“Something is hunting ahead of us,” remarked one of the men.
“We may get a shot at a lion from the looks of it,” replied another.
A short distance further on they came upon the carcass of a zebra stallion. Barney and Butzow dismounted to examine it in an effort to determine the nature of the enemy that had dispatched it. At the first glance Barney called to one of the other members of the party, an experienced big game hunter.
“What do you make of this, Brown,” he asked, pointing to the exposed haunch.
“It is a man’s kill,” replied the other. “look at that gaping hole over the heart, that would tell the story were it not for the evidence of the knife that cut away these strips from the rump. The carcass is still warm - the kill must have been made within the past few minutes.
“Then it couldn’t have been a man,” spoke up another, “or we should have heard the shot. Wait, here’s Greystoke, let’s see what he thinks of it”
The ape man, who had been riding a couple hundred yards in rear of the others with one of the older men, now reined in close to the dead zebra.
“What have we here?” he asked, swinging from his saddle.
“Brown says this looks like the kill of a man,” said Barney; “but none of us heard any shot.”
Tarzan grasped the zebra by a front and hind pastern and rolled him over upon his other side.
“It went way through, whatever it was,” said Butzow, as the hole behind this shoulder was exposed to view. “Must have been a bullet even if we didn’t hear the report of the gun.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said Tarzan, and then he glanced casually at the ground about the carcass, and bending lower brought his sensitive nostrils close to the mutilated haunch and then to the tramped grasses at the zebra’s side. When he straightened up the others looked at him questioningly.
“A man,” he said— “a white man, has been here since the zebra died. He cut these steaks from the haunches. There is not the slightest odor of gun powder about the wound — it was not made by a powder-sped projectile. It is too large arid too deep for an arrow wound. The only other weapon that could have inflicted it is a spear; but to cast a spear entirely through the carcass of a zebra at the distance to which a man could approach one in the open presupposes a mightiness of muscle and an accuracy of aim little short of superhuman.”
“And you think -?” commenced Brown.
“I think nothing,” interrupted Tarzan, “except that my judgment tells me that my senses are in error — there is no naked, white giant hunting through the country of the Waziri. Come, let’s ride on to the hills and see if we can’t locate the old villain who has been stealing my sheep. From his spoor I’ll venture to say that when we bring him down we shall see the largest lion that any of us has ever seen.”
5. THE WATCHER
As THE party remounted and rode away toward the foothills two wondering black eyes watched them from the safety of the jungle. Nu was utterly non- plussed. What sort of men were these who rode upon beasts the like of which Nu had never dreamed? At first he thought their pith helmets and khaki clothing a part of them; but when one of them removed his helmet and another unbuttoned his jacket Nu saw that they were merely coverings for the head and body, though why men should wish to hamper themselves with such foolish and cumbersome contraptions the troglodyte could not imagine.
As the party rode toward the foothills Nu paralleled them, keeping always down wind from them. He followed them all day during their fruitless search for the lion that had been entering Greystoke’s compound and stealing his sheep, and as they retraced their way toward the bungalow late in the afternoon Nu followed after them.
Never in his life had he been so deeply interested in anything as he was in these strange creatures, and when, half way across the plain, the party came unexpectedly upon a band of antelope grazing in a little hollow and Nu heard the voice of one of the little black sticks the men carried and saw a buck leap into the air and then come heavily to the ground quite dead, deep respect was added to his interest, and possibly a trace of awe as well — fear he knew not.
In a clump of bushes a quarter of a mile from the bungalow Nu came to a halt. The strange odors that assailed his nostrils as he approached the ranch warned him to caution. The black servants and the Waziri warriors, some of whom were always visiting their former chief, presented to Nu’s nostrils an unfamiliar scent — one which made the black shock upon his head stiffen as you have seen the hair upon the neck of a white man’s hound stiffen when for the first time his nose detects the odor of an Indian. And, half smothered in the riot of more powerful odors, there came to Nu’s nostrils now and then a tantalizing suggestion of a faint aroma that set his heart to pounding and the red blood coursing through his veins.
Never did it abide for a sufficient time to make Nu quite sure that it was more than a wanton trick of his senses — the result of the great longing that was in his lonely heart for her whom this ephemeral and elusive effluvium proclaimed. As darkness came he approached closer to the bungalow, always careful, however, to keep down wind from it.
Through the windows he could see people moving about within the lighted interior, but he was not close enough to distinguish features. He saw men and women sitting about a long table, eating with strange weapons upon which they impaled tiny morsels of food which lay upon round, flat stones before them.
There was much laughter and talking, which floated through the open windows to the cave man’s eager ears; but throughout it all there came to him no single word which he could interpret. After these men and women had eaten they came out and sat in the shadows before the entrance to their strange cave, and here again they laughed and chattered, for all the world, thought Nu, like the ape-people; and yet, though it was different from the ways of his own people the troglodyte could not help but note within his own breast a strange yearning to take part in it — a longing for the company of these strange, new people.
