"Tarzan of the Apes\n\n\nBy\n\nEdgar Rice Burroughs\n\n\n\n\n         CONTENTS\n\n      I  Out to Sea\n     II  The Savage Home\n    III  Life and Death\n     IV  The Apes\n      V  The White Ape\n     VI  Jungle Battles\n    VII  The Light of Knowledge\n   VIII  The Tree-top Hunter\n     IX  Man and Man\n      X  The Fear-Phantom\n     XI  \"King of the Apes\"\n    XII  Man's Reason\n   XIII  His Own Kind\n    XIV  At the Mercy of the Jungle\n     XV  The Forest God\n    XVI  \"Most Remarkable\"\n   XVII  Burials\n  XVIII  The Jungle Toll\n    XIX  The Call of the Primitive\n     XX  Heredity\n    XXI  The Village of Torture\n   XXII  The Search Party\n  XXIII  Brother Men\n   XXIV  Lost Treasure\n    XXV  The Outpost of the World\n   XXVI  The Height of Civilization\n  XXVII  The Giant Again\n XXVIII  Conclusion\n\n\n\n\nChapter I\n\nOut to Sea\n\n\nI had this story from one who had no business to tell it to me, or to\nany other.  I may credit the seductive influence of an old vintage upon\nthe narrator for the beginning of it, and my own skeptical incredulity\nduring the days that followed for the balance of the strange tale.\n\nWhen my convivial host discovered that he had told me so much, and that\nI was prone to doubtfulness, his foolish pride assumed the task the old\nvintage had commenced, and so he unearthed written evidence in the form\nof musty manuscript, and dry official records of the British Colonial\nOffice to support many of the salient features of his remarkable\nnarrative.\n\nI do not say the story is true, for I did not witness the happenings\nwhich it portrays, but the fact that in the telling of it to you I have\ntaken fictitious names for the principal characters quite sufficiently\nevidences the sincerity of my own belief that it MAY be true.\n\nThe yellow, mildewed pages of the diary of a man long dead, and the\nrecords of the Colonial Office dovetail perfectly with the narrative of\nmy convivial host, and so I give you the story as I painstakingly\npieced it out from these several various agencies.\n\nIf you do not find it credible you will at least be as one with me in\nacknowledging that it is unique, remarkable, and interesting.\n\nFrom the records of the Colonial Office and from the dead man's diary\nwe learn that a certain young English nobleman, whom we shall call John\nClayton, Lord Greystoke, was commissioned to make a peculiarly delicate\ninvestigation of conditions in a British West Coast African Colony from\nwhose simple native inhabitants another European power was known to be\nrecruiting soldiers for its native army, which it used solely for the\nforcible collection of rubber and ivory from the savage tribes along\nthe Congo and the Aruwimi.  The natives of the British Colony\ncomplained that many of their young men were enticed away through the\nmedium of fair and glowing promises, but that few if any ever returned\nto their families.\n\nThe Englishmen in Africa went even further, saying that these poor\nblacks were held in virtual slavery, since after their terms of\nenlistment expired their ignorance was imposed upon by their white\nofficers, and they were told that they had yet several years to serve.\n\nAnd so the Colonial Office appointed John Clayton to a new post in\nBritish West Africa, but his confidential instructions centered on a\nthorough investigation of the unfair treatment of black British\nsubjects by the officers of a friendly European power.  Why he was\nsent, is, however, of little moment to this story, for he never made an\ninvestigation, nor, in fact, did he ever reach his destination.\n\nClayton was the type of Englishman that one likes best to associate\nwith the noblest monuments of historic achievement upon a thousand\nvictorious battlefields--a strong, virile man--mentally, morally, and\nphysically.\n\nIn stature he was above the average height; his eyes were gray, his\nfeatures regular and strong; his carriage that of perfect, robust\nhealth influenced by his years of army training.\n\nPolitical ambition had caused him to seek transference from the army to\nthe Colonial Office and so we find him, still young, entrusted with a\ndelicate and important commission in the service of the Queen.\n\nWhen he received this appointment he was both elated and appalled.  The\npreferment seemed to him in the nature of a well-merited reward for\npainstaking and intelligent service, and as a stepping stone to posts\nof greater importance and responsibility; but, on the other hand, he\nhad been married to the Hon. Alice Rutherford for scarce a three\nmonths, and it was the thought of taking this fair young girl into the\ndangers and isolation of tropical Africa that appalled him.\n\nFor her sake he would have refused the appointment, but she would not\nhave it so.  Instead she insisted that he accept, and, indeed, take her\nwith him.\n\nThere were mothers and brothers and sisters, and aunts and cousins to\nexpress various opinions on the subject, but as to what they severally\nadvised history is silent.\n\nWe know only that on a bright May morning in 1888, John, Lord\nGreystoke, and Lady Alice sailed from Dover on their way to Africa.\n\nA month later they arrived at Freetown where they chartered a small\nsailing vessel, the Fuwalda, which was to bear them to their final\ndestination.\n\nAnd here John, Lord Greystoke, and Lady Alice, his wife, vanished from\nthe eyes and from the knowledge of men.\n\nTwo months after they weighed anchor and cleared from the port of\nFreetown a half dozen British war vessels were scouring the south\nAtlantic for trace of them or their little vessel, and it was almost\nimmediately that the wreckage was found upon the shores of St. Helena\nwhich convinced the world that the Fuwalda had gone down with all on\nboard, and hence the search was stopped ere it had scarce begun; though\nhope lingered in longing hearts for many years.\n\nThe Fuwalda, a barkentine of about one hundred tons, was a vessel of\nthe type often seen in coastwise trade in the far southern Atlantic,\ntheir crews composed of the offscourings of the sea--unhanged murderers\nand cutthroats of every race and every nation.\n\nThe Fuwalda was no exception to the rule.  Her officers were swarthy\nbullies, hating and hated by their crew.  The captain, while a\ncompetent seaman, was a brute in his treatment of his men.  He knew, or\nat least he used, but two arguments in his dealings with them--a\nbelaying pin and a revolver--nor is it likely that the motley\naggregation he signed would have understood aught else.\n\nSo it was that from the second day out from Freetown John Clayton and\nhis young wife witnessed scenes upon the deck of the Fuwalda such as\nthey had believed were never enacted outside the covers of printed\nstories of the sea.\n\nIt was on the morning of the second day that the first link was forged\nin what was destined to form a chain of circumstances ending in a life\nfor one then unborn such as has never been paralleled in the history of\nman.\n\nTwo sailors were washing down the decks of the Fuwalda, the first mate\nwas on duty, and the captain had stopped to speak with John Clayton and\nLady Alice.\n\nThe men were working backwards toward the little party who were facing\naway from the sailors.  Closer and closer they came, until one of them\nwas directly behind the captain.  In another moment he would have\npassed by and this strange narrative would never have been recorded.\n\nBut just that instant the officer turned to leave Lord and Lady\nGreystoke, and, as he did so, tripped against the sailor and sprawled\nheadlong upon the deck, overturning the water-pail so that he was\ndrenched in its dirty contents.\n\nFor an instant the scene was ludicrous; but only for an instant.  With\na volley of awful oaths, his face suffused with the scarlet of\nmortification and rage, the captain regained his feet, and with a\nterrific blow felled the sailor to the deck.\n\nThe man was small and rather old, so that the brutality of the act was\nthus accentuated.  The other seaman, however, was neither old nor\nsmall--a huge bear of a man, with fierce black mustachios, and a great\nbull neck set between massive shoulders.\n\nAs he saw his mate go down he crouched, and, with a low snarl, sprang\nupon the captain crushing him to his knees with a single mighty blow.\n\nFrom scarlet the officer's face went white, for this was mutiny; and\nmutiny he had met and subdued before in his brutal career.  Without\nwaiting to rise he whipped a revolver from his pocket, firing point\nblank at the great mountain of muscle towering before him; but, quick\nas he was, John Clayton was almost as quick, so that the bullet which\nwas intended for the sailor's heart lodged in the sailor's leg instead,\nfor Lord Greystoke had struck down the captain's arm as he had seen the\nweapon flash in the sun.\n\nWords passed between Clayton and the captain, the former making it\nplain that he was disgusted with the brutality displayed toward the\ncrew, nor would he countenance anything further of the kind while he\nand Lady Greystoke remained passengers.\n\nThe captain was on the point of making an angry reply, but, thinking\nbetter of it, turned on his heel and black and scowling, strode aft.\n\nHe did not care to antagonize an English official, for the Queen's\nmighty arm wielded a punitive instrument which he could appreciate, and\nwhich he feared--England's far-reaching navy.\n\nThe two sailors picked themselves up, the older man assisting his\nwounded comrade to rise.  The big fellow, who was known among his mates\nas Black Michael, tried his leg gingerly, and, finding that it bore his\nweight, turned to Clayton with a word of gruff thanks.\n\nThough the fellow's tone was surly, his words were evidently well\nmeant.  Ere he had scarce finished his little speech he had turned and\nwas limping off toward the forecastle with the very apparent intention\nof forestalling any further conversation.\n\nThey did not see him again for several days, nor did the captain accord\nthem more than the surliest of grunts when he was forced to speak to\nthem.\n\nThey took their meals in his cabin, as they had before the unfortunate\noccurrence; but the captain was careful to see that his duties never\npermitted him to eat at the same time.\n\nThe other officers were coarse, illiterate fellows, but little above\nthe villainous crew they bullied, and were only too glad to avoid\nsocial intercourse with the polished English noble and his lady, so\nthat the Claytons were left very much to themselves.\n\nThis in itself accorded perfectly with their desires, but it also\nrather isolated them from the life of the little ship so that they were\nunable to keep in touch with the daily happenings which were to\nculminate so soon in bloody tragedy.\n\nThere was in the whole atmosphere of the craft that undefinable\nsomething which presages disaster.  Outwardly, to the knowledge of the\nClaytons, all went on as before upon the little vessel; but that there\nwas an undertow leading them toward some unknown danger both felt,\nthough they did not speak of it to each other.\n\nOn the second day after the wounding of Black Michael, Clayton came on\ndeck just in time to see the limp body of one of the crew being carried\nbelow by four of his fellows while the first mate, a heavy belaying pin\nin his hand, stood glowering at the little party of sullen sailors.\n\nClayton asked no questions--he did not need to--and the following day,\nas the great lines of a British battleship grew out of the distant\nhorizon, he half determined to demand that he and Lady Alice be put\naboard her, for his fears were steadily increasing that nothing but\nharm could result from remaining on the lowering, sullen Fuwalda.\n\nToward noon they were within speaking distance of the British vessel,\nbut when Clayton had nearly decided to ask the captain to put them\naboard her, the obvious ridiculousness of such a request became\nsuddenly apparent.  What reason could he give the officer commanding\nher majesty's ship for desiring to go back in the direction from which\nhe had just come!\n\nWhat if he told them that two insubordinate seamen had been roughly\nhandled by their officers?  They would but laugh in their sleeves and\nattribute his reason for wishing to leave the ship to but one\nthing--cowardice.\n\nJohn Clayton, Lord Greystoke, did not ask to be transferred to the\nBritish man-of-war.  Late in the afternoon he saw her upper works fade\nbelow the far horizon, but not before he learned that which confirmed\nhis greatest fears, and caused him to curse the false pride which had\nrestrained him from seeking safety for his young wife a few short hours\nbefore, when safety was within reach--a safety which was now gone\nforever.\n\nIt was mid-afternoon that brought the little old sailor, who had been\nfelled by the captain a few days before, to where Clayton and his wife\nstood by the ship's side watching the ever diminishing outlines of the\ngreat battleship.  The old fellow was polishing brasses, and as he came\nedging along until close to Clayton he said, in an undertone:\n\n\"'Ell's to pay, sir, on this 'ere craft, an' mark my word for it, sir.\n'Ell's to pay.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, my good fellow?\" asked Clayton.\n\n\"Wy, hasn't ye seen wats goin' on?  Hasn't ye 'eard that devil's spawn\nof a capting an' is mates knockin' the bloomin' lights outen 'arf the\ncrew?\n\n\"Two busted 'eads yeste'day, an' three to-day.  Black Michael's as good\nas new agin an' 'e's not the bully to stand fer it, not 'e; an' mark my\nword for it, sir.\"\n\n\"You mean, my man, that the crew contemplates mutiny?\" asked Clayton.\n\n\"Mutiny!\" exclaimed the old fellow.  \"Mutiny!  They means murder, sir,\nan' mark my word for it, sir.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Hit's comin', sir; hit's comin' but I'm not a-sayin' wen, an' I've\nsaid too damned much now, but ye was a good sort t'other day an' I\nthought it no more'n right to warn ye.  But keep a still tongue in yer\n'ead an' when ye 'ear shootin' git below an' stay there.\n\n\"That's all, only keep a still tongue in yer 'ead, or they'll put a\npill between yer ribs, an' mark my word for it, sir,\" and the old\nfellow went on with his polishing, which carried him away from where\nthe Claytons were standing.\n\n\"Deuced cheerful outlook, Alice,\" said Clayton.\n\n\"You should warn the captain at once, John.  Possibly the trouble may\nyet be averted,\" she said.\n\n\"I suppose I should, but yet from purely selfish motives I am almost\nprompted to 'keep a still tongue in my 'ead.' Whatever they do now they\nwill spare us in recognition of my stand for this fellow Black Michael,\nbut should they find that I had betrayed them there would be no mercy\nshown us, Alice.\"\n\n\"You have but one duty, John, and that lies in the interest of vested\nauthority.  If you do not warn the captain you are as much a party to\nwhatever follows as though you had helped to plot and carry it out with\nyour own head and hands.\"\n\n\"You do not understand, dear,\" replied Clayton.  \"It is of you I am\nthinking--there lies my first duty.  The captain has brought this\ncondition upon himself, so why then should I risk subjecting my wife to\nunthinkable horrors in a probably futile attempt to save him from his\nown brutal folly?  You have no conception, dear, of what would follow\nwere this pack of cutthroats to gain control of the Fuwalda.\"\n\n\"Duty is duty, John, and no amount of sophistries may change it.  I\nwould be a poor wife for an English lord were I to be responsible for\nhis shirking a plain duty.  I realize the danger which must follow, but\nI can face it with you.\"\n\n\"Have it as you will then, Alice,\" he answered, smiling.  \"Maybe we are\nborrowing trouble.  While I do not like the looks of things on board\nthis ship, they may not be so bad after all, for it is possible that\nthe 'Ancient Mariner' was but voicing the desires of his wicked old\nheart rather than speaking of real facts.\n\n\"Mutiny on the high sea may have been common a hundred years ago, but\nin this good year 1888 it is the least likely of happenings.\n\n\"But there goes the captain to his cabin now.  If I am going to warn\nhim I might as well get the beastly job over for I have little stomach\nto talk with the brute at all.\"\n\nSo saying he strolled carelessly in the direction of the companionway\nthrough which the captain had passed, and a moment later was knocking\nat his door.\n\n\"Come in,\" growled the deep tones of that surly officer.\n\nAnd when Clayton had entered, and closed the door behind him:\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"I have come to report the gist of a conversation I heard to-day,\nbecause I feel that, while there may be nothing to it, it is as well\nthat you be forearmed.  In short, the men contemplate mutiny and\nmurder.\"\n\n\"It's a lie!\" roared the captain.  \"And if you have been interfering\nagain with the discipline of this ship, or meddling in affairs that\ndon't concern you you can take the consequences, and be damned.  I\ndon't care whether you are an English lord or not.  I'm captain of this\nhere ship, and from now on you keep your meddling nose out of my\nbusiness.\"\n\nThe captain had worked himself up to such a frenzy of rage that he was\nfairly purple of face, and he shrieked the last words at the top of his\nvoice, emphasizing his remarks by a loud thumping of the table with one\nhuge fist, and shaking the other in Clayton's face.\n\nGreystoke never turned a hair, but stood eying the excited man with\nlevel gaze.\n\n\"Captain Billings,\" he drawled finally, \"if you will pardon my candor,\nI might remark that you are something of an ass.\"\n\nWhereupon he turned and left the captain with the same indifferent ease\nthat was habitual with him, and which was more surely calculated to\nraise the ire of a man of Billings' class than a torrent of invective.\n\nSo, whereas the captain might easily have been brought to regret his\nhasty speech had Clayton attempted to conciliate him, his temper was\nnow irrevocably set in the mold in which Clayton had left it, and the\nlast chance of their working together for their common good was gone.\n\n\"Well, Alice,\" said Clayton, as he rejoined his wife, \"I might have\nsaved my breath.  The fellow proved most ungrateful.  Fairly jumped at\nme like a mad dog.\n\n\"He and his blasted old ship may hang, for aught I care; and until we\nare safely off the thing I shall spend my energies in looking after our\nown welfare.  And I rather fancy the first step to that end should be\nto go to our cabin and look over my revolvers.  I am sorry now that we\npacked the larger guns and the ammunition with the stuff below.\"\n\nThey found their quarters in a bad state of disorder.  Clothing from\ntheir open boxes and bags strewed the little apartment, and even their\nbeds had been torn to pieces.\n\n\"Evidently someone was more anxious about our belongings than we,\" said\nClayton.  \"Let's have a look around, Alice, and see what's missing.\"\n\nA thorough search revealed the fact that nothing had been taken but\nClayton's two revolvers and the small supply of ammunition he had saved\nout for them.\n\n\"Those are the very things I most wish they had left us,\" said Clayton,\n\"and the fact that they wished for them and them alone is most\nsinister.\"\n\n\"What are we to do, John?\" asked his wife.  \"Perhaps you were right in\nthat our best chance lies in maintaining a neutral position.\n\n\"If the officers are able to prevent a mutiny, we have nothing to fear,\nwhile if the mutineers are victorious our one slim hope lies in not\nhaving attempted to thwart or antagonize them.\"\n\n\"Right you are, Alice.  We'll keep in the middle of the road.\"\n\nAs they started to straighten up their cabin, Clayton and his wife\nsimultaneously noticed the corner of a piece of paper protruding from\nbeneath the door of their quarters.  As Clayton stooped to reach for it\nhe was amazed to see it move further into the room, and then he\nrealized that it was being pushed inward by someone from without.\n\nQuickly and silently he stepped toward the door, but, as he reached for\nthe knob to throw it open, his wife's hand fell upon his wrist.\n\n\"No, John,\" she whispered.  \"They do not wish to be seen, and so we\ncannot afford to see them.  Do not forget that we are keeping to the\nmiddle of the road.\"\n\nClayton smiled and dropped his hand to his side.  Thus they stood\nwatching the little bit of white paper until it finally remained at\nrest upon the floor just inside the door.\n\nThen Clayton stooped and picked it up.  It was a bit of grimy, white\npaper roughly folded into a ragged square.  Opening it they found a\ncrude message printed almost illegibly, and with many evidences of an\nunaccustomed task.\n\nTranslated, it was a warning to the Claytons to refrain from reporting\nthe loss of the revolvers, or from repeating what the old sailor had\ntold them--to refrain on pain of death.\n\n\"I rather imagine we'll be good,\" said Clayton with a rueful smile.\n\"About all we can do is to sit tight and wait for whatever may come.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter II\n\nThe Savage Home\n\n\nNor did they have long to wait, for the next morning as Clayton was\nemerging on deck for his accustomed walk before breakfast, a shot rang\nout, and then another, and another.\n\nThe sight which met his eyes confirmed his worst fears.  Facing the\nlittle knot of officers was the entire motley crew of the Fuwalda, and\nat their head stood Black Michael.\n\nAt the first volley from the officers the men ran for shelter, and from\npoints of vantage behind masts, wheel-house and cabin they returned the\nfire of the five men who represented the hated authority of the ship.\n\nTwo of their number had gone down before the captain's revolver.  They\nlay where they had fallen between the combatants.  But then the first\nmate lunged forward upon his face, and at a cry of command from Black\nMichael the mutineers charged the remaining four.  The crew had been\nable to muster but six firearms, so most of them were armed with boat\nhooks, axes, hatchets and crowbars.\n\nThe captain had emptied his revolver and was reloading as the charge\nwas made.  The second mate's gun had jammed, and so there were but two\nweapons opposed to the mutineers as they bore down upon the officers,\nwho now started to give back before the infuriated rush of their men.\n\nBoth sides were cursing and swearing in a frightful manner, which,\ntogether with the reports of the firearms and the screams and groans of\nthe wounded, turned the deck of the Fuwalda to the likeness of a\nmadhouse.\n\nBefore the officers had taken a dozen backward steps the men were upon\nthem.  An ax in the hands of a burly Negro cleft the captain from\nforehead to chin, and an instant later the others were down: dead or\nwounded from dozens of blows and bullet wounds.\n\nShort and grisly had been the work of the mutineers of the Fuwalda, and\nthrough it all John Clayton had stood leaning carelessly beside the\ncompanionway puffing meditatively upon his pipe as though he had been\nbut watching an indifferent cricket match.