The crowd exploded, a tremendous ovation.
The Champ gritted his teeth. They were all pulling for that smart college kid. And besides, the champion was always presented last, not first. "This is a workout for the Champ and his coming match," said the coach. "Let's hope he takes mercy on our own Kit, we need him." The crowd laughed, the others cleared the ring, and someone rang a bell, also causing a laugh.
The Champ eyed his opponent carefully. He was big and powerful, but so were most heavyweights.
And he moved well. Okay, he told himself. Let's go. They sparred easy. Kit had no intention of making a fight of it. This was a favor, a workout for the professional fighter. The cameras were on them. The Champ noted this as he circled Kit. He suddenly lashed out, a sharp blow that Kit only partially blocked. Then another, knocking him against the ropes. The manager chewed his cigar nervously. What was his Champ trying to prove with a college boy? The crowd watched, not yet realizing this fight was for real. Kit wasn't quite sure about that either. But in a clinch, the Champ hit him viciously just b
elow the belt and muttered, "Come on, college boy." Kit reacted instantly. He broke away, but began to weave and circle, blocked a hard block, and hit the Champ hard. The Champ shook his head and grinned. "Is that all you can do college boy?" He sneered, and slammed hard at Kit, knocking him toward the ropes. Kit danced away. This man was tougher than anyone he had ever faced. The World Champion. But he had a feeling that amazed him. He felt he could handle this man. He hit back, and they began to slug at each other, toe-to-toe in the ring.
The crowd began to roar. The manager yelled from the sidelines. But there was no stopping the Champ. He realized now that this college boy was no easy mark. He was tough and strong and skillful. So was the Champ. He belted Kit again, and during a quick clinch, muttered an obscenity in his ear. It had to do with his mother. Kit remained cool. He could control the killer in himself now.
But his fists exploded on the Champ's jaw and the Champ staggered to his knees. As the manager tried to break through to the ropes to stop them, several collegians barred the way. "He wants a fight," they yelled. "Let them fight."
It was rare for this champion even to have one knee on the mat, and the fact was duly recorded by all the television and newspaper reporters. But that was not all. He bounded to his feet, determined to finish this college upstart. Kit belted him hard in the stomach, a tremendous blow that could be heard all the way to the botany lab, and the crowd groaned with it. As the Champ doubled up in pain, Kit landed three times on his jaw, his fists moving like trip-hammers. The Champ fell like one of the tall oaks Kit had chopped the previous summer. He hit the canvas with a loud thump. There was a silence in the big gym. No one had ever knocked the Champ down, much less out. And out he was.
Kit helped the panicked manager and others carry him over the ropes from the ring. Then he waited while a campus doctor hurriedly examined the unconscious Champ in silence. The Champ opened his eyes and growled. The doctor talked to him. He was groggy, but okay. Kit, waiting anxiously at the ropes, smiled at that. The watching crowd now broke loose. If sound waves could really raise the rafters, the roof would have flown off that day. They roared and screamed and screeched and yelled.
Also, they laughed. Their own Kit had beaten the Champion of the World, beaten him good!
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The nation's television viewers watched the short match in sixty million living rooms that night. The world press reported the event, with full pages of action photos.
When Kit came out of the shower in the locker room, the manager was waiting for him, with a contract. The Champ's coming match was to be postponed until he recovered from this workout. As for Kit, the sky was the limit, the manager assured him. He could make millions. Kit thanked him, but said he wasn't interested in a professional career of that sort. Before the Champ left the gym, he insisted upon seeing Kit. All watched this meeting anxiously. Kit was wrapped only in a towel.
Photographers were at hand, recording every moment. Microphones listened, television cameras watched. The Champ's face was bruised and his jaw was swollen.
"Sam says you turned down his offer," he said, glancing at the nervous manager at his side. "I don't know why, but I'm glad of that. You're too much," he grinned, and put out his hand. Kit smiled and shook his hand, and the crowd shouted its approval.
The publicity of the fight worried Kit. He hoped it would not reach his father in the Deep Woods, and give the Twentieth the idea that he was forgetting his books.
CHAPTER 12
KIT WALKER DAY
Spring is beautiful almost everywhere. This spring was especially beautiful for Kit. His senior year, his last spring at Harrison. It was the time for spring dances, for young lovers to walk hand in hand in the shaded campus groves. Diana, still at girls' school in the east, came to Harrison several times to see Kit. Now almost eighteen, her early promise of beauty was fulfilled. She had grown into a magnificent young woman with hair like a black cloud. And she loved this young hero of Harrison.