He had crept quite close to the veranda now, and presently there floated down to him upon the almost stagnant air a subtle exhalation that is not precisely scent, and for which the languages of modern men have no expression since men themselves have no powers of perception which may grasp it; but to Nu of the Niocene it carried as clear and unmistakable a message as could word of mouth, and it told him that Nat-ul, the daughter of Tha, sat among these strange people before the entrance to their wonderful cave.
And yet Nu could not believe the evidence of his own senses. What could Nat-ul be doing among such as these? How, between two suns, could she have learned the language and the ways of these strangers? It was impossible; and then a man upon the veranda, who sat close beside Victoria Custer, struck a match to light a cigarette, and the flare of the blaze lit up the girl’s features. At the sight of them the cave man involuntarily sprang to his feet. A half smothered exclamation broke from his lips: “Nat-ul!”
“What was that?” exclaimed Barney Custer. “I thought I heard some one speak out there near the rose bushes.”
He rose as though to investigate, but his sister laid her hand upon his arm.
“Don’t go, Barney,” she whispered.
He turned toward her with a questioning look.
“Why?” he asked. “There is no danger. Did you not hear it, too?”
“Yes,” she answered in a low voice, “I heard it, Barney — please don’t leave me.”
He felt the trembling of her hand where it rested upon his sleeve. One of the other men heard the conversation, but of course he could not guess that it carried any peculiar significance — it was merely an expression of the natural timidity of the civilized white woman in the midst of the savage African night.
“It’s nothing, Miss Custer,” he said. “I’ll just walk down there to reassure you — a prowling hyena, perhaps, but nothing more.”
The girl would have been glad to deter him, but she felt that she had already evinced more perturbation than the occasion warranted,
and so she but forced a laugh, remarking that it was not at all worth while, yet in her ears rang the familiar name that had so often fallen from the lips of her dream man.
When one of the others suggested that the investigator had better take an express rifle with him on the chance that the intruder might be “old Raffles,” the sheep thief, the girl started up as though to object but realizing how ridiculous such an attitude would be, and how impossible to explain, she turned instead and entered the house.
Several of the men walked down into the garden, but though they searched for the better part of half an hour they came upon no indication that any savage beast was nearby. Always in front of them a silent figure moved just outside the range of their vision, and when they returned again to the veranda it took up its position once more behind the rose bushes, nor until all had entered the bungalow and sought their beds did the figure stir.
Nu was hungry again, and knowing no law of property rights he found the odor of the Greystoke sheep as appetizing as that of any other of the numerous creatures that were penned within their compounds for the night. Like a supple panther the man scaled the high fence that guarded the imported, pedigreed stock in which Lord Greystoke took such just pride. A moment later there was the frightened rush of animals to the far side of the enclosure, where they halted to turn fear filled eyes back toward the silent beast of prey that crouched over the carcass of a plump ewe. Within the pen Nu ate his fill, and then, cat-like as he had come, he glided back stealthily toward the garden before the darkened bungalow.
Out across the plain, down wind from Nu, another silent figure moved stealthily toward the ranch. It was a huge, maned lion. Every now and then he would halt and lift his sniffing nose to the gentle breeze, and his lips would lift baring the mighty fangs beneath, but no sound came from his deep throat, for he was old, and his wisdom was as the wisdom of the fox.
Once upon a time he would have coughed and moaned and roared after the manner of his hungry brethren, but much experience with men-people and their deafening thunder sticks had taught him that he hunted longest who hunted in silence.
6. NU AND THE LION
Victoria Custer had gone to her room much earlier in the evening than was her custom, but not to sleep. She did not even disrobe, but sat instead in the darkness beside her window looking out toward the black and mysterious jungle in the distance, and the shadowy outlines of the southern hills.
She was trying to fight down forever the foolish obsession that had been growing upon her slowly and insidiously for years. Since the first awakening of developing womanhood within her she had been subject to the strange dream that was now becoming an almost nightly occurrence. At first she had thought nothing of it, other than it was odd that she should continue to dream the same thing so many times; but of late these nightly visions had seemed to hold more of reality than formerly, and to presage some eventful happening in her career — some crisis that was to alter the course of her life. Even by day she could not rid herself of the vision of the black haired young giant, and tonight the culmination had come when she had heard his voice calling so her from the rose thicket. She knew that he was but a creature of her dreams, and it was this knowledge which frightened her so — for it meant but one thing; her mind was tottering beneath the burden of the nervous strain these hallucinations had imposed upon it.
She must gather all the resources of her nervous energy and throw off this terrible obsession forever. She must! She must! Rising, the girl paced back and forth the length of her room. She felt stifled and confined within its narrow limits. Outside, beneath the open sky, with no boundaries save the distant horizon was the place best fitted for such a battle as was raging within her. Snatching up a silken scarf she threw it about her shoulders — a concession to habit, for the night was hot — and stepping through her window to the porch that encircled the bungalow she passed on into the garden.
Just around the nearest angle of the house her brother and Billy Curtiss sat smoking before the window of their bedroom, clad in pajamas and slippers. Curtiss was cleaning the rifle he had used that day — the same that he had carried into the rose garden earlier in the evening. Neither heard the girl’s light footsteps upon the sward, and the corner of the building hid her from their view.