\n\nAs the last officer went down he thought it was time that he returned\nto his wife lest some members of the crew find her alone below.\n\nThough outwardly calm and indifferent, Clayton was inwardly\napprehensive and wrought up, for he feared for his wife's safety at the\nhands of these ignorant, half-brutes into whose hands fate had so\nremorselessly thrown them.\n\nAs he turned to descend the ladder he was surprised to see his wife\nstanding on the steps almost at his side.\n\n\"How long have you been here, Alice?\"\n\n\"Since the beginning,\" she replied.  \"How awful, John.  Oh, how awful!\nWhat can we hope for at the hands of such as those?\"\n\n\"Breakfast, I hope,\" he answered, smiling bravely in an attempt to\nallay her fears.\n\n\"At least,\" he added, \"I'm going to ask them.  Come with me, Alice.  We\nmust not let them think we expect any but courteous treatment.\"\n\nThe men had by this time surrounded the dead and wounded officers, and\nwithout either partiality or compassion proceeded to throw both living\nand dead over the sides of the vessel.  With equal heartlessness they\ndisposed of their own dead and dying.\n\nPresently one of the crew spied the approaching Claytons, and with a\ncry of:  \"Here's two more for the fishes,\" rushed toward them with\nuplifted ax.\n\nBut Black Michael was even quicker, so that the fellow went down with a\nbullet in his back before he had taken a half dozen steps.\n\nWith a loud roar, Black Michael attracted the attention of the others,\nand, pointing to Lord and Lady Greystoke, cried:\n\n\"These here are my friends, and they are to be left alone.  D'ye\nunderstand?\n\n\"I'm captain of this ship now, an' what I says goes,\" he added, turning\nto Clayton.  \"Just keep to yourselves, and nobody'll harm ye,\" and he\nlooked threateningly on his fellows.\n\nThe Claytons heeded Black Michael's instructions so well that they saw\nbut little of the crew and knew nothing of the plans the men were\nmaking.\n\nOccasionally they heard faint echoes of brawls and quarreling among the\nmutineers, and on two occasions the vicious bark of firearms rang out\non the still air.  But Black Michael was a fit leader for this band of\ncutthroats, and, withal held them in fair subjection to his rule.\n\nOn the fifth day following the murder of the ship's officers, land was\nsighted by the lookout.  Whether island or mainland, Black Michael did\nnot know, but he announced to Clayton that if investigation showed that\nthe place was habitable he and Lady Greystoke were to be put ashore\nwith their belongings.\n\n\"You'll be all right there for a few months,\" he explained, \"and by\nthat time we'll have been able to make an inhabited coast somewhere and\nscatter a bit.  Then I'll see that yer gover'ment's notified where you\nbe an' they'll soon send a man-o'war to fetch ye off.\n\n\"It would be a hard matter to land you in civilization without a lot o'\nquestions being asked, an' none o' us here has any very convincin'\nanswers up our sleeves.\"\n\nClayton remonstrated against the inhumanity of landing them upon an\nunknown shore to be left to the mercies of savage beasts, and,\npossibly, still more savage men.\n\nBut his words were of no avail, and only tended to anger Black Michael,\nso he was forced to desist and make the best he could of a bad\nsituation.\n\nAbout three o'clock in the afternoon they came about off a beautiful\nwooded shore opposite the mouth of what appeared to be a land-locked\nharbor.\n\nBlack Michael sent a small boat filled with men to sound the entrance\nin an effort to determine if the Fuwalda could be safely worked through\nthe entrance.\n\nIn about an hour they returned and reported deep water through the\npassage as well as far into the little basin.\n\nBefore dark the barkentine lay peacefully at anchor upon the bosom of\nthe still, mirror-like surface of the harbor.\n\nThe surrounding shores were beautiful with semitropical verdure, while\nin the distance the country rose from the ocean in hill and tableland,\nalmost uniformly clothed by primeval forest.\n\nNo signs of habitation were visible, but that the land might easily\nsupport human life was evidenced by the abundant bird and animal life\nof which the watchers on the Fuwalda's deck caught occasional glimpses,\nas well as by the shimmer of a little river which emptied into the\nharbor, insuring fresh water in plenitude.\n\nAs darkness settled upon the earth, Clayton and Lady Alice still stood\nby the ship's rail in silent contemplation of their future abode.  From\nthe dark shadows of the mighty forest came the wild calls of savage\nbeasts--the deep roar of the lion, and, occasionally, the shrill scream\nof a panther.\n\nThe woman shrank closer to the man in terror-stricken anticipation of\nthe horrors lying in wait for them in the awful blackness of the nights\nto come, when they should be alone upon that wild and lonely shore.\n\nLater in the evening Black Michael joined them long enough to instruct\nthem to make their preparations for landing on the morrow.  They tried\nto persuade him to take them to some more hospitable coast near enough\nto civilization so that they might hope to fall into friendly hands.\nBut no pleas, or threats, or promises of reward could move him.\n\n\"I am the only man aboard who would not rather see ye both safely dead,\nand, while I know that's the sensible way to make sure of our own\nnecks, yet Black Michael's not the man to forget a favor.  Ye saved my\nlife once, and in return I'm goin' to spare yours, but that's all I can\ndo.\n\n\"The men won't stand for any more, and if we don't get ye landed pretty\nquick they may even change their minds about giving ye that much show.\nI'll put all yer stuff ashore with ye as well as cookin' utensils an'\nsome old sails for tents, an' enough grub to last ye until ye can find\nfruit and game.\n\n\"With yer guns for protection, ye ought to be able to live here easy\nenough until help comes.  When I get safely hid away I'll see to it\nthat the British gover'ment learns about where ye be; for the life of\nme I couldn't tell 'em exactly where, for I don't know myself.  But\nthey'll find ye all right.\"\n\nAfter he had left them they went silently below, each wrapped in gloomy\nforebodings.\n\nClayton did not believe that Black Michael had the slightest intention\nof notifying the British government of their whereabouts, nor was he\nany too sure but that some treachery was contemplated for the following\nday when they should be on shore with the sailors who would have to\naccompany them with their belongings.\n\nOnce out of Black Michael's sight any of the men might strike them\ndown, and still leave Black Michael's conscience clear.\n\nAnd even should they escape that fate was it not but to be faced with\nfar graver dangers?  Alone, he might hope to survive for years; for he\nwas a strong, athletic man.\n\nBut what of Alice, and that other little life so soon to be launched\namidst the hardships and grave dangers of a primeval world?\n\nThe man shuddered as he meditated upon the awful gravity, the fearful\nhelplessness, of their situation.  But it was a merciful Providence\nwhich prevented him from foreseeing the hideous reality which awaited\nthem in the grim depths of that gloomy wood.\n\nEarly next morning their numerous chests and boxes were hoisted on deck\nand lowered to waiting small boats for transportation to shore.\n\nThere was a great quantity and variety of stuff, as the Claytons had\nexpected a possible five to eight years' residence in their new home.\nThus, in addition to the many necessities they had brought, there were\nalso many luxuries.\n\nBlack Michael was determined that nothing belonging to the Claytons\nshould be left on board.  Whether out of compassion for them, or in\nfurtherance of his own self-interests, it would be difficult to say.\n\nThere was no question but that the presence of property of a missing\nBritish official upon a suspicious vessel would have been a difficult\nthing to explain in any civilized port in the world.\n\nSo zealous was he in his efforts to carry out his intentions that he\ninsisted upon the return of Clayton's revolvers to him by the sailors\nin whose possession they were.\n\nInto the small boats were also loaded salt meats and biscuit, with a\nsmall supply of potatoes and beans, matches, and cooking vessels, a\nchest of tools, and the old sails which Black Michael had promised them.\n\nAs though himself fearing the very thing which Clayton had suspected,\nBlack Michael accompanied them to shore, and was the last to leave them\nwhen the small boats, having filled the ship's casks with fresh water,\nwere pushed out toward the waiting Fuwalda.\n\nAs the boats moved slowly over the smooth waters of the bay, Clayton\nand his wife stood silently watching their departure--in the breasts of\nboth a feeling of impending disaster and utter hopelessness.\n\nAnd behind them, over the edge of a low ridge, other eyes\nwatched--close set, wicked eyes, gleaming beneath shaggy brows.\n\nAs the Fuwalda passed through the narrow entrance to the harbor and out\nof sight behind a projecting point, Lady Alice threw her arms about\nClayton's neck and burst into uncontrolled sobs.\n\nBravely had she faced the dangers of the mutiny; with heroic fortitude\nshe had looked into the terrible future; but now that the horror of\nabsolute solitude was upon them, her overwrought nerves gave way, and\nthe reaction came.\n\nHe did not attempt to check her tears.  It were better that nature have\nher way in relieving these long-pent emotions, and it was many minutes\nbefore the girl--little more than a child she was--could again gain\nmastery of herself.\n\n\"Oh, John,\" she cried at last, \"the horror of it.  What are we to do?\nWhat are we to do?\"\n\n\"There is but one thing to do, Alice,\" and he spoke as quietly as\nthough they were sitting in their snug living room at home, \"and that\nis work.  Work must be our salvation.  We must not give ourselves time\nto think, for in that direction lies madness.\n\n\"We must work and wait.  I am sure that relief will come, and come\nquickly, when once it is apparent that the Fuwalda has been lost, even\nthough Black Michael does not keep his word to us.\"\n\n\"But John, if it were only you and I,\" she sobbed, \"we could endure it\nI know; but--\"\n\n\"Yes, dear,\" he answered, gently, \"I have been thinking of that, also;\nbut we must face it, as we must face whatever comes, bravely and with\nthe utmost confidence in our ability to cope with circumstances\nwhatever they may be.\n\n\"Hundreds of thousands of years ago our ancestors of the dim and\ndistant past faced the same problems which we must face, possibly in\nthese same primeval forests.  That we are here today evidences their\nvictory.\n\n\"What they did may we not do?  And even better, for are we not armed\nwith ages of superior knowledge, and have we not the means of\nprotection, defense, and sustenance which science has given us, but of\nwhich they were totally ignorant?  What they accomplished, Alice, with\ninstruments and weapons of stone and bone, surely that may we\naccomplish also.\"\n\n\"Ah, John, I wish that I might be a man with a man's philosophy, but I\nam but a woman, seeing with my heart rather than my head, and all that\nI can see is too horrible, too unthinkable to put into words.\n\n\"I only hope you are right, John.  I will do my best to be a brave\nprimeval woman, a fit mate for the primeval man.\"\n\nClayton's first thought was to arrange a sleeping shelter for the\nnight; something which might serve to protect them from prowling beasts\nof prey.\n\nHe opened the box containing his rifles and ammunition, that they might\nboth be armed against possible attack while at work, and then together\nthey sought a location for their first night's sleeping place.\n\nA hundred yards from the beach was a little level spot, fairly free of\ntrees; here they decided eventually to build a permanent house, but for\nthe time being they both thought it best to construct a little platform\nin the trees out of reach of the larger of the savage beasts in whose\nrealm they were.\n\nTo this end Clayton selected four trees which formed a rectangle about\neight feet square, and cutting long branches from other trees he\nconstructed a framework around them, about ten feet from the ground,\nfastening the ends of the branches securely to the trees by means of\nrope, a quantity of which Black Michael had furnished him from the hold\nof the Fuwalda.\n\nAcross this framework Clayton placed other smaller branches quite close\ntogether.  This platform he paved with the huge fronds of elephant's\near which grew in profusion about them, and over the fronds he laid a\ngreat sail folded into several thicknesses.\n\nSeven feet higher he constructed a similar, though lighter platform to\nserve as roof, and from the sides of this he suspended the balance of\nhis sailcloth for walls.\n\nWhen completed he had a rather snug little nest, to which he carried\ntheir blankets and some of the lighter luggage.\n\nIt was now late in the afternoon, and the balance of the daylight hours\nwere devoted to the building of a rude ladder by means of which Lady\nAlice could mount to her new home.\n\nAll during the day the forest about them had been filled with excited\nbirds of brilliant plumage, and dancing, chattering monkeys, who\nwatched these new arrivals and their wonderful nest building operations\nwith every mark of keenest interest and fascination.\n\nNotwithstanding that both Clayton and his wife kept a sharp lookout\nthey saw nothing of larger animals, though on two occasions they had\nseen their little simian neighbors come screaming and chattering from\nthe near-by ridge, casting frightened glances back over their little\nshoulders, and evincing as plainly as though by speech that they were\nfleeing some terrible thing which lay concealed there.\n\nJust before dusk Clayton finished his ladder, and, filling a great\nbasin with water from the near-by stream, the two mounted to the\ncomparative safety of their aerial chamber.\n\nAs it was quite warm, Clayton had left the side curtains thrown back\nover the roof, and as they sat, like Turks, upon their blankets, Lady\nAlice, straining her eyes into the darkening shadows of the wood,\nsuddenly reached out and grasped Clayton's arms.\n\n\"John,\" she whispered, \"look!  What is it, a man?\"\n\nAs Clayton turned his eyes in the direction she indicated, he saw\nsilhouetted dimly against the shadows beyond, a great figure standing\nupright upon the ridge.\n\nFor a moment it stood as though listening and then turned slowly, and\nmelted into the shadows of the jungle.\n\n\"What is it, John?\"\n\n\"I do not know, Alice,\" he answered gravely, \"it is too dark to see so\nfar, and it may have been but a shadow cast by the rising moon.\"\n\n\"No, John, if it was not a man it was some huge and grotesque mockery\nof man.  Oh, I am afraid.\"\n\nHe gathered her in his arms, whispering words of courage and love into\nher ears.\n\nSoon after, he lowered the curtain walls, tying them securely to the\ntrees so that, except for a little opening toward the beach, they were\nentirely enclosed.\n\nAs it was now pitch dark within their tiny aerie they lay down upon\ntheir blankets to try to gain, through sleep, a brief respite of\nforgetfulness.\n\nClayton lay facing the opening at the front, a rifle and a brace of\nrevolvers at his hand.\n\nScarcely had they closed their eyes than the terrifying cry of a\npanther rang out from the jungle behind them.  Closer and closer it\ncame until they could hear the great beast directly beneath them.  For\nan hour or more they heard it sniffing and clawing at the trees which\nsupported their platform, but at last it roamed away across the beach,\nwhere Clayton could see it clearly in the brilliant moonlight--a great,\nhandsome beast, the largest he had ever seen.\n\nDuring the long hours of darkness they caught but fitful snatches of\nsleep, for the night noises of a great jungle teeming with myriad\nanimal life kept their overwrought nerves on edge, so that a hundred\ntimes they were startled to wakefulness by piercing screams, or the\nstealthy moving of great bodies beneath them.\n\n\n\n\nChapter III\n\nLife and Death\n\n\nMorning found them but little, if at all refreshed, though it was with\na feeling of intense relief that they saw the day dawn.\n\nAs soon as they had made their meager breakfast of salt pork, coffee\nand biscuit, Clayton commenced work upon their house, for he realized\nthat they could hope for no safety and no peace of mind at night until\nfour strong walls effectually barred the jungle life from them.\n\nThe task was an arduous one and required the better part of a month,\nthough he built but one small room.  He constructed his cabin of small\nlogs about six inches in diameter, stopping the chinks with clay which\nhe found at the depth of a few feet beneath the surface soil.\n\nAt one end he built a fireplace of small stones from the beach.  These\nalso he set in clay and when the house had been entirely completed he\napplied a coating of the clay to the entire outside surface to the\nthickness of four inches.\n\nIn the window opening he set small branches about an inch in diameter\nboth vertically and horizontally, and so woven that they formed a\nsubstantial grating that could withstand the strength of a powerful\nanimal.  Thus they obtained air and proper ventilation without fear of\nlessening the safety of their cabin.\n\nThe A-shaped roof was thatched with small branches laid close together\nand over these long jungle grass and palm fronds, with a final coating\nof clay.\n\nThe door he built of pieces of the packing-boxes which had held their\nbelongings, nailing one piece upon another, the grain of contiguous\nlayers running transversely, until he had a solid body some three\ninches thick and of such great strength that they were both moved to\nlaughter as they gazed upon it.\n\nHere the greatest difficulty confronted Clayton, for he had no means\nwhereby to hang his massive door now that he had built it.  After two\ndays' work, however, he succeeded in fashioning two massive hardwood\nhinges, and with these he hung the door so that it opened and closed\neasily.\n\nThe stuccoing and other final touches were added after they moved into\nthe house, which they had done as soon as the roof was on, piling their\nboxes before the door at night and thus having a comparatively safe and\ncomfortable habitation.\n\nThe building of a bed, chairs, table, and shelves was a relatively easy\nmatter, so that by the end of the second month they were well settled,\nand, but for the constant dread of attack by wild beasts and the ever\ngrowing loneliness, they were not uncomfortable or unhappy.\n\nAt night great beasts snarled and roared about their tiny cabin, but,\nso accustomed may one become to oft repeated noises, that soon they\npaid little attention to them, sleeping soundly the whole night through.\n\nThrice had they caught fleeting glimpses of great man-like figures like\nthat of the first night, but never at sufficiently close range to know\npositively whether the half-seen forms were those of man or brute.\n\nThe brilliant birds and the little monkeys had become accustomed to\ntheir new acquaintances, and as they had evidently never seen human\nbeings before they presently, after their first fright had worn off,\napproached closer and closer, impelled by that strange curiosity which\ndominates the wild creatures of the forest and the jungle and the\nplain, so that within the first month several of the birds had gone so\nfar as even to accept morsels of food from the friendly hands of the\nClaytons.\n\nOne afternoon, while Clayton was working upon an addition to their\ncabin, for he contemplated building several more rooms, a number of\ntheir grotesque little friends came shrieking and scolding through the\ntrees from the direction of the ridge.  Ever as they fled they cast\nfearful glances back of them, and finally they stopped near Clayton\njabbering excitedly to him as though to warn him of approaching danger.\n\nAt last he saw it, the thing the little monkeys so feared--the\nman-brute of which the Claytons had caught occasional fleeting glimpses.\n\nIt was approaching through the jungle in a semi-erect position, now and\nthen placing the backs of its closed fists upon the ground--a great\nanthropoid ape, and, as it advanced, it emitted deep guttural growls\nand an occasional low barking sound.\n\nClayton was at some distance from the cabin, having come to fell a\nparticularly perfect tree for his building operations.  Grown careless\nfrom months of continued safety, during which time he had seen no\ndangerous animals during the daylight hours, he had left his rifles and\nrevolvers all within the little cabin, and now that he saw the great\nape crashing through the underbrush directly toward him, and from a\ndirection which practically cut him off from escape, he felt a vague\nlittle shiver play up and down his spine.\n\nHe knew that, armed only with an ax, his chances with this ferocious\nmonster were small indeed--and Alice; O God, he thought, what will\nbecome of Alice?\n\nThere was yet a slight chance of reaching the cabin.  He turned and ran\ntoward it, shouting an alarm to his wife to run in and close the great\ndoor in case the ape cut off his retreat.\n\nLady Greystoke had been sitting a little way from the cabin, and when\nshe heard his cry she looked up to see the ape springing with almost\nincredible swiftness, for so large and awkward an animal, in an effort\nto head off Clayton.\n\nWith a low cry she sprang toward the cabin, and, as she entered, gave a\nbackward glance which filled her soul with terror, for the brute had\nintercepted her husband, who now stood at bay grasping his ax with both\nhands ready to swing it upon the infuriated animal when he should make\nhis final charge.\n\n\"Close and bolt the door, Alice,\" cried Clayton.  \"I can finish this\nfellow with my ax.\"\n\nBut he knew he was facing a horrible death, and so did she.\n\nThe ape was a great bull, weighing probably three hundred pounds.  His\nnasty, close-set eyes gleamed hatred from beneath his shaggy brows,\nwhile his great canine fangs were bared in a horrid snarl as he paused\na moment before his prey.\n\nOver the brute's shoulder Clayton could see the doorway of his cabin,\nnot twenty paces distant, and a great wave of horror and fear swept\nover him as he saw his young wife emerge, armed with one of his rifles.\n\nShe had always been afraid of firearms, and would never touch them, but\nnow she rushed toward the ape with the fearlessness of a lioness\nprotecting its young.\n\n\"Back, Alice,\" shouted Clayton, \"for God's sake, go back.\"\n\nBut she would not heed, and just then the ape charged, so that Clayton\ncould say no more.\n\nThe man swung his ax with all his mighty strength, but the powerful\nbrute seized it in those terrible hands, and tearing it from Clayton's\ngrasp hurled it far to one side.