And Kit loved Diana. She still had four years of college ahead of her, but when she spoke lightly of the future, as a girl in love might, Kit became troubled and avoided the subject.
As the son of the Phantom, he could make no normal plans for the future. Sometimes he daydreamed about it. Diana in the Skull Cave-that seemed impossible, this girl from a rich family, beautiful clothes, private schools, European vacations, devoted to opera, concerts, theater, and achieving a place for herself in this world of athletics as an Olympic diver-Diana in the Skull Cave? Not only impossible. Ridiculous. So he never told her about the Cave, only the jungle. His reticence troubled her, but she trusted him. He must have a good reason.
But the spring was bringing more than graduation and proms to Kit. The huge stadium that had been built near the campus, largely through the prominence he had brought to Harrison, was now completed. And the university and students announced plans to honor their All-American star with a special "Kit Walker Day" in the new structure. Among the invited guests would be the state's senators and congressmen; twelve high-school marching bands; assorted mayors, judges, and other dignitaries; and fifty thousand friends and relatives. The great day came a week before final examinations began and would be the climax of his four-year career at Harrison. Diana came from the East, Aunt Bessie, Uncle Ephraim and a contingent of friends came from Clarksville; old classmates from Clark came, including Jackson; everybody who had met or known this extraordinary boy from the jungles of Bangalla came, even the Champ, with his retinue, to honor the "college kid"
who had knocked him out.
By now, Uncle Ephraim was as proud of Kit as if he had been his own son. And Diana had stars in her eyes. It seemed the whole world loved her hero. What would happen after this month remained vague to Kit. He put it all out of his mind. Diana was with him, and that was all that mattered. Not quite all. Naturally, "Kit Walker Day" excited and pleased him, once it became a reality. He had tried 80
to call off the event, but his pleas were ignored. Harrison U., no longer tiny, was determined to honor her favorite son.
The night before the big day, Kit was at the senior prom with Diana who floated like a dream in white chiffon across the polished dance floor-this was in the big gym, now decorated with flowers and streamers, where Kit had fought the heavyweight champion. That day had been tremendous. The small town was filled with strangers; hotels had to turn away people; private homes took them in.
People slept in their cars, in buses, or on the grass. There was no room in the small town for the crowds that had come to honor Kit Walker.
After dinner with Diana, Bessie and Ephraim at the hotel, and the prom with Diana, which aunt and uncle attended as spectators, he bade them all good-night. There was a big day ahead for him. He walked Diana along the quiet campus walk to the women's dormitory, kissed her good-night-not once but many times-and raced back to his room, his head filled with her delicate perfume. Then he Sat and stared at the walls. A panorama of the years sped through his mind. The ship, Clark, Harrison, Diana. What now?
There was a sound at his second-floor window. Then another. He shook himself out of his reverie and went toward the window. Someone was throwing pebbles lightly against the glass. A fellow student? A fan? He looked out to the shadowy lawn below. A small figure was looking up at him. A child? No. A black man in a suit that was ridiculously large for him-hanging over his hands and shoes. Guran of the pygmy poison people.
CHAPTER 13
THE RETURN OF GURAN
"Guran," Kit called, leaning out of the window. The little man nodded, satisfied he had come to the right place. Kit was about to tell him to wait, and to go down to meet him, but Guran didn't wait.
There was a drainpipe on the wall, and he quickly climbed up to Kit's window. He came into the room and the two faced each other.
Ten years had passed since they'd seen each other. A full decade. Guran, now thirty-two (Kit figured rapidly), seemed unchanged, a stocky little figure whose head barely reached abo
ve Kit's waist.
Guran looked up at Kit. He had left a slim boy. He now faced a powerful young giant. They looked at each other awkwardly. Kit's first impulse had been to embrace his old friend. But Guran seemed stiff and formal, and, at a second glance, had changed. He was heavier, his face lined, and more mature. In the brief moment before Guran spoke, Kit had a sinking feeling of apprehension. Why was he here?
"I bring you a message from the Deep Woods," said Guran in his simple pygmy tongue. "Your father asks that you return at once."
"Is he sick?" said Kit, trying to read the stolid face.
"He is dying," said Guran. Like all his people, he did not mince words. He came to the point. Dying?
His father, the Twentieth? As strong as an oak, as solid as granite? It was not possible. His legs suddenly felt weak. He sat in a chair.