In the open moonlight beside the rose thicket Victoria Custer paced back and forth. A dozen times she reached a determination to seek the first opportunity upon the morrow to give Billy Curtiss an affirmative answer to the question he had asked her the night before — the night of the earthquake; but each time that she thought she had disposed of the matter definitely she found herself involuntarily comparing him with the heroic figure of her dream- man, and again she must need rewage her battle.
As she walked in the moonlight two pair of eyes watched her every movement — one pair, clear, black eyes, from the rose thicket — the other flaming yellow-green orbs hidden in a little clump of bushes at the point where she turned in her passing to retrace her steps — at the point farthest from the watcher among the roses.
Twenty times Nu was on the point of leaping from his concealment and taking the girl in his arms, for to him she was Nat-ul, daughter of Tha, and it had not been a hundred thousand years, but only since the day before yesterday that he had last seen her. Yet each time something deterred him — a strange, vague, indefinable fear of this wondrous creature who was Nat-ul, and yet who was not Nat-ul, but another made in Nat-ul’s image.
The strange things that covered her fair form seemed to have raised a barrier between them — the last time that he had walked hand in hand with her upon the beach naught but a soft strip of the skin of a red doe’s calf had circled her gracefully undulating hips. Her familiar association, too, with these strange people, coupled with the fact that she spoke and understood their language only tended to remove her further from him. Nu was very sad, and very lonely; and the sight of Nat-ul seemed to accentuate rather than relieve his depression. Slowly there was born within him the conviction that Nat-ul was no longer for Nu, the son of Nu. Why, he could not guess; but the bitter fact seemed irrevocable.
The girl had turned quite close to him now, and was retracing her steps toward the bushes twenty yards away. Behind their screening verdure “old Raffles” twitched his tufted tail and drew his steel thewed legs beneath him for the spring, and as he waited just the faintest of purrs escaped his slavering jowls. Too faint the sound to pierce the dulled senses of the twentieth century maiden; but to the man hiding in the rose thicket twenty paces further from the lion than she it fell deep and sinister upon his unspoiled ear.
Like a bolt of lightning — so quickly his muscles responded to his will - the cave man hurtled the intervening rose bushes with a single bound, and, raised spear in hand, bounded after the unconscious girl. The great lion saw him coming, and lest he be cheated of his prey leaped into the moonlight before his intended victim was quite within the radius of his spring.
The beast emitted a horrid roar that froze the girl with terror, and then in the face of his terrific charge the figure of a naked giant leaped past her. She saw a great arm, wielding a mighty spear, hurl the weapon at the infuriated beast — and then she swooned.
As the savage note of the lion’s roar broke the stillness of the quiet night Curtiss and Barney Custer sprang to their feet, running toward the side of the bungalow from which the sound had come. Curtiss grasped the rifle he had but just reloaded, and as he turned the corner of the building he caught one fleeting glimpse of something moving near the bushes fifty yards away. Raising his weapon he fired.
The whole household had been aroused by the lion’s deep voice and the answering boom of the big rifle, so that scarcely a minute after Barney and Curtiss reached the side of the prostrate girl a score of white men and black were gathered about them.
The dead body of a huge lion lay scarce twenty feet from Victoria Custer, but a hurried examination of the girl brought unutterable relief to them all, for she was uninjured. Barney lifted h
er in his arms and carried her to her room while the others examined the dead beast. From the center of the breast a wooden shaft protruded, and when they had drawn this out, and it required the united efforts of four strong men to do it, they found that a stone-tipped spear had passed straight through the savage heart almost the full length of the brute’s body.
“The zebra killer,” said Brown to Greystoke. The latter nodded his head.
“We must find him,” he said. “He has rendered us a great service. But for him Miss Custer would not be alive now;” but though twenty men scouted the grounds and the plain beyond for several hours no trace of the killer of “old Raffles” could be found, and the reason that they did not find him abroad was because he lay directly beneath their noses in a little clump of low, flowering shrubs, with a bullet wound in his head.
7. VICTORIA OBEYS THE CALL
The next morning the men were examining the stone headed spear upon the veranda just outside the breakfast room.
“It’s the oddest thing of its kind I ever saw,” said Greystoke. “I can almost swear that it was never made by any of the tribesmen of present day Africa. I once saw several similar heads, though, in the British Museum. They had been taken from the debris of a prehistoric cave dwelling.”
From the window of the breakfast room just behind them a wide eyed girl was staring in breathless wonderment at the rude weapon, which to her presented concrete evidence of the reality of the thing she had thought but another hallucination — the leaping figure of the naked man that had sprung past her into the face of the charging lion an instant before she had swooned. One of the men turned and saw her standing there.
“Ah, Miss Custer,” he exclaimed; “no worse off this morning I see for your little adventure of last night. Here’s a memento that your rescuer left behind him in the heart of ‘old Raffles.’ Would you like it?”
Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26) Page 445