\n\nWith an ugly snarl he closed upon his defenseless victim, but ere his\nfangs had reached the throat they thirsted for, there was a sharp\nreport and a bullet entered the ape's back between his shoulders.\n\nThrowing Clayton to the ground the beast turned upon his new enemy.\nThere before him stood the terrified girl vainly trying to fire another\nbullet into the animal's body; but she did not understand the mechanism\nof the firearm, and the hammer fell futilely upon an empty cartridge.\n\nAlmost simultaneously Clayton regained his feet, and without thought of\nthe utter hopelessness of it, he rushed forward to drag the ape from\nhis wife's prostrate form.\n\nWith little or no effort he succeeded, and the great bulk rolled\ninertly upon the turf before him--the ape was dead.  The bullet had\ndone its work.\n\nA hasty examination of his wife revealed no marks upon her, and Clayton\ndecided that the huge brute had died the instant he had sprung toward\nAlice.\n\nGently he lifted his wife's still unconscious form, and bore her to the\nlittle cabin, but it was fully two hours before she regained\nconsciousness.\n\nHer first words filled Clayton with vague apprehension.  For some time\nafter regaining her senses, Alice gazed wonderingly about the interior\nof the little cabin, and then, with a satisfied sigh, said:\n\n\"O, John, it is so good to be really home!  I have had an awful dream,\ndear.  I thought we were no longer in London, but in some horrible\nplace where great beasts attacked us.\"\n\n\"There, there, Alice,\" he said, stroking her forehead, \"try to sleep\nagain, and do not worry your head about bad dreams.\"\n\nThat night a little son was born in the tiny cabin beside the primeval\nforest, while a leopard screamed before the door, and the deep notes of\na lion's roar sounded from beyond the ridge.\n\nLady Greystoke never recovered from the shock of the great ape's\nattack, and, though she lived for a year after her baby was born, she\nwas never again outside the cabin, nor did she ever fully realize that\nshe was not in England.\n\nSometimes she would question Clayton as to the strange noises of the\nnights; the absence of servants and friends, and the strange rudeness\nof the furnishings within her room, but, though he made no effort to\ndeceive her, never could she grasp the meaning of it all.\n\nIn other ways she was quite rational, and the joy and happiness she\ntook in the possession of her little son and the constant attentions of\nher husband made that year a very happy one for her, the happiest of\nher young life.\n\nThat it would have been beset by worries and apprehension had she been\nin full command of her mental faculties Clayton well knew; so that\nwhile he suffered terribly to see her so, there were times when he was\nalmost glad, for her sake, that she could not understand.\n\nLong since had he given up any hope of rescue, except through accident.\nWith unremitting zeal he had worked to beautify the interior of the\ncabin.\n\nSkins of lion and panther covered the floor.  Cupboards and bookcases\nlined the walls.  Odd vases made by his own hand from the clay of the\nregion held beautiful tropical flowers.  Curtains of grass and bamboo\ncovered the windows, and, most arduous task of all, with his meager\nassortment of tools he had fashioned lumber to neatly seal the walls\nand ceiling and lay a smooth floor within the cabin.\n\nThat he had been able to turn his hands at all to such unaccustomed\nlabor was a source of mild wonder to him.  But he loved the work\nbecause it was for her and the tiny life that had come to cheer them,\nthough adding a hundredfold to his responsibilities and to the\nterribleness of their situation.\n\nDuring the year that followed, Clayton was several times attacked by\nthe great apes which now seemed to continually infest the vicinity of\nthe cabin; but as he never again ventured outside without both rifle\nand revolvers he had little fear of the huge beasts.\n\nHe had strengthened the window protections and fitted a unique wooden\nlock to the cabin door, so that when he hunted for game and fruits, as\nit was constantly necessary for him to do to insure sustenance, he had\nno fear that any animal could break into the little home.\n\nAt first he shot much of the game from the cabin windows, but toward\nthe end the animals learned to fear the strange lair from whence issued\nthe terrifying thunder of his rifle.\n\nIn his leisure Clayton read, often aloud to his wife, from the store of\nbooks he had brought for their new home.  Among these were many for\nlittle children--picture books, primers, readers--for they had known\nthat their little child would be old enough for such before they might\nhope to return to England.\n\nAt other times Clayton wrote in his diary, which he had always been\naccustomed to keep in French, and in which he recorded the details of\ntheir strange life.  This book he kept locked in a little metal box.\n\nA year from the day her little son was born Lady Alice passed quietly\naway in the night.  So peaceful was her end that it was hours before\nClayton could awake to a realization that his wife was dead.\n\nThe horror of the situation came to him very slowly, and it is doubtful\nthat he ever fully realized the enormity of his sorrow and the fearful\nresponsibility that had devolved upon him with the care of that wee\nthing, his son, still a nursing babe.\n\nThe last entry in his diary was made the morning following her death,\nand there he recites the sad details in a matter-of-fact way that adds\nto the pathos of it; for it breathes a tired apathy born of long sorrow\nand hopelessness, which even this cruel blow could scarcely awake to\nfurther suffering:\n\n\nMy little son is crying for nourishment--O Alice, Alice, what shall I\ndo?\n\n\nAnd as John Clayton wrote the last words his hand was destined ever to\npen, he dropped his head wearily upon his outstretched arms where they\nrested upon the table he had built for her who lay still and cold in\nthe bed beside him.\n\nFor a long time no sound broke the deathlike stillness of the jungle\nmidday save the piteous wailing of the tiny man-child.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IV\n\nThe Apes\n\n\nIn the forest of the table-land a mile back from the ocean old Kerchak\nthe Ape was on a rampage of rage among his people.\n\nThe younger and lighter members of his tribe scampered to the higher\nbranches of the great trees to escape his wrath; risking their lives\nupon branches that scarce supported their weight rather than face old\nKerchak in one of his fits of uncontrolled anger.\n\nThe other males scattered in all directions, but not before the\ninfuriated brute had felt the vertebra of one snap between his great,\nfoaming jaws.\n\nA luckless young female slipped from an insecure hold upon a high\nbranch and came crashing to the ground almost at Kerchak's feet.\n\nWith a wild scream he was upon her, tearing a great piece from her side\nwith his mighty teeth, and striking her viciously upon her head and\nshoulders with a broken tree limb until her skull was crushed to a\njelly.\n\nAnd then he spied Kala, who, returning from a search for food with her\nyoung babe, was ignorant of the state of the mighty male's temper until\nsuddenly the shrill warnings of her fellows caused her to scamper madly\nfor safety.\n\nBut Kerchak was close upon her, so close that he had almost grasped her\nankle had she not made a furious leap far into space from one tree to\nanother--a perilous chance which apes seldom if ever take, unless so\nclosely pursued by danger that there is no alternative.\n\nShe made the leap successfully, but as she grasped the limb of the\nfurther tree the sudden jar loosened the hold of the tiny babe where it\nclung frantically to her neck, and she saw the little thing hurled,\nturning and twisting, to the ground thirty feet below.\n\nWith a low cry of dismay Kala rushed headlong to its side, thoughtless\nnow of the danger from Kerchak; but when she gathered the wee, mangled\nform to her bosom life had left it.\n\nWith low moans, she sat cuddling the body to her; nor did Kerchak\nattempt to molest her.  With the death of the babe his fit of\ndemoniacal rage passed as suddenly as it had seized him.\n\nKerchak was a huge king ape, weighing perhaps three hundred and fifty\npounds.  His forehead was extremely low and receding, his eyes\nbloodshot, small and close set to his coarse, flat nose; his ears large\nand thin, but smaller than most of his kind.\n\nHis awful temper and his mighty strength made him supreme among the\nlittle tribe into which he had been born some twenty years before.\n\nNow that he was in his prime, there was no simian in all the mighty\nforest through which he roved that dared contest his right to rule, nor\ndid the other and larger animals molest him.\n\nOld Tantor, the elephant, alone of all the wild savage life, feared him\nnot--and he alone did Kerchak fear.  When Tantor trumpeted, the great\nape scurried with his fellows high among the trees of the second\nterrace.\n\nThe tribe of anthropoids over which Kerchak ruled with an iron hand and\nbared fangs, numbered some six or eight families, each family\nconsisting of an adult male with his females and their young, numbering\nin all some sixty or seventy apes.\n\nKala was the youngest mate of a male called Tublat, meaning broken\nnose, and the child she had seen dashed to death was her first; for she\nwas but nine or ten years old.\n\nNotwithstanding her youth, she was large and powerful--a splendid,\nclean-limbed animal, with a round, high forehead, which denoted more\nintelligence than most of her kind possessed.  So, also, she had a\ngreat capacity for mother love and mother sorrow.\n\nBut she was still an ape, a huge, fierce, terrible beast of a species\nclosely allied to the gorilla, yet more intelligent; which, with the\nstrength of their cousin, made her kind the most fearsome of those\nawe-inspiring progenitors of man.\n\nWhen the tribe saw that Kerchak's rage had ceased they came slowly down\nfrom their arboreal retreats and pursued again the various occupations\nwhich he had interrupted.\n\nThe young played and frolicked about among the trees and bushes.  Some\nof the adults lay prone upon the soft mat of dead and decaying\nvegetation which covered the ground, while others turned over pieces of\nfallen branches and clods of earth in search of the small bugs and\nreptiles which formed a part of their food.\n\nOthers, again, searched the surrounding trees for fruit, nuts, small\nbirds, and eggs.\n\nThey had passed an hour or so thus when Kerchak called them together,\nand, with a word of command to them to follow him, set off toward the\nsea.\n\nThey traveled for the most part upon the ground, where it was open,\nfollowing the path of the great elephants whose comings and goings\nbreak the only roads through those tangled mazes of bush, vine,\ncreeper, and tree.  When they walked it was with a rolling, awkward\nmotion, placing the knuckles of their closed hands upon the ground and\nswinging their ungainly bodies forward.\n\nBut when the way was through the lower trees they moved more swiftly,\nswinging from branch to branch with the agility of their smaller\ncousins, the monkeys.  And all the way Kala carried her little dead\nbaby hugged closely to her breast.\n\nIt was shortly after noon when they reached a ridge overlooking the\nbeach where below them lay the tiny cottage which was Kerchak's goal.\n\nHe had seen many of his kind go to their deaths before the loud noise\nmade by the little black stick in the hands of the strange white ape\nwho lived in that wonderful lair, and Kerchak had made up his brute\nmind to own that death-dealing contrivance, and to explore the interior\nof the mysterious den.\n\nHe wanted, very, very much, to feel his teeth sink into the neck of the\nqueer animal that he had learned to hate and fear, and because of this,\nhe came often with his tribe to reconnoiter, waiting for a time when\nthe white ape should be off his guard.\n\nOf late they had quit attacking, or even showing themselves; for every\ntime they had done so in the past the little stick had roared out its\nterrible message of death to some member of the tribe.\n\nToday there was no sign of the man about, and from where they watched\nthey could see that the cabin door was open.  Slowly, cautiously, and\nnoiselessly they crept through the jungle toward the little cabin.\n\nThere were no growls, no fierce screams of rage--the little black stick\nhad taught them to come quietly lest they awaken it.\n\nOn, on they came until Kerchak himself slunk stealthily to the very\ndoor and peered within.  Behind him were two males, and then Kala,\nclosely straining the little dead form to her breast.\n\nInside the den they saw the strange white ape lying half across a\ntable, his head buried in his arms; and on the bed lay a figure covered\nby a sailcloth, while from a tiny rustic cradle came the plaintive\nwailing of a babe.\n\nNoiselessly Kerchak entered, crouching for the charge; and then John\nClayton rose with a sudden start and faced them.\n\nThe sight that met his eyes must have frozen him with horror, for\nthere, within the door, stood three great bull apes, while behind them\ncrowded many more; how many he never knew, for his revolvers were\nhanging on the far wall beside his rifle, and Kerchak was charging.\n\nWhen the king ape released the limp form which had been John Clayton,\nLord Greystoke, he turned his attention toward the little cradle; but\nKala was there before him, and when he would have grasped the child she\nsnatched it herself, and before he could intercept her she had bolted\nthrough the door and taken refuge in a high tree.\n\nAs she took up the little live baby of Alice Clayton she dropped the\ndead body of her own into the empty cradle; for the wail of the living\nhad answered the call of universal motherhood within her wild breast\nwhich the dead could not still.\n\nHigh up among the branches of a mighty tree she hugged the shrieking\ninfant to her bosom, and soon the instinct that was as dominant in this\nfierce female as it had been in the breast of his tender and beautiful\nmother--the instinct of mother love--reached out to the tiny\nman-child's half-formed understanding, and he became quiet.\n\nThen hunger closed the gap between them, and the son of an English lord\nand an English lady nursed at the breast of Kala, the great ape.\n\nIn the meantime the beasts within the cabin were warily examining the\ncontents of this strange lair.\n\nOnce satisfied that Clayton was dead, Kerchak turned his attention to\nthe thing which lay upon the bed, covered by a piece of sailcloth.\n\nGingerly he lifted one corner of the shroud, but when he saw the body\nof the woman beneath he tore the cloth roughly from her form and seized\nthe still, white throat in his huge, hairy hands.\n\nA moment he let his fingers sink deep into the cold flesh, and then,\nrealizing that she was already dead, he turned from her, to examine the\ncontents of the room; nor did he again molest the body of either Lady\nAlice or Sir John.\n\nThe rifle hanging upon the wall caught his first attention; it was for\nthis strange, death-dealing thunder-stick that he had yearned for\nmonths; but now that it was within his grasp he scarcely had the\ntemerity to seize it.\n\nCautiously he approached the thing, ready to flee precipitately should\nit speak in its deep roaring tones, as he had heard it speak before,\nthe last words to those of his kind who, through ignorance or rashness,\nhad attacked the wonderful white ape that had borne it.\n\nDeep in the beast's intelligence was something which assured him that\nthe thunder-stick was only dangerous when in the hands of one who could\nmanipulate it, but yet it was several minutes ere he could bring\nhimself to touch it.\n\nInstead, he walked back and forth along the floor before it, turning\nhis head so that never once did his eyes leave the object of his desire.\n\nUsing his long arms as a man uses crutches, and rolling his huge\ncarcass from side to side with each stride, the great king ape paced to\nand fro, uttering deep growls, occasionally punctuated with the\near-piercing scream, than which there is no more terrifying noise in\nall the jungle.\n\nPresently he halted before the rifle.  Slowly he raised a huge hand\nuntil it almost touched the shining barrel, only to withdraw it once\nmore and continue his hurried pacing.\n\nIt was as though the great brute by this show of fearlessness, and\nthrough the medium of his wild voice, was endeavoring to bolster up his\ncourage to the point which would permit him to take the rifle in his\nhand.\n\nAgain he stopped, and this time succeeded in forcing his reluctant hand\nto the cold steel, only to snatch it away almost immediately and resume\nhis restless beat.\n\nTime after time this strange ceremony was repeated, but on each\noccasion with increased confidence, until, finally, the rifle was torn\nfrom its hook and lay in the grasp of the great brute.\n\nFinding that it harmed him not, Kerchak began to examine it closely.\nHe felt of it from end to end, peered down the black depths of the\nmuzzle, fingered the sights, the breech, the stock, and finally the\ntrigger.\n\nDuring all these operations the apes who had entered sat huddled near\nthe door watching their chief, while those outside strained and crowded\nto catch a glimpse of what transpired within.\n\nSuddenly Kerchak's finger closed upon the trigger.  There was a\ndeafening roar in the little room and the apes at and beyond the door\nfell over one another in their wild anxiety to escape.\n\nKerchak was equally frightened, so frightened, in fact, that he quite\nforgot to throw aside the author of that fearful noise, but bolted for\nthe door with it tightly clutched in one hand.\n\nAs he passed through the opening, the front sight of the rifle caught\nupon the edge of the inswung door with sufficient force to close it\ntightly after the fleeing ape.\n\nWhen Kerchak came to a halt a short distance from the cabin and\ndiscovered that he still held the rifle, he dropped it as he might have\ndropped a red hot iron, nor did he again attempt to recover it--the\nnoise was too much for his brute nerves; but he was now quite convinced\nthat the terrible stick was quite harmless by itself if left alone.\n\nIt was an hour before the apes could again bring themselves to approach\nthe cabin to continue their investigations, and when they finally did\nso, they found to their chagrin that the door was closed and so\nsecurely fastened that they could not force it.\n\nThe cleverly constructed latch which Clayton had made for the door had\nsprung as Kerchak passed out; nor could the apes find means of ingress\nthrough the heavily barred windows.\n\nAfter roaming about the vicinity for a short time, they started back\nfor the deeper forests and the higher land from whence they had come.\n\nKala had not once come to earth with her little adopted babe, but now\nKerchak called to her to descend with the rest, and as there was no\nnote of anger in his voice she dropped lightly from branch to branch\nand joined the others on their homeward march.\n\nThose of the apes who attempted to examine Kala's strange baby were\nrepulsed with bared fangs and low menacing growls, accompanied by words\nof warning from Kala.\n\nWhen they assured her that they meant the child no harm she permitted\nthem to come close, but would not allow them to touch her charge.\n\nIt was as though she knew that her baby was frail and delicate and\nfeared lest the rough hands of her fellows might injure the little\nthing.\n\nAnother thing she did, and which made traveling an onerous trial for\nher.  Remembering the death of her own little one, she clung\ndesperately to the new babe, with one hand, whenever they were upon the\nmarch.\n\nThe other young rode upon their mothers' backs; their little arms\ntightly clasping the hairy necks before them, while their legs were\nlocked beneath their mothers' armpits.\n\nNot so with Kala; she held the small form of the little Lord Greystoke\ntightly to her breast, where the dainty hands clutched the long black\nhair which covered that portion of her body.  She had seen one child\nfall from her back to a terrible death, and she would take no further\nchances with this.\n\n\n\n\nChapter V\n\nThe White Ape\n\n\nTenderly Kala nursed her little waif, wondering silently why it did not\ngain strength and agility as did the little apes of other mothers.  It\nwas nearly a year from the time the little fellow came into her\npossession before he would walk alone, and as for climbing--my, but how\nstupid he was!\n\nKala sometimes talked with the older females about her young hopeful,\nbut none of them could understand how a child could be so slow and\nbackward in learning to care for itself.  Why, it could not even find\nfood alone, and more than twelve moons had passed since Kala had come\nupon it.\n\nHad they known that the child had seen thirteen moons before it had\ncome into Kala's possession they would have considered its case as\nabsolutely hopeless, for the little apes of their own tribe were as far\nadvanced in two or three moons as was this little stranger after\ntwenty-five.\n\nTublat, Kala's husband, was sorely vexed, and but for the female's\ncareful watching would have put the child out of the way.\n\n\"He will never be a great ape,\" he argued.  \"Always will you have to\ncarry him and protect him.  What good will he be to the tribe?  None;\nonly a burden.\n\n\"Let us leave him quietly sleeping among the tall grasses, that you may\nbear other and stronger apes to guard us in our old age.\"\n\n\"Never, Broken Nose,\" replied Kala.  \"If I must carry him forever, so\nbe it.\"\n\nAnd then Tublat went to Kerchak to urge him to use his authority with\nKala, and force her to give up little Tarzan, which was the name they\nhad given to the tiny Lord Greystoke, and which meant \"White-Skin.\"\n\nBut when Kerchak spoke to her about it Kala threatened to run away from\nthe tribe if they did not leave her in peace with the child; and as\nthis is one of the inalienable rights of the jungle folk, if they be\ndissatisfied among their own people, they bothered her no more, for\nKala was a fine clean-limbed young female, and they did not wish to\nlose her.\n\nAs Tarzan grew he made more rapid strides, so that by the time he was\nten years old he was an excellent climber, and on the ground could do\nmany wonderful things which were beyond the powers of his little\nbrothers and sisters.\n\nIn many ways did he differ from them, and they often marveled at his\nsuperior cunning, but in strength and size he was deficient; for at ten\nthe great anthropoids were fully grown, some of them towering over six\nfeet in height, while little Tarzan was still but a half-grown boy.\n\nYet such a boy!\n\nFrom early childhood he had used his hands to swing from branch to\nbranch after the manner of his giant mother, and as he grew older he\nspent hour upon hour daily speeding through the tree tops with his\nbrothers and sisters.\n\nHe could spring twenty feet across space at the dizzy heights of the\nforest top, and grasp with unerring precision, and without apparent\njar, a limb waving wildly in the path of an approaching tornado.\n\nHe could drop twenty feet at a stretch from limb to limb in rapid\ndescent to the ground, or he could gain the utmost pinnacle of the\nloftiest tropical giant with the ease and swiftness of a squirrel.\n\nThough but ten years old he was fully as strong as the average man of\nthirty, and far more agile than the most practiced athlete ever\nbecomes.  And day by day his strength was increasing.\n\nHis life among these fierce apes had been happy; for his recollection\nheld no other life, nor did he know that there existed within the\nuniverse aught else than his little forest and the wild jungle animals\nwith which he was familiar.\n\nHe was nearly ten before he commenced to realize that a great\ndifference existed between himself and his fellows.  His little body,\nburned brown by exposure, suddenly caused him feelings of intense\nshame, for he realized that it was entirely hairless, like some low\nsnake, or other reptile.\n\nHe attempted to obviate this by plastering himself from head to foot\nwith mud, but this dried and fell off.  Besides it felt so\nuncomfortable that he quickly decided that he preferred the shame to\nthe discomfort.\n\nIn the higher land which his tribe frequented was a little lake, and it\nwas here that Tarzan first saw his face in the clear, still waters of\nits bosom.\n\nIt was on a sultry day of the dry season that he and one of his cousins\nhad gone down to the bank to drink.  As they leaned over, both little\nfaces were mirrored on the placid pool; the fierce and terrible\nfeatures of the ape beside those of the aristocratic scion of an old\nEnglish house.\n\nTarzan was appalled.  It had been bad enough to be hairless, but to own\nsuch a countenance!  He wondered that the other apes could look at him\nat all.\n\nThat tiny slit of a mouth and those puny white teeth!  How they looked\nbeside the mighty lips and powerful fangs of his more fortunate\nbrothers!\n\nAnd the little pinched nose of his; so thin was it that it looked half\nstarved.  He turned red as he compared it with the beautiful broad\nnostrils of his companion.  Such a generous nose!  Why it spread half\nacross his face!  It certainly must be fine to be so handsome, thought\npoor little Tarzan.\n\nBut when he saw his own eyes; ah, that was the final blow--a brown\nspot, a gray circle and then blank whiteness!  Frightful! not even the\nsnakes had such hideous eyes as he.\n\nSo intent was he upon this personal appraisement of his features that\nhe did not hear the parting of the tall grass behind him as a great\nbody pushed itself stealthily through the jungle; nor did his\ncompanion, the ape, hear either, for he was drinking and the noise of\nhis sucking lips and gurgles of satisfaction drowned the quiet approach\nof the intruder.\n\nNot thirty paces behind the two she crouched--Sabor, the huge\nlioness--lashing her tail.  Cautiously she moved a great padded paw\nforward, noiselessly placing it before she lifted the next.  Thus she\nadvanced; her belly low, almost touching the surface of the ground--a\ngreat cat preparing to spring upon its prey.\n\nNow she was within ten feet of the two unsuspecting little\nplayfellows--carefully she drew her hind feet well up beneath her body,\nthe great muscles rolling under the beautiful skin.\n\nSo low she was crouching now that she seemed flattened to the earth\nexcept for the upward bend of the glossy back as it gathered for the\nspring.\n\nNo longer the tail lashed--quiet and straight behind her it lay.\n\nAn instant she paused thus, as though turned to stone, and then, with\nan awful scream, she sprang.\n\nSabor, the lioness, was a wise hunter.  To one less wise the wild alarm\nof her fierce cry as she sprang would have seemed a foolish thing, for\ncould she not more surely have fallen upon her victims had she but\nquietly leaped without that loud shriek?\n\nBut Sabor knew well the wondrous quickness of the jungle folk and their\nalmost unbelievable powers of hearing.  To them the sudden scraping of\none blade of grass across another was as effectual a warning as her\nloudest cry, and Sabor knew that she could not make that mighty leap\nwithout a little noise.\n\nHer wild scream was not a warning.  It was voiced to freeze her poor\nvictims in a paralysis of terror for the tiny fraction of an instant\nwhich would suffice for her mighty claws to sink into their soft flesh\nand hold them beyond hope of escape.\n\nSo far as the ape was concerned, Sabor reasoned correctly.  The little\nfellow crouched trembling just an instant, but that instant was quite\nlong enough to prove his undoing.\n\nNot so, however, with Tarzan, the man-child.  His life amidst the\ndangers of the jungle had taught him to meet emergencies with\nself-confidence, and his higher intelligence resulted in a quickness of\nmental action far beyond the powers of the apes.\n\nSo the scream of Sabor, the lioness, galvanized the brain and muscles\nof little Tarzan into instant action.\n\nBefore him lay the deep waters of the little lake, behind him certain\ndeath; a cruel death beneath tearing claws and rending fangs.\n\nTarzan had always hated water except as a medium for quenching his\nthirst.  He hated it because he connected it with the chill and\ndiscomfort of the torrential rains, and he feared it for the thunder\nand lightning and wind which accompanied them.\n\nThe deep waters of the lake he had been taught by his wild mother to\navoid, and further, had he not seen little Neeta sink beneath its quiet\nsurface only a few short weeks before never to return to the tribe?\n\nBut of the two evils his quick mind chose the lesser ere the first note\nof Sabor's scream had scarce broken the quiet of the jungle, and before\nthe great beast had covered half her leap Tarzan felt the chill waters\nclose above his head.\n\nHe could not swim, and the water was very deep; but still he lost no\nparticle of that self-confidence and resourcefulness which were the\nbadges of his superior being.\n\nRapidly he moved his hands and feet in an attempt to scramble upward,\nand, possibly more by chance than design, he fell into the stroke that\na dog uses when swimming, so that within a few seconds his nose was\nabove water and he found that he could keep it there by continuing his\nstrokes, and also make progress through the water.\n\nHe was much surprised and pleased with this new acquirement which had\nbeen so suddenly thrust upon him, but he had no time for thinking much\nupon it.\n\nHe was now swimming parallel to the bank and there he saw the cruel\nbeast that would have seized him crouching upon the still form of his\nlittle playmate.\n\nThe lioness was intently watching Tarzan, evidently expecting him to\nreturn to shore, but this the boy had no intention of doing.\n\nInstead he raised his voice in the call of distress common to his\ntribe, adding to it the warning which would prevent would-be rescuers\nfrom running into the clutches of Sabor.\n\nAlmost immediately there came an answer from the distance, and\npresently forty or fifty great apes swung rapidly and majestically\nthrough the trees toward the scene of tragedy.\n\nIn the lead was Kala, for she had recognized the tones of her best\nbeloved, and with her was the mother of the little ape who lay dead\nbeneath cruel Sabor.\n\nThough more powerful and better equipped for fighting than the apes,\nthe lioness had no desire to meet these enraged adults, and with a\nsnarl of hatred she sprang quickly into the brush and disappeared.\n\nTarzan now swam to shore and clambered quickly upon dry land.  The\nfeeling of freshness and exhilaration which the cool waters had\nimparted to him, filled his little being with grateful surprise, and\never after he lost no opportunity to take a daily plunge in lake or\nstream or ocean when it was possible to do so.\n\nFor a long time Kala could not accustom herself to the sight; for\nthough her people could swim when forced to it, they did not like to\nenter water, and never did so voluntarily.\n\nThe adventure with the lioness gave Tarzan food for pleasurable\nmemories, for it was such affairs which broke the monotony of his daily\nlife--otherwise but a dull round of searching for food, eating, and\nsleeping.\n\nThe tribe to which he belonged roamed a tract extending, roughly,\ntwenty-five miles along the seacoast and some fifty miles inland.  This\nthey traversed almost continually, occasionally remaining for months in\none locality; but as they moved through the trees with great speed they\noften covered the territory in a very few days.\n\nMuch depended upon food supply, climatic conditions, and the prevalence\nof animals of the more dangerous species; though Kerchak often led them\non long marches for no other reason than that he had tired of remaining\nin the same place.\n\nAt night they slept where darkness overtook them, lying upon the\nground, and sometimes covering their heads, and more seldom their\nbodies, with the great leaves of the elephant's ear.  Two or three\nmight lie cuddled in each other's arms for additional warmth if the\nnight were chill, and thus Tarzan had slept in Kala's arms nightly for\nall these years.\n\nThat the huge, fierce brute loved this child of another race is beyond\nquestion, and he, too, gave to the great, hairy beast all the affection\nthat would have belonged to his fair young mother had she lived.\n\nWhen he was disobedient she cuffed him, it is true, but she was never\ncruel to him, and was more often caressing him than chastising him.\n\nTublat, her mate, always hated Tarzan, and on several occasions had\ncome near ending his youthful career.\n\nTarzan on his part never lost an opportunity to show that he fully\nreciprocated his foster father's sentiments, and whenever he could\nsafely annoy him or make faces at him or hurl insults upon him from the\nsafety of his mother's arms, or the slender branches of the higher\ntrees, he did so.\n\nHis superior intelligence and cunning permitted him to invent a\nthousand diabolical tricks to add to the burdens of Tublat's life.\n\nEarly in his boyhood he had learned to form ropes by twisting and tying\nlong grasses together, and with these he was forever tripping Tublat or\nattempting to hang him from some overhanging branch.\n\nBy constant playing and experimenting with these he learned to tie rude\nknots, and make sliding nooses; and with these he and the younger apes\namused themselves.  What Tarzan did they tried to do also, but he alone\noriginated and became proficient.\n\nOne day while playing thus Tarzan had thrown his rope at one of his\nfleeing companions, retaining the other end in his grasp.  By accident\nthe noose fell squarely about the running ape's neck, bringing him to a\nsudden and surprising halt.\n\nAh, here was a new game, a fine game, thought Tarzan, and immediately\nhe attempted to repeat the trick.  And thus, by painstaking and\ncontinued practice, he learned the art of roping.\n\nNow, indeed, was the life of Tublat a living nightmare.  In sleep, upon\nthe march, night or day, he never knew when that quiet noose would slip\nabout his neck and nearly choke the life out of him.\n\nKala punished, Tublat swore dire vengeance, and old Kerchak took notice\nand warned and threatened; but all to no avail.\n\nTarzan defied them all, and the thin, strong noose continued to settle\nabout Tublat's neck whenever he least expected it.\n\nThe other apes derived unlimited amusement from Tublat's discomfiture,\nfor Broken Nose was a disagreeable old fellow, whom no one liked,\nanyway.\n\nIn Tarzan's clever little mind many thoughts revolved, and back of\nthese was his divine power of reason.\n\nIf he could catch his fellow apes with his long arm of many grasses,\nwhy not Sabor, the lioness?\n\nIt was the germ of a thought, which, however, was destined to mull\naround in his conscious and subconscious mind until it resulted in\nmagnificent achievement.\n\nBut that came in later years.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VI\n\nJungle Battles\n\n\nThe wanderings of the tribe brought them often near the closed and\nsilent cabin by the little land-locked harbor.  To Tarzan this was\nalways a source of never-ending mystery and pleasure.\n\nHe would peek into the curtained windows, or, climbing upon the roof,\npeer down the black depths of the chimney in vain endeavor to solve the\nunknown wonders that lay within those strong walls.\n\nHis child-like imagination pictured wonderful creatures within, and the\nvery impossibility of forcing entrance added a thousandfold to his\ndesire to do so.\n\nHe could clamber about the roof and windows for hours attempting to\ndiscover means of ingress, but to the door he paid little attention,\nfor this was apparently as solid as the walls.\n\nIt was in the next visit to the vicinity, following the adventure with\nold Sabor, that, as he approached the cabin, Tarzan noticed that from a\ndistance the door appeared to be an independent part of the wall in\nwhich it was set, and for the first time it occurred to him that this\nmight prove the means of entrance which had so long eluded him.\n\nHe was alone, as was often the case when he visited the cabin, for the\napes had no love for it; the story of the thunder-stick having lost\nnothing in the telling during these ten years had quite surrounded the\nwhite man's deserted abode with an atmosphere of weirdness and terror\nfor the simians.\n\nThe story of his own connection with the cabin had never been told him.\nThe language of the apes had so few words that they could talk but\nlittle of what they had seen in the cabin, having no words to\naccurately describe either the strange people or their belongings, and\nso, long before Tarzan was old enough to understand, the subject had\nbeen forgotten by the tribe.\n\nOnly in a dim, vague way had Kala explained to him that his father had\nbeen a strange white ape, but he did not know that Kala was not his own\nmother.\n\nOn this day, then, he went directly to the door and spent hours\nexamining it and fussing with the hinges, the knob and the latch.\nFinally he stumbled upon the right combination, and the door swung\ncreakingly open before his astonished eyes.\n\nFor some minutes he did not dare venture within, but finally, as his\neyes became accustomed to the dim light of the interior he slowly and\ncautiously entered.\n\nIn the middle of the floor lay a skeleton, every vestige of flesh gone\nfrom the bones to which still clung the mildewed and moldered remnants\nof what had once been clothing.  Upon the bed lay a similar gruesome\nthing, but smaller, while in a tiny cradle near-by was a third, a wee\nmite of a skeleton.\n\nTo none of these evidences of a fearful tragedy of a long dead day did\nlittle Tarzan give but passing heed.  His wild jungle life had inured\nhim to the sight of dead and dying animals, and had he known that he\nwas looking upon the remains of his own father and mother he would have\nbeen no more greatly moved.\n\nThe furnishings and other contents of the room it was which riveted his\nattention.  He examined many things minutely--strange tools and\nweapons, books, paper, clothing--what little had withstood the ravages\nof time in the humid atmosphere of the jungle coast.\n\nHe opened chests and cupboards, such as did not baffle his small\nexperience, and in these he found the contents much better preserved.\n\nAmong other things he found a sharp hunting knife, on the keen blade of\nwhich he immediately proceeded to cut his finger.  Undaunted he\ncontinued his experiments, finding that he could hack and hew splinters\nof wood from the table and chairs with this new toy.\n\nFor a long time this amused him, but finally tiring he continued his\nexplorations.  In a cupboard filled with books he came across one with\nbrightly colored pictures--it was a child's illustrated alphabet--\n\n              A is for Archer\n              Who shoots with a bow.\n              B is for Boy,\n              His first name is Joe.\n\n\nThe pictures interested him greatly.\n\nThere were many apes with faces similar to his own, and further over in\nthe book he found, under \"M,\" some little monkeys such as he saw daily\nflitting through the trees of his primeval forest.  But nowhere was\npictured any of his own people; in all the book was none that resembled\nKerchak, or Tublat, or Kala.\n\nAt first he tried to pick the little figures from the leaves, but he\nsoon saw that they were not real, though he knew not what they might\nbe, nor had he any words to describe them.\n\nThe boats, and trains, and cows and horses were quite meaningless to\nhim, but not quite so baffling as the odd little figures which appeared\nbeneath and between the colored pictures--some strange kind of bug he\nthought they might be, for many of them had legs though nowhere could\nhe find one with eyes and a mouth.  It was his first introduction to\nthe letters of the alphabet, and he was over ten years old.\n\nOf course he had never before seen print, or ever had spoken with any\nliving thing which had the remotest idea that such a thing as a written\nlanguage existed, nor ever had he seen anyone reading.\n\nSo what wonder that the little boy was quite at a loss to guess the\nmeaning of these strange figures.\n\nNear the middle of the book he found his old enemy, Sabor, the lioness,\nand further on, coiled Histah, the snake.\n\nOh, it was most engrossing!  Never before in all his ten years had he\nenjoyed anything so much.  So absorbed was he that he did not note the\napproaching dusk, until it was quite upon him and the figures were\nblurred.\n\nHe put the book back in the cupboard and closed the door, for he did\nnot wish anyone else to find and destroy his treasure, and as he went\nout into the gathering darkness he closed the great door of the cabin\nbehind him as it had been before he discovered the secret of its lock,\nbut before he left he had noticed the hunting knife lying where he had\nthrown it upon the floor, and this he picked up and took with him to\nshow to his fellows.\n\nHe had taken scarce a dozen steps toward the jungle when a great form\nrose up before him from the shadows of a low bush.  At first he thought\nit was one of his own people but in another instant he realized that it\nwas Bolgani, the huge gorilla.\n\nSo close was he that there was no chance for flight and little Tarzan\nknew that he must stand and fight for his life; for these great beasts\nwere the deadly enemies of his tribe, and neither one nor the other\never asked or gave quarter.\n\nHad Tarzan been a full-grown bull ape of the species of his tribe he\nwould have been more than a match for the gorilla, but being only a\nlittle English boy, though enormously muscular for such, he stood no\nchance against his cruel antagonist.  In his veins, though, flowed the\nblood of the best of a race of mighty fighters, and back of this was\nthe training of his short lifetime among the fierce brutes of the\njungle.\n\nHe knew no fear, as we know it; his little heart beat the faster but\nfrom the excitement and exhilaration of adventure.  Had the opportunity\npresented itself he would have escaped, but solely because his judgment\ntold him he was no match for the great thing which confronted him.  And\nsince reason showed him that successful flight was impossible he met\nthe gorilla squarely and bravely without a tremor of a single muscle,\nor any sign of panic.\n\nIn fact he met the brute midway in its charge, striking its huge body\nwith his closed fists and as futilely as he had been a fly attacking an\nelephant.  But in one hand he still clutched the knife he had found in\nthe cabin of his father, and as the brute, striking and biting, closed\nupon him the boy accidentally turned the point toward the hairy breast.\nAs the knife sank deep into its body the gorilla shrieked in pain and\nrage.\n\nBut the boy had learned in that brief second a use for his sharp and\nshining toy, so that, as the tearing, striking beast dragged him to\nearth he plunged the blade repeatedly and to the hilt into its breast.\n\nThe gorilla, fighting after the manner of its kind, struck terrific\nblows with its open hand, and tore the flesh at the boy's throat and\nchest with its mighty tusks.\n\nFor a moment they rolled upon the ground in the fierce frenzy of\ncombat.  More and more weakly the torn and bleeding arm struck home\nwith the long sharp blade, then the little figure stiffened with a\nspasmodic jerk, and Tarzan, the young Lord Greystoke, rolled\nunconscious upon the dead and decaying vegetation which carpeted his\njungle home.\n\nA mile back in the forest the tribe had heard the fierce challenge of\nthe gorilla, and, as was his custom when any danger threatened, Kerchak\ncalled his people together, partly for mutual protection against a\ncommon enemy, since this gorilla might be but one of a party of\nseveral, and also to see that all members of the tribe were accounted\nfor.\n\nIt was soon discovered that Tarzan was missing, and Tublat was strongly\nopposed to sending assistance.  Kerchak himself had no liking for the\nstrange little waif, so he listened to Tublat, and, finally, with a\nshrug of his shoulders, turned back to the pile of leaves on which he\nhad made his bed.\n\nBut Kala was of a different mind; in fact, she had not waited but to\nlearn that Tarzan was absent ere she was fairly flying through the\nmatted branches toward the point from which the cries of the gorilla\nwere still plainly audible.\n\nDarkness had now fallen, and an early moon was sending its faint light\nto cast strange, grotesque shadows among the dense foliage of the\nforest.\n\nHere and there the brilliant rays penetrated to earth, but for the most\npart they only served to accentuate the Stygian blackness of the\njungle's depths.\n\nLike some huge phantom, Kala swung noiselessly from tree to tree; now\nrunning nimbly along a great branch, now swinging through space at the\nend of another, only to grasp that of a farther tree in her rapid\nprogress toward the scene of the tragedy her knowledge of jungle life\ntold her was being enacted a short distance before her.\n\nThe cries of the gorilla proclaimed that it was in mortal combat with\nsome other denizen of the fierce wood.  Suddenly these cries ceased,\nand the silence of death reigned throughout the jungle.\n\nKala could not understand, for the voice of Bolgani had at last been\nraised in the agony of suffering and death, but no sound had come to\nher by which she possibly could determine the nature of his antagonist.\n\nThat her little Tarzan could destroy a great bull gorilla she knew to\nbe improbable, and so, as she neared the spot from which the sounds of\nthe struggle had come, she moved more warily and at last slowly and\nwith extreme caution she traversed the lowest branches, peering eagerly\ninto the moon-splashed blackness for a sign of the combatants.\n\nPresently she came upon them, lying in a little open space full under\nthe brilliant light of the moon--little Tarzan's torn and bloody form,\nand beside it a great bull gorilla, stone dead.\n\nWith a low cry Kala rushed to Tarzan's side, and gathering the poor,\nblood-covered body to her breast, listened for a sign of life.  Faintly\nshe heard it--the weak beating of the little heart.\n\nTenderly she bore him back through the inky jungle to where the tribe\nlay, and for many days and nights she sat guard beside him, bringing\nhim food and water, and brushing the flies and other insects from his\ncruel wounds.\n\nOf medicine or surgery the poor thing knew nothing.  She could but lick\nthe wounds, and thus she kept them cleansed, that healing nature might\nthe more quickly do her work.\n\nAt first Tarzan would eat nothing, but rolled and tossed in a wild\ndelirium of fever.  All he craved was water, and this she brought him\nin the only way she could, bearing it in her own mouth.\n\nNo human mother could have shown more unselfish and sacrificing\ndevotion than did this poor, wild brute for the little orphaned waif\nwhom fate had thrown into her keeping.\n\nAt last the fever abated and the boy commenced to mend.  No word of\ncomplaint passed his tight set lips, though the pain of his wounds was\nexcruciating.\n\nA portion of his chest was laid bare to the ribs, three of which had\nbeen broken by the mighty blows of the gorilla.  One arm was nearly\nsevered by the giant fangs, and a great piece had been torn from his\nneck, exposing his jugular vein, which the cruel jaws had missed but by\na miracle.\n\nWith the stoicism of the brutes who had raised him he endured his\nsuffering quietly, preferring to crawl away from the others and lie\nhuddled in some clump of tall grasses rather than to show his misery\nbefore their eyes.\n\nKala, alone, he was glad to have with him, but now that he was better\nshe was gone longer at a time, in search of food; for the devoted\nanimal had scarcely eaten enough to support her own life while Tarzan\nhad been so low, and was in consequence, reduced to a mere shadow of\nher former self.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VII\n\nThe Light of Knowledge\n\n\nAfter what seemed an eternity to the little sufferer he was able to\nwalk once more, and from then on his recovery was so rapid that in\nanother month he was as strong and active as ever.\n\nDuring his convalescence he had gone over in his mind many times the\nbattle with the gorilla, and his first thought was to recover the\nwonderful little weapon which had transformed him from a hopelessly\noutclassed weakling to the superior of the mighty terror of the jungle.\n\nAlso, he was anxious to return to the cabin and continue his\ninvestigations of its wondrous contents.\n\nSo, early one morning, he set forth alone upon his quest.  After a\nlittle search he located the clean-picked bones of his late adversary,\nand close by, partly buried beneath the fallen leaves, he found the\nknife, now red with rust from its exposure to the dampness of the\nground and from the dried blood of the gorilla.\n\nHe did not like the change in its former bright and gleaming surface;\nbut it was still a formidable weapon, and one which he meant to use to\nadvantage whenever the opportunity presented itself.  He had in mind\nthat no more would he run from the wanton attacks of old Tublat.\n\nIn another moment he was at the cabin, and after a short time had again\nthrown the latch and entered.  His first concern was to learn the\nmechanism of the lock, and this he did by examining it closely while\nthe door was open, so that he could learn precisely what caused it to\nhold the door, and by what means it released at his touch.\n\nHe found that he could close and lock the door from within, and this he\ndid so that there would be no chance of his being molested while at his\ninvestigation.\n\nHe commenced a systematic search of the cabin; but his attention was\nsoon riveted by the books which seemed to exert a strange and powerful\ninfluence over him, so that he could scarce attend to aught else for\nthe lure of the wondrous puzzle which their purpose presented to him.\n\nAmong the other books were a primer, some child's readers, numerous\npicture books, and a great dictionary.  All of these he examined, but\nthe pictures caught his fancy most, though the strange little bugs\nwhich covered the pages where there were no pictures excited his wonder\nand deepest thought.\n\nSquatting upon his haunches on the table top in the cabin his father\nhad built--his smooth, brown, naked little body bent over the book\nwhich rested in his strong slender hands, and his great shock of long,\nblack hair falling about his well-shaped head and bright, intelligent\neyes--Tarzan of the apes, little primitive man, presented a picture\nfilled, at once, with pathos and with promise--an allegorical figure of\nthe primordial groping through the black night of ignorance toward the\nlight of learning.\n\nHis little face was tense in study, for he had partially grasped, in a\nhazy, nebulous way, the rudiments of a thought which was destined to\nprove the key and the solution to the puzzling problem of the strange\nlittle bugs.\n\nIn his hands was a primer opened at a picture of a little ape similar\nto himself, but covered, except for hands and face, with strange,\ncolored fur, for such he thought the jacket and trousers to be.\nBeneath the picture were three little bugs--\n\n              BOY.\n\n\nAnd now he had discovered in the text upon the page that these three\nwere repeated many times in the same sequence.\n\nAnother fact he learned--that there were comparatively few individual\nbugs; but these were repeated many times, occasionally alone, but more\noften in company with others.\n\nSlowly he turned the pages, scanning the pictures and the text for a\nrepetition of the combination B-O-Y.  Presently he found it beneath a\npicture of another little ape and a strange animal which went upon four\nlegs like the jackal and resembled him not a little.  Beneath this\npicture the bugs appeared as:\n\n              A BOY AND A DOG\n\n\nThere they were, the three little bugs which always accompanied the\nlittle ape.\n\nAnd so he progressed very, very slowly, for it was a hard and laborious\ntask which he had set himself without knowing it--a task which might\nseem to you or me impossible--learning to read without having the\nslightest knowledge of letters or written language, or the faintest\nidea that such things existed.\n\nHe did not accomplish it in a day, or in a week, or in a month, or in a\nyear; but slowly, very slowly, he learned after he had grasped the\npossibilities which lay in those little bugs, so that by the time he\nwas fifteen he knew the various combinations of letters which stood for\nevery pictured figure in the little primer and in one or two of the\npicture books.\n\nOf the meaning and use of the articles and conjunctions, verbs and\nadverbs and pronouns he had but the faintest conception.\n\nOne day when he was about twelve he found a number of lead pencils in a\nhitherto undiscovered drawer beneath the table, and in scratching upon\nthe table top with one of them he was delighted to discover the black\nline it left behind it.\n\nHe worked so assiduously with this new toy that the table top was soon\na mass of scrawly loops and irregular lines and his pencil-point worn\ndown to the wood.  Then he took another pencil, but this time he had a\ndefinite object in view.\n\nHe would attempt to reproduce some of the little bugs that scrambled\nover the pages of his books.\n\nIt was a difficult task, for he held the pencil as one would grasp the\nhilt of a dagger, which does not add greatly to ease in writing or to\nthe legibility of the results.\n\nBut he persevered for months, at such times as he was able to come to\nthe cabin, until at last by repeated experimenting he found a position\nin which to hold the pencil that best permitted him to guide and\ncontrol it, so that at last he could roughly reproduce any of the\nlittle bugs.\n\nThus he made a beginning of writing.\n\nCopying the bugs taught him another thing--their number; and though he\ncould not count as we understand it, yet he had an idea of quantity,\nthe base of his calculations being the number of fingers upon one of\nhis hands.\n\nHis search through the various books convinced him that he had\ndiscovered all the different kinds of bugs most often repeated in\ncombination, and these he arranged in proper order with great ease\nbecause of the frequency with which he had perused the fascinating\nalphabet picture book.\n\nHis education progressed; but his greatest finds were in the\ninexhaustible storehouse of the huge illustrated dictionary, for he\nlearned more through the medium of pictures than text, even after he\nhad grasped the significance of the bugs.\n\nWhen he discovered the arrangement of words in alphabetical order he\ndelighted in searching for and finding the combinations with which he\nwas familiar, and the words which followed them, their definitions, led\nhim still further into the mazes of erudition.\n\nBy the time he was seventeen he had learned to read the simple, child's\nprimer and had fully realized the true and wonderful purpose of the\nlittle bugs.\n\nNo longer did he feel shame for his hairless body or his human\nfeatures, for now his reason told him that he was of a different race\nfrom his wild and hairy companions.  He was a M-A-N, they were A-P-E-S,\nand the little apes which scurried through the forest top were\nM-O-N-K-E-Y-S.  He knew, too, that old Sabor was a L-I-O-N-E-S-S, and\nHistah a S-N-A-K-E, and Tantor an E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T.  And so he learned\nto read.  From then on his progress was rapid.  With the help of the\ngreat dictionary and the active intelligence of a healthy mind endowed\nby inheritance with more than ordinary reasoning powers he shrewdly\nguessed at much which he could not really understand, and more often\nthan not his guesses were close to the mark of truth.\n\nThere were many breaks in his education, caused by the migratory habits\nof his tribe, but even when removed from his books his active brain\ncontinued to search out the mysteries of his fascinating avocation.\n\nPieces of bark and flat leaves and even smooth stretches of bare earth\nprovided him with copy books whereon to scratch with the point of his\nhunting knife the lessons he was learning.\n\nNor did he neglect the sterner duties of life while following the bent\nof his inclination toward the solving of the mystery of his library.\n\nHe practiced with his rope and played with his sharp knife, which he\nhad learned to keep keen by whetting upon flat stones.\n\nThe tribe had grown larger since Tarzan had come among them, for under\nthe leadership of Kerchak they had been able to frighten the other\ntribes from their part of the jungle so that they had plenty to eat and\nlittle or no loss from predatory incursions of neighbors.\n\nHence the younger males as they became adult found it more comfortable\nto take mates from their own tribe, or if they captured one of another\ntribe to bring her back to Kerchak's band and live in amity with him\nrather than attempt to set up new establishments of their own, or fight\nwith the redoubtable Kerchak for supremacy at home.\n\nOccasionally one more ferocious than his fellows would attempt this\nlatter alternative, but none had come yet who could wrest the palm of\nvictory from the fierce and brutal ape.\n\nTarzan held a peculiar position in the tribe.  They seemed to consider\nhim one of them and yet in some way different.  The older males either\nignored him entirely or else hated him so vindictively that but for his\nwondrous agility and speed and the fierce protection of the huge Kala\nhe would have been dispatched at an early age.\n\nTublat was his most consistent enemy, but it was through Tublat that,\nwhen he was about thirteen, the persecution of his enemies suddenly\nceased and he was left severely alone, except on the occasions when one\nof them ran amuck in the throes of one of those strange, wild fits of\ninsane rage which attacks the males of many of the fiercer animals of\nthe jungle.  Then none was safe.\n\nOn the day that Tarzan established his right to respect, the tribe was\ngathered about a small natural amphitheater which the jungle had left\nfree from its entangling vines and creepers in a hollow among some low\nhills.\n\nThe open space was almost circular in shape.  Upon every hand rose the\nmighty giants of the untouched forest, with the matted undergrowth\nbanked so closely between the huge trunks that the only opening into\nthe little, level arena was through the upper branches of the trees.\n\nHere, safe from interruption, the tribe often gathered.  In the center\nof the amphitheater was one of those strange earthen drums which the\nanthropoids build for the queer rites the sounds of which men have\nheard in the fastnesses of the jungle, but which none has ever\nwitnessed.\n\nMany travelers have seen the drums of the great apes, and some have\nheard the sounds of their beating and the noise of the wild, weird\nrevelry of these first lords of the jungle, but Tarzan, Lord Greystoke,\nis, doubtless, the only human being who ever joined in the fierce, mad,\nintoxicating revel of the Dum-Dum.\n\nFrom this primitive function has arisen, unquestionably, all the forms\nand ceremonials of modern church and state, for through all the\ncountless ages, back beyond the uttermost ramparts of a dawning\nhumanity our fierce, hairy forebears danced out the rites of the\nDum-Dum to the sound of their earthen drums, beneath the bright light\nof a tropical moon in the depth of a mighty jungle which stands\nunchanged today as it stood on that long forgotten night in the dim,\nunthinkable vistas of the long dead past when our first shaggy ancestor\nswung from a swaying bough and dropped lightly upon the soft turf of\nthe first meeting place.\n\nOn the day that Tarzan won his emancipation from the persecution that\nhad followed him remorselessly for twelve of his thirteen years of\nlife, the tribe, now a full hundred strong, trooped silently through\nthe lower terrace of the jungle trees and dropped noiselessly upon the\nfloor of the amphitheater.\n\nThe rites of the Dum-Dum marked important events in the life of the\ntribe--a victory, the capture of a prisoner, the killing of some large\nfierce denizen of the jungle, the death or accession of a king, and\nwere conducted with set ceremonialism.\n\nToday it was the killing of a giant ape, a member of another tribe, and\nas the people of Kerchak entered the arena two mighty bulls were seen\nbearing the body of the vanquished between them.\n\nThey laid their burden before the earthen drum and then squatted there\nbeside it as guards, while the other members of the community curled\nthemselves in grassy nooks to sleep until the rising moon should give\nthe signal for the commencement of their savage orgy.\n\nFor hours absolute quiet reigned in the little clearing, except as it\nwas broken by the discordant notes of brilliantly feathered parrots, or\nthe screeching and twittering of the thousand jungle birds flitting\nceaselessly amongst the vivid orchids and flamboyant blossoms which\nfestooned the myriad, moss-covered branches of the forest kings.\n\nAt length as darkness settled upon the jungle the apes commenced to\nbestir themselves, and soon they formed a great circle about the\nearthen drum.  The females and young squatted in a thin line at the\nouter periphery of the circle, while just in front of them ranged the\nadult males.  Before the drum sat three old females, each armed with a\nknotted branch fifteen or eighteen inches in length.\n\nSlowly and softly they began tapping upon the resounding surface of the\ndrum as the first faint rays of the ascending moon silvered the\nencircling tree tops.\n\nAs the light in the amphitheater increased the females augmented the\nfrequency and force of their blows until presently a wild, rhythmic din\npervaded the great jungle for miles in every direction.  Huge, fierce\nbrutes stopped in their hunting, with up-pricked ears and raised heads,\nto listen to the dull booming that betokened the Dum-Dum of the apes.\n\nOccasionally one would raise his shrill scream or thunderous roar in\nanswering challenge to the savage din of the anthropoids, but none came\nnear to investigate or attack, for the great apes, assembled in all the\npower of their numbers, filled the breasts of their jungle neighbors\nwith deep respect.\n\nAs the din of the drum rose to almost deafening volume Kerchak sprang\ninto the open space between the squatting males and the drummers.\n\nStanding erect he threw his head far back and looking full into the eye\nof the rising moon he beat upon his breast with his great hairy paws\nand emitted his fearful roaring shriek.\n\nOne--twice--thrice that terrifying cry rang out across the teeming\nsolitude of that unspeakably quick, yet unthinkably dead, world.\n\nThen, crouching, Kerchak slunk noiselessly around the open circle,\nveering far away from the dead body lying before the altar-drum, but,\nas he passed, keeping his little, fierce, wicked, red eyes upon the\ncorpse.\n\nAnother male then sprang into the arena, and, repeating the horrid\ncries of his king, followed stealthily in his wake.  Another and\nanother followed in quick succession until the jungle reverberated with\nthe now almost ceaseless notes of their bloodthirsty screams.\n\nIt was the challenge and the hunt.\n\nWhen all the adult males had joined in the thin line of circling\ndancers the attack commenced.\n\nKerchak, seizing a huge club from the pile which lay at hand for the\npurpose, rushed furiously upon the dead ape, dealing the corpse a\nterrific blow, at the same time emitting the growls and snarls of\ncombat.  The din of the drum was now increased, as well as the\nfrequency of the blows, and the warriors, as each approached the victim\nof the hunt and delivered his bludgeon blow, joined in the mad whirl of\nthe Death Dance.\n\nTarzan was one of the wild, leaping horde.  His brown, sweat-streaked,\nmuscular body, glistening in the moonlight, shone supple and graceful\namong the uncouth, awkward, hairy brutes about him.\n\nNone was more stealthy in the mimic hunt, none more ferocious than he\nin the wild ferocity of the attack, none who leaped so high into the\nair in the Dance of Death.\n\nAs the noise and rapidity of the drumbeats increased the dancers\napparently became intoxicated with the wild rhythm and the savage\nyells.  Their leaps and bounds increased, their bared fangs dripped\nsaliva, and their lips and breasts were flecked with foam.\n\nFor half an hour the weird dance went on, until, at a sign from\nKerchak, the noise of the drums ceased, the female drummers scampering\nhurriedly through the line of dancers toward the outer rim of squatting\nspectators.  Then, as one, the males rushed headlong upon the thing\nwhich their terrific blows had reduced to a mass of hairy pulp.\n\nFlesh seldom came to their jaws in satisfying quantities, so a fit\nfinale to their wild revel was a taste of fresh killed meat, and it was\nto the purpose of devouring their late enemy that they now turned their\nattention.\n\nGreat fangs sunk into the carcass tearing away huge hunks, the\nmightiest of the apes obtaining the choicest morsels, while the weaker\ncircled the outer edge of the fighting, snarling pack awaiting their\nchance to dodge in and snatch a dropped tidbit or filch a remaining\nbone before all was gone.\n\nTarzan, more than the apes, craved and needed flesh.  Descended from a\nrace of meat eaters, never in his life, he thought, had he once\nsatisfied his appetite for animal food; and so now his agile little\nbody wormed its way far into the mass of struggling, rending apes in an\nendeavor to obtain a share which his strength would have been unequal\nto the task of winning for him.\n\nAt his side hung the hunting knife of his unknown father in a sheath\nself-fashioned in copy of one he had seen among the pictures of his\ntreasure-books.\n\nAt last he reached the fast disappearing feast and with his sharp knife\nslashed off a more generous portion than he had hoped for, an entire\nhairy forearm, where it protruded from beneath the feet of the mighty\nKerchak, who was so busily engaged in perpetuating the royal\nprerogative of gluttony that he failed to note the act of LESE-MAJESTE.\n\nSo little Tarzan wriggled out from beneath the struggling mass,\nclutching his grisly prize close to his breast.\n\nAmong those circling futilely the outskirts of the banqueters was old\nTublat.  He had been among the first at the feast, but had retreated\nwith a goodly share to eat in quiet, and was now forcing his way back\nfor more.\n\nSo it was that he spied Tarzan as the boy emerged from the clawing,\npushing throng with that hairy forearm hugged firmly to his body.\n\nTublat's little, close-set, bloodshot, pig-eyes shot wicked gleams of\nhate as they fell upon the object of his loathing.  In them, too, was\ngreed for the toothsome dainty the boy carried.\n\nBut Tarzan saw his arch enemy as quickly, and divining what the great\nbeast would do he leaped nimbly away toward the females and the young,\nhoping to hide himself among them.  Tublat, however, was close upon his\nheels, so that he had no opportunity to seek a place of concealment,\nbut saw that he would be put to it to escape at all.\n\nSwiftly he sped toward the surrounding trees and with an agile bound\ngained a lower limb with one hand, and then, transferring his burden to\nhis teeth, he climbed rapidly upward, closely followed by Tublat.\n\nUp, up he went to the waving pinnacle of a lofty monarch of the forest\nwhere his heavy pursuer dared not follow him.  There he perched,\nhurling taunts and insults at the raging, foaming beast fifty feet\nbelow him.\n\nAnd then Tublat went mad.\n\nWith horrifying screams and roars he rushed to the ground, among the\nfemales and young, sinking his great fangs into a dozen tiny necks and\ntearing great pieces from the backs and breasts of the females who fell\ninto his clutches.\n\nIn the brilliant moonlight Tarzan witnessed the whole mad carnival of\nrage.  He saw the females and the young scamper to the safety of the\ntrees.  Then the great bulls in the center of the arena felt the mighty\nfangs of their demented fellow, and with one accord they melted into\nthe black shadows of the overhanging forest.\n\nThere was but one in the amphitheater beside Tublat, a belated female\nrunning swiftly toward the tree where Tarzan perched, and close behind\nher came the awful Tublat.\n\nIt was Kala, and as quickly as Tarzan saw that Tublat was gaining on\nher he dropped with the rapidity of a falling stone, from branch to\nbranch, toward his foster mother.\n\nNow she was beneath the overhanging limbs and close above her crouched\nTarzan, waiting the outcome of the race.\n\nShe leaped into the air grasping a low-hanging branch, but almost over\nthe head of Tublat, so nearly had he distanced her.  She should have\nbeen safe now but there was a rending, tearing sound, the branch broke\nand precipitated her full upon the head of Tublat, knocking him to the\nground.\n\nBoth were up in an instant, but as quick as they had been Tarzan had\nbeen quicker, so that the infuriated bull found himself facing the\nman-child who stood between him and Kala.\n\nNothing could have suited the fierce beast better, and with a roar of\ntriumph he leaped upon the little Lord Greystoke.  But his fangs never\nclosed in that nut brown flesh.\n\nA muscular hand shot out and grasped the hairy throat, and another\nplunged a keen hunting knife a dozen times into the broad breast.  Like\nlightning the blows fell, and only ceased when Tarzan felt the limp\nform crumple beneath him.\n\nAs the body rolled to the ground Tarzan of the Apes placed his foot\nupon the neck of his lifelong enemy and, raising his eyes to the full\nmoon, threw back his fierce young head and voiced the wild and terrible\ncry of his people.\n\nOne by one the tribe swung down from their arboreal retreats and formed\na circle about Tarzan and his vanquished foe.  When they had all come\nTarzan turned toward them.\n\n\"I am Tarzan,\" he cried.  \"I am a great killer.  Let all respect Tarzan\nof the Apes and Kala, his mother.  There be none among you as mighty as\nTarzan.  Let his enemies beware.\"\n\nLooking full into the wicked, red eyes of Kerchak, the young Lord\nGreystoke beat upon his mighty breast and screamed out once more his\nshrill cry of defiance.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VIII\n\nThe Tree-top Hunter\n\n\nThe morning after the Dum-Dum the tribe started slowly back through the\nforest toward the coast.\n\nThe body of Tublat lay where it had fallen, for the people of Kerchak\ndo not eat their own dead.\n\nThe march was but a leisurely search for food.  Cabbage palm and gray\nplum, pisang and scitamine they found in abundance, with wild\npineapple, and occasionally small mammals, birds, eggs, reptiles, and\ninsects.  The nuts they cracked between their powerful jaws, or, if too\nhard, broke by pounding between stones.\n\nOnce old Sabor, crossing their path, sent them scurrying to the safety\nof the higher branches, for if she respected their number and their\nsharp fangs, they on their part held her cruel and mighty ferocity in\nequal esteem.\n\nUpon a low-hanging branch sat Tarzan directly above the majestic,\nsupple body as it forged silently through the thick jungle.  He hurled\na pineapple at the ancient enemy of his people.  The great beast\nstopped and, turning, eyed the taunting figure above her.\n\nWith an angry lash of her tail she bared her yellow fangs, curling her\ngreat lips in a hideous snarl that wrinkled her bristling snout in\nserried ridges and closed her wicked eyes to two narrow slits of rage\nand hatred.\n\nWith back-laid ears she looked straight into the eyes of Tarzan of the\nApes and sounded her fierce, shrill challenge.  And from the safety of\nhis overhanging limb the ape-child sent back the fearsome answer of his\nkind.\n\nFor a moment the two eyed each other in silence, and then the great cat\nturned into the jungle, which swallowed her as the ocean engulfs a\ntossed pebble.\n\nBut into the mind of Tarzan a great plan sprang.  He had killed the\nfierce Tublat, so was he not therefore a mighty fighter?  Now would he\ntrack down the crafty Sabor and slay her likewise.  He would be a\nmighty hunter, also.\n\nAt the bottom of his little English heart beat the great desire to\ncover his nakedness with CLOTHES for he had learned from his picture\nbooks that all MEN were so covered, while MONKEYS and APES and every\nother living thing went naked.\n\nCLOTHES therefore, must be truly a badge of greatness; the insignia of\nthe superiority of MAN over all other animals, for surely there could\nbe no other reason for wearing the hideous things.\n\nMany moons ago, when he had been much smaller, he had desired the skin\nof Sabor, the lioness, or Numa, the lion, or Sheeta, the leopard to\ncover his hairless body that he might no longer resemble hideous\nHistah, the snake; but now he was proud of his sleek skin for it\nbetokened his descent from a mighty race, and the conflicting desires\nto go naked in prideful proof of his ancestry, or to conform to the\ncustoms of his own kind and wear hideous and uncomfortable apparel\nfound first one and then the other in the ascendency.\n\nAs the tribe continued their slow way through the forest after the\npassing of Sabor, Tarzan's head was filled with his great scheme for\nslaying his enemy, and for many days thereafter he thought of little\nelse.\n\nOn this day, however, he presently had other and more immediate\ninterests to attract his attention.\n\nSuddenly it became as midnight; the noises of the jungle ceased; the\ntrees stood motionless as though in paralyzed expectancy of some great\nand imminent disaster.  All nature waited--but not for long.\n\nFaintly, from a distance, came a low, sad moaning.  Nearer and nearer\nit approached, mounting louder and louder in volume.\n\nThe great trees bent in unison as though pressed earthward by a mighty\nhand.  Farther and farther toward the ground they inclined, and still\nthere was no sound save the deep and awesome moaning of the wind.\n\nThen, suddenly, the jungle giants whipped back, lashing their mighty\ntops in angry and deafening protest.  A vivid and blinding light\nflashed from the whirling, inky clouds above.  The deep cannonade of\nroaring thunder belched forth its fearsome challenge.  The deluge\ncame--all hell broke loose upon the jungle.\n\nThe tribe shivering from the cold rain, huddled at the bases of great\ntrees.  The lightning, darting and flashing through the blackness,\nshowed wildly waving branches, whipping streamers and bending trunks.\n\nNow and again some ancient patriarch of the woods, rent by a flashing\nbolt, would crash in a thousand pieces among the surrounding trees,\ncarrying down numberless branches and many smaller neighbors to add to\nthe tangled confusion of the tropical jungle.\n\nBranches, great and small, torn away by the ferocity of the tornado,\nhurtled through the wildly waving verdure, carrying death and\ndestruction to countless unhappy denizens of the thickly peopled world\nbelow.\n\nFor hours the fury of the storm continued without surcease, and still\nthe tribe huddled close in shivering fear.  In constant danger from\nfalling trunks and branches and paralyzed by the vivid flashing of\nlightning and the bellowing of thunder they crouched in pitiful misery\nuntil the storm passed.\n\nThe end was as sudden as the beginning.  The wind ceased, the sun shone\nforth--nature smiled once more.\n\nThe dripping leaves and branches, and the moist petals of gorgeous\nflowers glistened in the splendor of the returning day.  And, so--as\nNature forgot, her children forgot also.  Busy life went on as it had\nbeen before the darkness and the fright.\n\nBut to Tarzan a dawning light had come to explain the mystery of\nCLOTHES.  How snug he would have been beneath the heavy coat of Sabor!\nAnd so was added a further incentive to the adventure.\n\nFor several months the tribe hovered near the beach where stood\nTarzan's cabin, and his studies took up the greater portion of his\ntime, but always when journeying through the forest he kept his rope in\nreadiness, and many were the smaller animals that fell into the snare\nof the quick thrown noose.\n\nOnce it fell about the short neck of Horta, the boar, and his mad lunge\nfor freedom toppled Tarzan from the overhanging limb where he had lain\nin wait and from whence he had launched his sinuous coil.\n\nThe mighty tusker turned at the sound of his falling body, and, seeing\nonly the easy prey of a young ape, he lowered his head and charged\nmadly at the surprised youth.\n\nTarzan, happily, was uninjured by the fall, alighting catlike upon all\nfours far outspread to take up the shock.  He was on his feet in an\ninstant and, leaping with the agility of the monkey he was, he gained\nthe safety of a low limb as Horta, the boar, rushed futilely beneath.\n\nThus it was that Tarzan learned by experience the limitations as well\nas the possibilities of his strange weapon.\n\nHe lost a long rope on this occasion, but he knew that had it been\nSabor who had thus dragged him from his perch the outcome might have\nbeen very different, for he would have lost his life, doubtless, into\nthe bargain.\n\nIt took him many days to braid a new rope, but when, finally, it was\ndone he went forth purposely to hunt, and lie in wait among the dense\nfoliage of a great branch right above the well-beaten trail that led to\nwater.\n\nSeveral small animals passed unharmed beneath him.  He did not want\nsuch insignificant game.  It would take a strong animal to test the\nefficacy of his new scheme.\n\nAt last came she whom Tarzan sought, with lithe sinews rolling beneath\nshimmering hide; fat and glossy came Sabor, the lioness.\n\nHer great padded feet fell soft and noiseless on the narrow trail.  Her\nhead was high in ever alert attention; her long tail moved slowly in\nsinuous and graceful undulations.\n\nNearer and nearer she came to where Tarzan of the Apes crouched upon\nhis limb, the coils of his long rope poised ready in his hand.\n\nLike a thing of bronze, motionless as death, sat Tarzan.  Sabor passed\nbeneath.  One stride beyond she took--a second, a third, and then the\nsilent coil shot out above her.\n\nFor an instant the spreading noose hung above her head like a great\nsnake, and then, as she looked upward to detect the origin of the\nswishing sound of the rope, it settled about her neck.  With a quick\njerk Tarzan snapped the noose tight about the glossy throat, and then\nhe dropped the rope and clung to his support with both hands.\n\nSabor was trapped.\n\nWith a bound the startled beast turned into the jungle, but Tarzan was\nnot to lose another rope through the same cause as the first.  He had\nlearned from experience.  The lioness had taken but half her second\nbound when she felt the rope tighten about her neck; her body turned\ncompletely over in the air and she fell with a heavy crash upon her\nback.  Tarzan had fastened the end of the rope securely to the trunk of\nthe great tree on which he sat.\n\nThus far his plan had worked to perfection, but when he grasped the\nrope, bracing himself behind a crotch of two mighty branches, he found\nthat dragging the mighty, struggling, clawing, biting, screaming mass\nof iron-muscled fury up to the tree and hanging her was a very\ndifferent proposition.\n\nThe weight of old Sabor was immense, and when she braced her huge paws\nnothing less than Tantor, the elephant, himself, could have budged her.\n\nThe lioness was now back in the path where she could see the author of\nthe indignity which had been placed upon her.  Screaming with rage she\nsuddenly charged, leaping high into the air toward Tarzan, but when her\nhuge body struck the limb on which Tarzan had been, Tarzan was no\nlonger there.\n\nInstead he perched lightly upon a smaller branch twenty feet above the\nraging captive.  For a moment Sabor hung half across the branch, while\nTarzan mocked, and hurled twigs and branches at her unprotected face.\n\nPresently the beast dropped to the earth again and Tarzan came quickly\nto seize the rope, but Sabor had now found that it was only a slender\ncord that held her, and grasping it in her huge jaws severed it before\nTarzan could tighten the strangling noose a second time.\n\nTarzan was much hurt.  His well-laid plan had come to naught, so he sat\nthere screaming at the roaring creature beneath him and making mocking\ngrimaces at it.\n\nSabor paced back and forth beneath the tree for hours; four times she\ncrouched and sprang at the dancing sprite above her, but might as well\nhave clutched at the illusive wind that murmured through the tree tops.\n\nAt last Tarzan tired of the sport, and with a parting roar of challenge\nand a well-aimed ripe fruit that spread soft and sticky over the\nsnarling face of his enemy, he swung rapidly through the trees, a\nhundred feet above the ground, and in a short time was among the\nmembers of his tribe.\n\nHere he recounted the details of his adventure, with swelling chest and\nso considerable swagger that he quite impressed even his bitterest\nenemies, while Kala fairly danced for joy and pride.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IX\n\nMan and Man\n\n\nTarzan of the Apes lived on in his wild, jungle existence with little\nchange for several years, only that he grew stronger and wiser, and\nlearned from his books more and more of the strange worlds which lay\nsomewhere outside his primeval forest.\n\nTo him life was never monotonous or stale.  There was always Pisah, the\nfish, to be caught in the many streams and the little lakes, and Sabor,\nwith her ferocious cousins to keep one ever on the alert and give zest\nto every instant that one spent upon the ground.\n\nOften they hunted him, and more often he hunted them, but though they\nnever quite reached him with those cruel, sharp claws of theirs, yet\nthere were times when one could scarce have passed a thick leaf between\ntheir talons and his smooth hide.\n\nQuick was Sabor, the lioness, and quick were Numa and Sheeta, but\nTarzan of the Apes was lightning.\n\nWith Tantor, the elephant, he made friends.  How?  Ask not.  But this\nis known to the denizens of the jungle, that on many moonlight nights\nTarzan of the Apes and Tantor, the elephant, walked together, and where\nthe way was clear Tarzan rode, perched high upon Tantor's mighty back.\n\nMany days during these years he spent in the cabin of his father, where\nstill lay, untouched, the bones of his parents and the skeleton of\nKala's baby.  At eighteen he read fluently and understood nearly all he\nread in the many and varied volumes on the shelves.\n\nAlso could he write, with printed letters, rapidly and plainly, but\nscript he had not mastered, for though there were several copy books\namong his treasure, there was so little written English in the cabin\nthat he saw no use for bothering with this other form of writing,\nthough he could read it, laboriously.\n\nThus, at eighteen, we find him, an English lordling, who could speak no\nEnglish, and yet who could read and write his native language.  Never\nhad he seen a human being other than himself, for the little area\ntraversed by his tribe was watered by no greater river to bring down\nthe savage natives of the interior.\n\nHigh hills shut it off on three sides, the ocean on the fourth.  It was\nalive with lions and leopards and poisonous snakes.  Its untouched\nmazes of matted jungle had as yet invited no hardy pioneer from the\nhuman beasts beyond its frontier.\n\nBut as Tarzan of the Apes sat one day in the cabin of his father\ndelving into the mysteries of a new book, the ancient security of his\njungle was broken forever.\n\nAt the far eastern confine a strange cavalcade strung, in single file,\nover the brow of a low hill.\n\nIn advance were fifty black warriors armed with slender wooden spears\nwith ends hard baked over slow fires, and long bows and poisoned\narrows.  On their backs were oval shields, in their noses huge rings,\nwhile from the kinky wool of their heads protruded tufts of gay\nfeathers.\n\nAcross their foreheads were tattooed three parallel lines of color, and\non each breast three concentric circles.  Their yellow teeth were filed\nto sharp points, and their great protruding lips added still further to\nthe low and bestial brutishness of their appearance.\n\nFollowing them were several hundred women and children, the former\nbearing upon their heads great burdens of cooking pots, household\nutensils and ivory.  In the rear were a hundred warriors, similar in\nall respects to the advance guard.\n\nThat they more greatly feared an attack from the rear than whatever\nunknown enemies lurked in their advance was evidenced by the formation\nof the column; and such was the fact, for they were fleeing from the\nwhite man's soldiers who had so harassed them for rubber and ivory that\nthey had turned upon their conquerors one day and massacred a white\nofficer and a small detachment of his black troops.\n\nFor many days they had gorged themselves on meat, but eventually a\nstronger body of troops had come and fallen upon their village by night\nto revenge the death of their comrades.\n\nThat night the black soldiers of the white man had had meat a-plenty,\nand this little remnant of a once powerful tribe had slunk off into the\ngloomy jungle toward the unknown, and freedom.\n\nBut that which meant freedom and the pursuit of happiness to these\nsavage blacks meant consternation and death to many of the wild\ndenizens of their new home.\n\nFor three days the little cavalcade marched slowly through the heart of\nthis unknown and untracked forest, until finally, early in the fourth\nday, they came upon a little spot near the banks of a small river,\nwhich seemed less thickly overgrown than any ground they had yet\nencountered.\n\nHere they set to work to build a new village, and in a month a great\nclearing had been made, huts and palisades erected, plantains, yams and\nmaize planted, and they had taken up their old life in their new home.\nHere there were no white men, no soldiers, nor any rubber or ivory to\nbe gathered for cruel and thankless taskmasters.\n\nSeveral moons passed by ere the blacks ventured far into the territory\nsurrounding their new village.  Several had already fallen prey to old\nSabor, and because the jungle was so infested with these fierce and\nbloodthirsty cats, and with lions and leopards, the ebony warriors\nhesitated to trust themselves far from the safety of their palisades.\n\nBut one day, Kulonga, a son of the old king, Mbonga, wandered far into\nthe dense mazes to the west.  Warily he stepped, his slender lance ever\nready, his long oval shield firmly grasped in his left hand close to\nhis sleek ebony body.\n\nAt his back his bow, and in the quiver upon his shield many slim,\nstraight arrows, well smeared with the thick, dark, tarry substance\nthat rendered deadly their tiniest needle prick.\n\nNight found Kulonga far from the palisades of his father's village, but\nstill headed westward, and climbing into the fork of a great tree he\nfashioned a rude platform and curled himself for sleep.\n\nThree miles to the west slept the tribe of Kerchak.\n\nEarly the next morning the apes were astir, moving through the jungle\nin search of food.  Tarzan, as was his custom, prosecuted his search in\nthe direction of the cabin so that by leisurely hunting on the way his\nstomach was filled by the time he reached the beach.\n\nThe apes scattered by ones, and twos, and threes in all directions, but\never within sound of a signal of alarm.\n\nKala had moved slowly along an elephant track toward the east, and was\nbusily engaged in turning over rotted limbs and logs in search of\nsucculent bugs and fungi, when the faintest shadow of a strange noise\nbrought her to startled attention.\n\nFor fifty yards before her the trail was straight, and down this leafy\ntunnel she saw the stealthy advancing figure of a strange and fearful\ncreature.\n\nIt was Kulonga.\n\nKala did not wait to see more, but, turning, moved rapidly back along\nthe trail.  She did not run; but, after the manner of her kind when not\naroused, sought rather to avoid than to escape.\n\nClose after her came Kulonga.  Here was meat.  He could make a killing\nand feast well this day.  On he hurried, his spear poised for the throw.\n\nAt a turning of the trail he came in sight of her again upon another\nstraight stretch.  His spear hand went far back, the muscles rolled,\nlightning-like, beneath the sleek hide.  Out shot the arm, and the\nspear sped toward Kala.\n\nA poor cast.  It but grazed her side.\n\nWith a cry of rage and pain the she-ape turned upon her tormentor.  In\nan instant the trees were crashing beneath the weight of her hurrying\nfellows, swinging rapidly toward the scene of trouble in answer to\nKala's scream.\n\nAs she charged, Kulonga unslung his bow and fitted an arrow with almost\nunthinkable quickness.  Drawing the shaft far back he drove the\npoisoned missile straight into the heart of the great anthropoid.\n\nWith a horrid scream Kala plunged forward upon her face before the\nastonished members of her tribe.\n\nRoaring and shrieking the apes dashed toward Kulonga, but that wary\nsavage was fleeing down the trail like a frightened antelope.\n\nHe knew something of the ferocity of these wild, hairy men, and his one\ndesire was to put as many miles between himself and them as he possibly\ncould.\n\nThey followed him, racing through the trees, for a long distance, but\nfinally one by one they abandoned the chase and returned to the scene\nof the tragedy.\n\nNone of them had ever seen a man before, other than Tarzan, and so they\nwondered vaguely what strange manner of creature it might be that had\ninvaded their jungle.\n\nOn the far beach by the little cabin Tarzan heard the faint echoes of\nthe conflict and knowing that something was seriously amiss among the\ntribe he hastened rapidly toward the direction of the sound.\n\nWhen he arrived he found the entire tribe gathered jabbering about the\ndead body of his slain mother.\n\nTarzan's grief and anger were unbounded.  He roared out his hideous\nchallenge time and again.  He beat upon his great chest with his\nclenched fists, and then he fell upon the body of Kala and sobbed out\nthe pitiful sorrowing of his lonely heart.\n\nTo lose the only creature in all his world who ever had manifested love\nand affection for him was the greatest tragedy he had ever known.\n\nWhat though Kala was a fierce and hideous ape!  To Tarzan she had been\nkind, she had been beautiful.\n\nUpon her he had lavished, unknown to himself, all the reverence and\nrespect and love that a normal English boy feels for his own mother.\nHe had never known another, and so to Kala was given, though mutely,\nall that would have belonged to the fair and lovely Lady Alice had she\nlived.\n\nAfter the first outburst of grief Tarzan controlled himself, and\nquestioning the members of the tribe who had witnessed the killing of\nKala he learned all that their meager vocabulary could convey.\n\nIt was enough, however, for his needs.  It told him of a strange,\nhairless, black ape with feathers growing upon its head, who launched\ndeath from a slender branch, and then ran, with the fleetness of Bara,\nthe deer, toward the rising sun.\n\nTarzan waited no longer, but leaping into the branches of the trees\nsped rapidly through the forest.  He knew the windings of the elephant\ntrail along which Kala's murderer had flown, and so he cut straight\nthrough the jungle to intercept the black warrior who was evidently\nfollowing the tortuous detours of the trail.\n\nAt his side was the hunting knife of his unknown sire, and across his\nshoulders the coils of his own long rope.  In an hour he struck the\ntrail again, and coming to earth examined the soil minutely.\n\nIn the soft mud on the bank of a tiny rivulet he found footprints such\nas he alone in all the jungle had ever made, but much larger than his.\nHis heart beat fast.  Could it be that he was trailing a MAN--one of\nhis own race?\n\nThere were two sets of imprints pointing in opposite directions.  So\nhis quarry had already passed on his return along the trail.  As he\nexamined the newer spoor a tiny particle of earth toppled from the\nouter edge of one of the footprints to the bottom of its shallow\ndepression--ah, the trail was very fresh, his prey must have but\nscarcely passed.\n\nTarzan swung himself to the trees once more, and with swift\nnoiselessness sped along high above the trail.\n\nHe had covered barely a mile when he came upon the black warrior\nstanding in a little open space.  In his hand was his slender bow to\nwhich he had fitted one of his death dealing arrows.\n\nOpposite him across the little clearing stood Horta, the boar, with\nlowered head and foam flecked tusks, ready to charge.\n\nTarzan looked with wonder upon the strange creature beneath him--so\nlike him in form and yet so different in face and color.  His books had\nportrayed the NEGRO, but how different had been the dull, dead print to\nthis sleek thing of ebony, pulsing with life.\n\nAs the man stood there with taut drawn bow Tarzan recognized him not so\nmuch the NEGRO as the ARCHER of his picture book--\n\n              A stands for Archer\n\n\nHow wonderful!  Tarzan almost betrayed his presence in the deep\nexcitement of his discovery.\n\nBut things were commencing to happen below him.  The sinewy black arm\nhad drawn the shaft far back; Horta, the boar, was charging, and then\nthe black released the little poisoned arrow, and Tarzan saw it fly\nwith the quickness of thought and lodge in the bristling neck of the\nboar.\n\nScarcely had the shaft left his bow ere Kulonga had fitted another to\nit, but Horta, the boar, was upon him so quickly that he had no time to\ndischarge it.  With a bound the black leaped entirely over the rushing\nbeast and turning with incredible swiftness planted a second arrow in\nHorta's back.\n\nThen Kulonga sprang into a near-by tree.\n\nHorta wheeled to charge his enemy once more; a dozen steps he took,\nthen he staggered and fell upon his side.  For a moment his muscles\nstiffened and relaxed convulsively, then he lay still.\n\nKulonga came down from his tree.\n\nWith a knife that hung at his side he cut several large pieces from the\nboar's body, and in the center of the trail he built a fire, cooking\nand eating as much as he wanted.  The rest he left where it had fallen.\n\nTarzan was an interested spectator.  His desire to kill burned fiercely\nin his wild breast, but his desire to learn was even greater.  He would\nfollow this savage creature for a while and know from whence he came.\nHe could kill him at his leisure later, when the bow and deadly arrows\nwere laid aside.\n\nWhen Kulonga had finished his repast and disappeared beyond a near\nturning of the path, Tarzan dropped quietly to the ground.  With his\nknife he severed many strips of meat from Horta's carcass, but he did\nnot cook them.\n\nHe had seen fire, but only when Ara, the lightning, had destroyed some\ngreat tree.  That any creature of the jungle could produce the\nred-and-yellow fangs which devoured wood and left nothing but fine dust\nsurprised Tarzan greatly, and why the black warrior had ruined his\ndelicious repast by plunging it into the blighting heat was quite\nbeyond him.  Possibly Ara was a friend with whom the Archer was sharing\nhis food.\n\nBut, be that as it may, Tarzan would not ruin good meat in any such\nfoolish manner, so he gobbled down a great quantity of the raw flesh,\nburying the balance of the carcass beside the trail where he could find\nit upon his return.\n\nAnd then Lord Greystoke wiped his greasy fingers upon his naked thighs\nand took up the trail of Kulonga, the son of Mbonga, the king; while in\nfar-off London another Lord Greystoke, the younger brother of the real\nLord Greystoke's father, sent back his chops to the club's CHEF because\nthey were underdone, and when he had finished his repast he dipped his\nfinger-ends into a silver bowl of scented water and dried them upon a\npiece of snowy damask.\n\nAll day Tarzan followed Kulonga, hovering above him in the trees like\nsome malign spirit.  Twice more he saw him hurl his arrows of\ndestruction--once at Dango, the hyena, and again at Manu, the monkey.\nIn each instance the animal died almost instantly, for Kulonga's poison\nwas very fresh and very deadly.\n\nTarzan thought much on this wondrous method of slaying as he swung\nslowly along at a safe distance behind his quarry.  He knew that alone\nthe tiny prick of the arrow could not so quickly dispatch these wild\nthings of the jungle, who were often torn and scratched and gored in a\nfrightful manner as they fought with their jungle neighbors, yet as\noften recovered as not.\n\nNo, there was something mysterious connected with these tiny slivers of\nwood which could bring death by a mere scratch.  He must look into the\nmatter.\n\nThat night Kulonga slept in the crotch of a mighty tree and far above\nhim crouched Tarzan of the Apes.\n\nWhen Kulonga awoke he found that his bow and arrows had disappeared.\nThe black warrior was furious and frightened, but more frightened than\nfurious.  He searched the ground below the tree, and he searched the\ntree above the ground; but there was no sign of either bow or arrows or\nof the nocturnal marauder.\n\nKulonga was panic-stricken.  His spear he had hurled at Kala and had\nnot recovered; and, now that his bow and arrows were gone, he was\ndefenseless except for a single knife.  His only hope lay in reaching\nthe village of Mbonga as quickly as his legs would carry him.\n\nThat he was not far from home he was certain, so he took the trail at a\nrapid trot.\n\nFrom a great mass of impenetrable foliage a few yards away emerged\nTarzan of the Apes to swing quietly in his wake.\n\nKulonga's bow and arrows were securely tied high in the top of a giant\ntree from which a patch of bark had been removed by a sharp knife near\nto the ground, and a branch half cut through and left hanging about\nfifty feet higher up.  Thus Tarzan blazed the forest trails and marked\nhis caches.\n\nAs Kulonga continued his journey Tarzan closed on him until he traveled\nalmost over the black's head.  His rope he now held coiled in his right\nhand; he was almost ready for the kill.\n\nThe moment was delayed only because Tarzan was anxious to ascertain the\nblack warrior's destination, and presently he was rewarded, for they\ncame suddenly in view of a great clearing, at one end of which lay many\nstrange lairs.\n\nTarzan was directly over Kulonga, as he made the discovery.  The forest\nended abruptly and beyond lay two hundred yards of planted fields\nbetween the jungle and the village.\n\nTarzan must act quickly or his prey would be gone; but Tarzan's life\ntraining left so little space between decision and action when an\nemergency confronted him that there was not even room for the shadow of\na thought between.\n\nSo it was that as Kulonga emerged from the shadow of the jungle a\nslender coil of rope sped sinuously above him from the lowest branch of\na mighty tree directly upon the edge of the fields of Mbonga, and ere\nthe king's son had taken a half dozen steps into the clearing a quick\nnoose tightened about his neck.\n\nSo quickly did Tarzan of the Apes drag back his prey that Kulonga's cry\nof alarm was throttled in his windpipe.  Hand over hand Tarzan drew the\nstruggling black until he had him hanging by his neck in mid-air; then\nTarzan climbed to a larger branch drawing the still threshing victim\nwell up into the sheltering verdure of the tree.\n\nHere he fastened the rope securely to a stout branch, and then,\ndescending, plunged his hunting knife into Kulonga's heart.  Kala was\navenged.\n\nTarzan examined the black minutely, for he had never seen any other\nhuman being.  The knife with its sheath and belt caught his eye; he\nappropriated them.  A copper anklet also took his fancy, and this he\ntransferred to his own leg.\n\nHe examined and admired the tattooing on the forehead and breast.  He\nmarveled at the sharp filed teeth.  He investigated and appropriated\nthe feathered headdress, and then he prepared to get down to business,\nfor Tarzan of the Apes was hungry, and here was meat; meat of the kill,\nwhich jungle ethics permitted him to eat.\n\nHow may we judge him, by what standards, this ape-man with the heart\nand head and body of an English gentleman, and the training of a wild\nbeast?\n\nTublat, whom he had hated and who had hated him, he had killed in a\nfair fight, and yet never had the thought of eating Tublat's flesh\nentered his head.  It would have been as revolting to him as is\ncannibalism to us.\n\nBut who was Kulonga that he might not be eaten as fairly as Horta, the\nboar, or Bara, the deer?  Was he not simply another of the countless\nwild things of the jungle who preyed upon one another to satisfy the\ncravings of hunger?\n\nSuddenly, a strange doubt stayed his hand.  Had not his books taught\nhim that he was a man?  And was not The Archer a man, also?\n\nDid men eat men?  Alas, he did not know.  Why, then, this hesitancy!\nOnce more he essayed the effort, but a qualm of nausea overwhelmed him.\nHe did not understand.\n\nAll he knew was that he could not eat the flesh of this black man, and\nthus hereditary instinct, ages old, usurped the functions of his\nuntaught mind and saved him from transgressing a worldwide law of whose\nvery existence he was ignorant.\n\nQuickly he lowered Kulonga's body to the ground, removed the noose, and\ntook to the trees again.\n\n\n\n\nChapter X\n\nThe Fear-Phantom\n\n\nFrom a lofty perch Tarzan viewed the village of thatched huts across\nthe intervening plantation.\n\nHe saw that at one point the forest touched the village, and to this\nspot he made his way, lured by a fever of curiosity to behold animals\nof his own kind, and to learn more of their ways and view the strange\nlairs in which they lived.\n\nHis savage life among the fierce wild brutes of the jungle left no\nopening for any thought that these could be aught else than enemies.\nSimilarity of form led him into no erroneous conception of the welcome\nthat would be accorded him should he be discovered by these, the first\nof his own kind he had ever seen.\n\nTarzan of the Apes was no sentimentalist.  He knew nothing of the\nbrotherhood of man.  All things outside his own tribe were his deadly\nenemies, with the few exceptions of which Tantor, the elephant, was a\nmarked example.\n\nAnd he realized all this without malice or hatred.  To kill was the law\nof the wild world he knew.  Few were his primitive pleasures, but the\ngreatest of these was to hunt and kill, and so he accorded to others\nthe right to cherish the same desires as he, even though he himself\nmight be the object of their hunt.\n\nHis strange life had left him neither morose nor bloodthirsty.  That he\njoyed in killing, and that he killed with a joyous laugh upon his\nhandsome lips betokened no innate cruelty.  He killed for food most\noften, but, being a man, he sometimes killed for pleasure, a thing\nwhich no other animal does; for it has remained for man alone among all\ncreatures to kill senselessly and wantonly for the mere pleasure of\ninflicting suffering and death.\n\nAnd when he killed for revenge, or in self-defense, he did that also\nwithout hysteria, for it was a very businesslike proceeding which\nadmitted of no levity.\n\nSo it was that now, as he cautiously approached the village of Mbonga,\nhe was quite prepared either to kill or be killed should he be\ndiscovered.  He proceeded with unwonted stealth, for Kulonga had taught\nhim great respect for the little sharp splinters of wood which dealt\ndeath so swiftly and unerringly.\n\nAt length he came to a great tree, heavy laden with thick foliage and\nloaded with pendant loops of giant creepers.  From this almost\nimpenetrable bower above the village he crouched, looking down upon the\nscene below him, wondering over every feature of this new, strange life.\n\nThere were naked children running and playing in the village street.\nThere were women grinding dried plantain in crude stone mortars, while\nothers were fashioning cakes from the powdered flour.  Out in the\nfields he could see still other women hoeing, weeding, or gathering.\n\nAll wore strange protruding girdles of dried grass about their hips and\nmany were loaded with brass and copper anklets, armlets and bracelets.\nAround many a dusky neck hung curiously coiled strands of wire, while\nseveral were further ornamented by huge nose rings.\n\nTarzan of the Apes looked with growing wonder at these strange\ncreatures.  Dozing in the shade he saw several men, while at the\nextreme outskirts of the clearing he occasionally caught glimpses of\narmed warriors apparently guarding the village against surprise from an\nattacking enemy.\n\nHe noticed that the women alone worked.  Nowhere was there evidence of\na man tilling the fields or performing any of the homely duties of the\nvillage.\n\nFinally his eyes rested upon a woman directly beneath him.\n\nBefore her was a small cauldron standing over a low fire and in it\nbubbled a thick, reddish, tarry mass.  On one side of her lay a\nquantity of wooden arrows the points of which she dipped into the\nseething substance, then laying them upon a narrow rack of boughs which\nstood upon her other side.\n\nTarzan of the Apes was fascinated.  Here was the secret of the terrible\ndestructiveness of The Archer's tiny missiles.  He noted the extreme\ncare which the woman took that none of the matter should touch her\nhands, and once when a particle spattered upon one of her fingers he\nsaw her plunge the member into a vessel of water and quickly rub the\ntiny stain away with a handful of leaves.\n\nTarzan knew nothing of poison, but his shrewd reasoning told him that\nit was this deadly stuff that killed, and not the little arrow, which\nwas merely the messenger that carried it into the body of its victim.\n\nHow he should like to have more of those little death-dealing slivers.\nIf the woman would only leave her work for an instant he could drop\ndown, gather up a handful, and be back in the tree again before she\ndrew three breaths.\n\nAs he was trying to think out some plan to distract her attention he\nheard a wild cry from across the clearing.  He looked and saw a black\nwarrior standing beneath the very tree in which he had killed the\nmurderer of Kala an hour before.\n\nThe fellow was shouting and waving his spear above his head.  Now and\nagain he would point to something on the ground before him.\n\nThe village was in an uproar instantly.  Armed men rushed from the\ninterior of many a hut and raced madly across the clearing toward the\nexcited sentry.  After them trooped the old men, and the women and\nchildren until, in a moment, the village was deserted.\n\nTarzan of the Apes knew that they had found the body of his victim, but\nthat interested him far less than the fact that no one remained in the\nvillage to prevent his taking a supply of the arrows which lay below\nhim.\n\nQuickly and noiselessly he dropped to the ground beside the cauldron of\npoison.  For a moment he stood motionless, his quick, bright eyes\nscanning the interior of the palisade.\n\nNo one was in sight.  His eyes rested upon the open doorway of a nearby\nhut.  He would take a look within, thought Tarzan, and so, cautiously,\nhe approached the low thatched building.\n\nFor a moment he stood without, listening intently.  There was no sound,\nand he glided into the semi-darkness of the interior.\n\nWeapons hung against the walls--long spears, strangely shaped knives, a\ncouple of narrow shields.  In the center of the room was a cooking pot,\nand at the far end a litter of dry grasses covered by woven mats which\nevidently served the owners as beds and bedding.  Several human skulls\nlay upon the floor.\n\nTarzan of the Apes felt of each article, hefted the spears, smelled of\nthem, for he \"saw\" largely through his sensitive and highly trained\nnostrils.  He determined to own one of these long, pointed sticks, but\nhe could not take one on this trip because of the arrows he meant to\ncarry.\n\nAs he took each article from the walls, he placed it in a pile in the\ncenter of the room.  On top of all he placed the cooking pot, inverted,\nand on top of this he laid one of the grinning skulls, upon which he\nfastened the headdress of the dead Kulonga.\n\nThen he stood back, surveyed his work, and grinned.  Tarzan of the Apes\nenjoyed a joke.\n\nBut now he heard, outside, the sounds of many voices, and long mournful\nhowls, and mighty wailing.  He was startled.  Had he remained too long?\nQuickly he reached the doorway and peered down the village street\ntoward the village gate.\n\nThe natives were not yet in sight, though he could plainly hear them\napproaching across the plantation.  They must be very near.\n\nLike a flash he sprang across the opening to the pile of arrows.\nGathering up all he could carry under one arm, he overturned the\nseething cauldron with a kick, and disappeared into the foliage above\njust as the first of the returning natives entered the gate at the far\nend of the village street.  Then he turned to watch the proceeding\nbelow, poised like some wild bird ready to take swift wing at the first\nsign of danger.\n\nThe natives filed up the street, four of them bearing the dead body of\nKulonga.  Behind trailed the women, uttering strange cries and weird\nlamentation.  On they came to the portals of Kulonga's hut, the very\none in which Tarzan had wrought his depredations.\n\nScarcely had half a dozen entered the building ere they came rushing\nout in wild, jabbering confusion.  The others hastened to gather about.\nThere was much excited gesticulating, pointing, and chattering; then\nseveral of the warriors approached and peered within.\n\nFinally an old fellow with many ornaments of metal about his arms and\nlegs, and a necklace of dried human hands depending upon his chest,\nentered the hut.\n\nIt was Mbonga, the king, father of Kulonga.\n\nFor a few moments all was silent.  Then Mbonga emerged, a look of\nmingled wrath and superstitious fear writ upon his hideous countenance.\nHe spoke a few words to the assembled warriors, and in an instant the\nmen were flying through the little village searching minutely every hut\nand corner within the palisades.\n\nScarcely had the search commenced than the overturned cauldron was\ndiscovered, and with it the theft of the poisoned arrows.  Nothing more\nthey found, and it was a thoroughly awed and frightened group of\nsavages which huddled around their king a few moments later.\n\nMbonga could explain nothing of the strange events that had taken\nplace.  The finding of the still warm body of Kulonga--on the very\nverge of their fields and within easy earshot of the village--knifed\nand stripped at the door of his father's home, was in itself\nsufficiently mysterious, but these last awesome discoveries within the\nvillage, within the dead Kulonga's own hut, filled their hearts with\ndismay, and conjured in their poor brains only the most frightful of\nsuperstitious explanations.\n\nThey stood in little groups, talking in low tones, and ever casting\naffrighted glances behind them from their great rolling eyes.\n\nTarzan of the Apes watched them for a while from his lofty perch in the\ngreat tree.  There was much in their demeanor which he could not\nunderstand, for of superstition he was ignorant, and of fear of any\nkind he had but a vague conception.\n\nThe sun was high in the heavens.  Tarzan had not broken fast this day,\nand it was many miles to where lay the toothsome remains of Horta the\nboar.\n\nSo he turned his back upon the village of Mbonga and melted away into\nthe leafy fastness of the forest.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XI\n\n\"King of the Apes\"\n\n\nIt was not yet dark when he reached the tribe, though he stopped to\nexhume and devour the remains of the wild boar he had cached the\npreceding day, and again to take Kulonga's bow and arrows from the tree\ntop in which he had hidden them.\n\nIt was a well-laden Tarzan who dropped from the branches into the midst\nof the tribe of Kerchak.\n\nWith swelling chest he narrated the glories of his adventure and\nexhibited the spoils of conquest.\n\nKerchak grunted and turned away, for he was jealous of this strange\nmember of his band.  In his little evil brain he sought for some excuse\nto wreak his hatred upon Tarzan.\n\nThe next day Tarzan was practicing with his bow and arrows at the first\ngleam of dawn.  At first he lost nearly every bolt he shot, but finally\nhe learned to guide the little shafts with fair accuracy, and ere a\nmonth had passed he was no mean shot; but his proficiency had cost him\nnearly his entire supply of arrows.\n\nThe tribe continued to find the hunting good in the vicinity of the\nbeach, and so Tarzan of the Apes varied his archery practice with\nfurther investigation of his father's choice though little store of\nbooks.\n\nIt was during this period that the young English lord found hidden in\nthe back of one of the cupboards in the cabin a small metal box.  The\nkey was in the lock, and a few moments of investigation and\nexperimentation were rewarded with the successful opening of the\nreceptacle.\n\nIn it he found a faded photograph of a smooth faced young man, a golden\nlocket studded with diamonds, linked to a small gold chain, a few\nletters and a small book.\n\nTarzan examined these all minutely.\n\nThe photograph he liked most of all, for the eyes were smiling, and the\nface was open and frank.  It was his father.\n\nThe locket, too, took his fancy, and he placed the chain about his neck\nin imitation of the ornamentation he had seen to be so common among the\nblack men he had visited.  The brilliant stones gleamed strangely\nagainst his smooth, brown hide.\n\nThe letters he could scarcely decipher for he had learned little or\nnothing of script, so he put them back in the box with the photograph\nand turned his attention to the book.\n\nThis was almost entirely filled with fine script, but while the little\nbugs were all familiar to him, their arrangement and the combinations\nin which they occurred were strange, and entirely incomprehensible.\n\nTarzan had long since learned the use of the dictionary, but much to\nhis sorrow and perplexity it proved of no avail to him in this\nemergency.  Not a word of all that was writ in the book could he find,\nand so he put it back in the metal box, but with a determination to\nwork out the mysteries of it later on.\n\nLittle did he know that this book held between its covers the key to\nhis origin--the answer to the strange riddle of his strange life.  It\nwas the diary of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke--kept in French, as had\nalways been his custom.\n\nTarzan replaced the box in the cupboard, but always thereafter he\ncarried the features of the strong, smiling face of his father in his\nheart, and in his head a fixed determination to solve the mystery of\nthe strange words in the little black book.\n\nAt present he had more important business in hand, for his supply of\narrows was exhausted, and he must needs journey to the black men's\nvillage and renew it.\n\nEarly the following morning he set out, and, traveling rapidly, he came\nbefore midday to the clearing.  Once more he took up his position in\nthe great tree, and, as before, he saw the women in the fields and the\nvillage street, and the cauldron of bubbling poison directly beneath\nhim.\n\nFor hours he lay awaiting his opportunity to drop down unseen and\ngather up the arrows for which he had come; but nothing now occurred to\ncall the villagers away from their homes.  The day wore on, and still\nTarzan of the Apes crouched above the unsuspecting woman at the\ncauldron.\n\nPresently the workers in the fields returned.  The hunting warriors\nemerged from the forest, and when all were within the palisade the\ngates were closed and barred.\n\nMany cooking pots were now in evidence about the village.  Before each\nhut a woman presided over a boiling stew, while little cakes of\nplantain, and cassava puddings were to be seen on every hand.\n\nSuddenly there came a hail from the edge of the clearing.\n\nTarzan looked.\n\nIt was a party of belated hunters returning from the north, and among\nthem they half led, half carried a struggling animal.\n\nAs they approached the village the gates were thrown open to admit\nthem, and then, as the people saw the victim of the chase, a savage cry\nrose to the heavens, for the quarry was a man.\n\nAs he was dragged, still resisting, into the village street, the women\nand children set upon him with sticks and stones, and Tarzan of the\nApes, young and savage beast of the jungle, wondered at the cruel\nbrutality of his own kind.\n\nSheeta, the leopard, alone of all the jungle folk, tortured his prey.\nThe ethics of all the others meted a quick and merciful death to their\nvictims.\n\nTarzan had learned from his books but scattered fragments of the ways\nof human beings.\n\nWhen he had followed Kulonga through the forest he had expected to come\nto a city of strange houses on wheels, puffing clouds of black smoke\nfrom a huge tree stuck in the roof of one of them--or to a sea covered\nwith mighty floating buildings which he had learned were called,\nvariously, ships and boats and steamers and craft.\n\nHe had been sorely disappointed with the poor little village of the\nblacks, hidden away in his own jungle, and with not a single house as\nlarge as his own cabin upon the distant beach.\n\nHe saw that these people were more wicked than his own apes, and as\nsavage and cruel as Sabor, herself.  Tarzan began to hold his own kind\nin low esteem.\n\nNow they had tied their poor victim to a great post near the center of\nthe village, directly before Mbonga's hut, and here they formed a\ndancing, yelling circle of warriors about him, alive with flashing\nknives and menacing spears.\n\nIn a larger circle squatted the women, yelling and beating upon drums.\nIt reminded Tarzan of the Dum-Dum, and so he knew what to expect.  He\nwondered if they would spring upon their meat while it was still alive.\nThe Apes did not do such things as that.\n\nThe circle of warriors about the cringing captive drew closer and\ncloser to their prey as they danced in wild and savage abandon to the\nmaddening music of the drums.  Presently a spear reached out and\npricked the victim.  It was the signal for fifty others.\n\nEyes, ears, arms and legs were pierced; every inch of the poor writhing\nbody that did not cover a vital organ became the target of the cruel\nlancers.\n\nThe women and children shrieked their delight.\n\nThe warriors licked their hideous lips in anticipation of the feast to\ncome, and vied with one another in the savagery and loathsomeness of\nthe cruel indignities with which they tortured the still conscious\nprisoner.\n\nThen it was that Tarzan of the Apes saw his chance.  All eyes were\nfixed upon the thrilling spectacle at the stake.  The light of day had\ngiven place to the darkness of a moonless night, and only the fires in\nthe immediate vicinity of the orgy had been kept alight to cast a\nrestless glow upon the restless scene.\n\nGently the lithe boy dropped to the soft earth at the end of the\nvillage street.  Quickly he gathered up the arrows--all of them this\ntime, for he had brought a number of long fibers to bind them into a\nbundle.\n\nWithout haste he wrapped them securely, and then, ere he turned to\nleave, the devil of capriciousness entered his heart.  He looked about\nfor some hint of a wild prank to play upon these strange, grotesque\ncreatures that they might be again aware of his presence among them.\n\nDropping his bundle of arrows at the foot of the tree, Tarzan crept\namong the shadows at the side of the street until he came to the same\nhut he had entered on the occasion of his first visit.\n\nInside all was darkness, but his groping hands soon found the object\nfor which he sought, and without further delay he turned again toward\nthe door.\n\nHe had taken but a step, however, ere his quick ear caught the sound of\napproaching footsteps immediately without.  In another instant the\nfigure of a woman darkened the entrance of the hut.\n\nTarzan drew back silently to the far wall, and his hand sought the\nlong, keen hunting knife of his father.  The woman came quickly to the\ncenter of the hut.  There she paused for an instant feeling about with\nher hands for the thing she sought.  Evidently it was not in its\naccustomed place, for she explored ever nearer and nearer the wall\nwhere Tarzan stood.\n\nSo close was she now that the ape-man felt the animal warmth of her\nnaked body.  Up went the hunting knife, and then the woman turned to\none side and soon a guttural \"ah\" proclaimed that her search had at\nlast been successful.\n\nImmediately she turned and left the hut, and as she passed through the\ndoorway Tarzan saw that she carried a cooking pot in her hand.\n\nHe followed closely after her, and as he reconnoitered from the shadows\nof the doorway he saw that all the women of the village were hastening\nto and from the various huts with pots and kettles.  These they were\nfilling with water and placing over a number of fires near the stake\nwhere the dying victim now hung, an inert and bloody mass of suffering.\n\nChoosing a moment when none seemed near, Tarzan hastened to his bundle\nof arrows beneath the great tree at the end of the village street.  As\non the former occasion he overthrew the cauldron before leaping,\nsinuous and catlike, into the lower branches of the forest giant.\n\nSilently he climbed to a great height until he found a point where he\ncould look through a leafy opening upon the scene beneath him.\n\nThe women were now preparing the prisoner for their cooking pots, while\nthe men stood about resting after the fatigue of their mad revel.\nComparative quiet reigned in the village.\n\nTarzan raised aloft the thing he had pilfered from the hut, and, with\naim made true by years of fruit and coconut throwing, launched it\ntoward the group of savages.\n\nSquarely among them it fell, striking one of the warriors full upon the\nhead and felling him to the ground.  Then it rolled among the women and\nstopped beside the half-butchered thing they were preparing to feast\nupon.\n\nAll gazed in consternation at it for an instant, and then, with one\naccord, broke and ran for their huts.\n\nIt was a grinning human skull which looked up at them from the ground.\nThe dropping of the thing out of the open sky was a miracle well aimed\nto work upon their superstitious fears.\n\nThus Tarzan of the Apes left them filled with terror at this new\nmanifestation of the presence of some unseen and unearthly evil power\nwhich lurked in the forest about their village.\n\nLater, when they discovered the overturned cauldron, and that once more\ntheir arrows had been pilfered, it commenced to dawn upon them that\nthey had offended some great god by placing their village in this part\nof the jungle without propitiating him.  From then on an offering of\nfood was daily placed below the great tree from whence the arrows had\ndisappeared in an effort to conciliate the mighty one.\n\nBut the seed of fear was deep sown, and had he but known it, Tarzan of\nthe Apes had laid the foundation for much future misery for himself and\nhis tribe.\n\nThat night he slept in the forest not far from the village, and early\nthe next morning set out slowly on his homeward march, hunting as he\ntraveled.  Only a few berries and an occasional grub worm rewarded his\nsearch, and he was half famished when, looking up from a log he had\nbeen rooting beneath, he saw Sabor, the lioness, standing in the center\nof the trail not twenty paces from him.\n\nThe great yellow eyes were fixed upon him with a wicked and baleful\ngleam, and the red tongue licked the longing lips as Sabor crouched,\nworming her stealthy way with belly flattened against the earth.\n\nTarzan did not attempt to escape.  He welcomed the opportunity for\nwhich, in fact, he had been searching for days past, now that he was\narmed with something more than a rope of grass.\n\nQuickly he unslung his bow and fitted a well-daubed arrow, and as Sabor\nsprang, the tiny missile leaped to meet her in mid-air.  At the same\ninstant Tarzan of the Apes jumped to one side, and as the great cat\nstruck the ground beyond him another death-tipped arrow sunk deep into\nSabor's loin.\n\nWith a mighty roar the beast turned and charged once more, only to be\nmet with a third arrow full in one eye; but this time she was too close\nto the ape-man for the latter to sidestep the onrushing body.\n\nTarzan of the Apes went down beneath the great body of his enemy, but\nwith gleaming knife drawn and striking home.  For a moment they lay\nthere, and then Tarzan realized that the inert mass lying upon him was\nbeyond power ever again to injure man or ape.\n\nWith difficulty he wriggled from beneath the great weight, and as he\nstood erect and gazed down upon the trophy of his skill, a mighty wave\nof exultation swept over him.\n\nWith swelling breast, he placed a foot upon the body of his powerful\nenemy, and throwing back his fine young head, roared out the awful\nchallenge of the victorious bull ape.\n\nThe forest echoed to the savage and triumphant paean.  Birds fell\nstill, and the larger animals and beasts of prey slunk stealthily away,\nfor few there were of all the jungle who sought for trouble with the\ngreat anthropoids.\n\nAnd in London another Lord Greystoke was speaking to HIS kind in the\nHouse of Lords, but none trembled at the sound of his soft voice.\n\nSabor proved unsavory eating even to Tarzan of the Apes, but hunger\nserved as a most efficacious disguise to toughness and rank taste, and\nere long, with well-filled stomach, the ape-man was ready to sleep\nagain.  First, however, he must remove the hide, for it was as much for\nthis as for any other purpose that he had desired to destroy Sabor.\n\nDeftly he removed the great pelt, for he had practiced often on smaller\nanimals.  When the task was finished he carried his trophy to the fork\nof a high tree, and there, curling himself securely in a crotch, he\nfell into deep and dreamless slumber.\n\nWhat with loss of sleep, arduous exercise, and a full belly, Tarzan of\nthe Apes slept the sun around, awakening about noon of the following\nday.  He straightway repaired to the carcass of Sabor, but was angered\nto find the bones picked clean by other hungry denizens of the jungle.\n\nHalf an hour's leisurely progress through the forest brought to sight a\nyoung deer, and before the little creature knew that an enemy was near\na tiny arrow had lodged in its neck.\n\nSo quickly the virus worked that at the end of a dozen leaps the deer\nplunged headlong into the undergrowth, dead.  Again did Tarzan feast\nwell, but this time he did not sleep.\n\nInstead, he hastened on toward the point where he had left the tribe,\nand when he had found them proudly exhibited the skin of Sabor, the\nlioness.\n\n\"Look!\" he cried, \"Apes of Kerchak.  See what Tarzan, the mighty\nkiller, has done.  Who else among you has ever killed one of Numa's\npeople?  Tarzan is mightiest amongst you for Tarzan is no ape.  Tarzan\nis--\"  But here he stopped, for in the language of the anthropoids\nthere was no word for man, and Tarzan could only write the word in\nEnglish; he could not pronounce it.\n\nThe tribe had gathered about to look upon the proof of his wondrous\nprowess, and to listen to his words.\n\nOnly Kerchak hung back, nursing his hatred and his rage.\n\nSuddenly something snapped in the wicked little brain of the\nanthropoid.  With a frightful roar the great beast sprang among the\nassemblage.\n\nBiting, and striking with his huge hands, he killed and maimed a dozen\nere the balance could escape to the upper terraces of the forest.\n\nFrothing and shrieking in the insanity of his fury, Kerchak looked\nabout for the object of his greatest hatred, and there, upon a near-by\nlimb, he saw him sitting.\n\n\"Come down, Tarzan, great killer,\" cried Kerchak.  \"Come down and feel\nthe fangs of a greater!  Do mighty fighters fly to the trees at the\nfirst approach of danger?\"  And then Kerchak emitted the volleying\nchallenge of his kind.\n\nQuietly Tarzan dropped to the ground.  Breathlessly the tribe watched\nfrom their lofty perches as Kerchak, still roaring, charged the\nrelatively puny figure.\n\nNearly seven feet stood Kerchak on his short legs.  His enormous\nshoulders were bunched and rounded with huge muscles.  The back of his\nshort neck was as a single lump of iron sinew which bulged beyond the\nbase of his skull, so that his head seemed like a small ball protruding\nfrom a huge mountain of flesh.\n\nHis back-drawn, snarling lips exposed his great fighting fangs, and his\nlittle, wicked, blood-shot eyes gleamed in horrid reflection of his\nmadness.\n\nAwaiting him stood Tarzan, himself a mighty muscled animal, but his six\nfeet of height and his great rolling sinews seemed pitifully inadequate\nto the ordeal which awaited them.\n\nHis bow and arrows lay some distance away where he had dropped them\nwhile showing Sabor's hide to his fellow apes, so that he confronted\nKerchak now with only his hunting knife and his superior intellect to\noffset the ferocious strength of his enemy.\n\nAs his antagonist came roaring toward him, Lord Greystoke tore his long\nknife from its sheath, and with an answering challenge as horrid and\nbloodcurdling as that of the beast he faced, rushed swiftly to meet the\nattack.  He was too shrewd to allow those long hairy arms to encircle\nhim, and just as their bodies were about to crash together, Tarzan of\nthe Apes grasped one of the huge wrists of his assailant, and,\nspringing lightly to one side, drove his knife to the hilt into\nKerchak's body, below the heart.\n\nBefore he could wrench the blade free again, the bull's quick lunge to\nseize him in those awful arms had torn the weapon from Tarzan's grasp.\n\nKerchak aimed a terrific blow at the ape-man's head with the flat of\nhis hand, a blow which, had it landed, might easily have crushed in the\nside of Tarzan's skull.\n\nThe man was too quick, and, ducking beneath it, himself delivered a\nmighty one, with clenched fist, in the pit of Kerchak's stomach.\n\nThe ape was staggered, and what with the mortal wound in his side had\nalmost collapsed, when, with one mighty effort he rallied for an\ninstant--just long enough to enable him to wrest his arm free from\nTarzan's grasp and close in a terrific clinch with his wiry opponent.\n\nStraining the ape-man close to him, his great jaws sought Tarzan's\nthroat, but the young lord's sinewy fingers were at Kerchak's own\nbefore the cruel fangs could close on the sleek brown skin.\n\nThus they struggled, the one to crush out his opponent's life with\nthose awful teeth, the other to close forever the windpipe beneath his\nstrong grasp while he held the snarling mouth from him.\n\nThe greater strength of the ape was slowly prevailing, and the teeth of\nthe straining beast were scarce an inch from Tarzan's throat when, with\na shuddering tremor, the great body stiffened for an instant and then\nsank limply to the ground.\n\nKerchak was dead.\n\nWithdrawing the knife that had so often rendered him master of far\nmightier muscles than his own, Tarzan of the Apes placed his foot upon\nthe neck of his vanquished enemy, and once again, loud through the\nforest rang the fierce, wild cry of the conqueror.\n\nAnd thus came the young Lord Greystoke into the kingship of the Apes.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XII\n\nMan's Reason\n\n\nThere was one of the tribe of Tarzan who questioned his authority, and\nthat was Terkoz, the son of Tublat, but he so feared the keen knife and\nthe deadly arrows of his new lord that he confined the manifestation of\nhis objections to petty disobediences and irritating mannerisms; Tarzan\nknew, however, that he but waited his opportunity to wrest the kingship\nfrom him by some sudden stroke of treachery, and so he was ever on his\nguard against surprise.\n\nFor months the life of the little band went on much as it had before,\nexcept that Tarzan's greater intelligence and his ability as a hunter\nwere the means of providing for them more bountifully than ever before.\nMost of them, therefore, were more than content with the change in\nrulers.\n\nTarzan led them by night to the fields of the black men, and there,\nwarned by their chief's superior wisdom, they ate only what they\nrequired, nor ever did they destroy what they could not eat, as is the\nway of Manu, the monkey, and of most apes.\n\nSo, while the blacks were wroth at the continued pilfering of their\nfields, they were not discouraged in their efforts to cultivate the\nland, as would have been the case had Tarzan permitted his people to\nlay waste the plantation wantonly.\n\nDuring this period Tarzan paid many nocturnal visits to the village,\nwhere he often renewed his supply of arrows.  He soon noticed the food\nalways standing at the foot of the tree which was his avenue into the\npalisade, and after a little, he commenced to eat whatever the blacks\nput there.\n\nWhen the awe-struck savages saw that the food disappeared overnight\nthey were filled with consternation and dread, for it was one thing to\nput food out to propitiate a god or a devil, but quite another thing to\nhave the spirit really come into the village and eat it.  Such a thing\nwas unheard of, and it clouded their superstitious minds with all\nmanner of vague fears.\n\nNor was this all.  The periodic disappearance of their arrows, and the\nstrange pranks perpetrated by unseen hands, had wrought them to such a\nstate that life had become a veritable burden in their new home, and\nnow it was that Mbonga and his head men began to talk of abandoning the\nvillage and seeking a site farther on in the jungle.\n\nPresently the black warriors began to strike farther and farther south\ninto the heart of the forest when they went to hunt, looking for a site\nfor a new village.\n\nMore often was the tribe of Tarzan disturbed by these wandering\nhuntsmen.  Now was the quiet, fierce solitude of the primeval forest\nbroken by new, strange cries.  No longer was there safety for bird or\nbeast.  Man had come.\n\nOther animals passed up and down the jungle by day and by\nnight--fierce, cruel beasts--but their weaker neighbors only fled from\ntheir immediate vicinity to return again when the danger was past.\n\nWith man it is different.  When he comes many of the larger animals\ninstinctively leave the district entirely, seldom if ever to return;\nand thus it has always been with the great anthropoids.  They flee man\nas man flees a pestilence.\n\nFor a short time the tribe of Tarzan lingered in the vicinity of the\nbeach because their new chief hated the thought of leaving the\ntreasured contents of the little cabin forever.  But when one day a\nmember of the tribe discovered the blacks in great numbers on the banks\nof a little stream that had been their watering place for generations,\nand in the act of clearing a space in the jungle and erecting many\nhuts, the apes would remain no longer; and so Tarzan led them inland\nfor many marches to a spot as yet undefiled by the foot of a human\nbeing.\n\nOnce every moon Tarzan would go swinging rapidly back through the\nswaying branches to have a day with his books, and to replenish his\nsupply of arrows.  This latter task was becoming more and more\ndifficult, for the blacks had taken to hiding their supply away at\nnight in granaries and living huts.\n\nThis necessitated watching by day on Tarzan's part to discover where\nthe arrows were being concealed.\n\nTwice had he entered huts at night while the inmates lay sleeping upon\ntheir mats, and stolen the arrows from the very sides of the warriors.\nBut this method he realized to be too fraught with danger, and so he\ncommenced picking up solitary hunters with his long, deadly noose,\nstripping them of weapons and ornaments and dropping their bodies from\na high tree into the village street during the still watches of the\nnight.\n\nThese various escapades again so terrorized the blacks that, had it not\nbeen for the monthly respite between Tarzan's visits, in which they had\nopportunity to renew hope that each fresh incursion would prove the\nlast, they soon would have abandoned their new village.\n\nThe blacks had not as yet come upon Tarzan's cabin on the distant\nbeach, but the ape-man lived in constant dread that, while he was away\nwith the tribe, they would discover and despoil his treasure.  So it\ncame that he spent more and more time in the vicinity of his father's\nlast home, and less and less with the tribe.  Presently the members of\nhis little community began to suffer on account of his neglect, for\ndisputes and quarrels constantly arose which only the king might settle\npeaceably.\n\nAt last some of the older apes spoke to Tarzan on the subject, and for\na month thereafter he remained constantly with the tribe.\n\nThe duties of kingship among the anthropoids are not many or arduous.\n\nIn the afternoon comes Thaka, possibly, to complain that old Mungo has\nstolen his new wife.  Then must Tarzan summon all before him, and if he\nfinds that the wife prefers her new lord he commands that matters\nremain as they are, or possibly that Mungo give Thaka one of his\ndaughters in exchange.\n\nWhatever his decision, the apes accept it as final, and return to their\noccupations satisfied.\n\nThen comes Tana, shrieking and holding tight her side from which blood\nis streaming.  Gunto, her husband, has cruelly bitten her!  And Gunto,\nsummoned, says that Tana is lazy and will not bring him nuts and\nbeetles, or scratch his back for him.\n\nSo Tarzan scolds them both and threatens Gunto with a taste of the\ndeath-bearing slivers if he abuses Tana further, and Tana, for her\npart, is compelled to promise better attention to her wifely duties.\n\nAnd so it goes, little family differences for the most part, which, if\nleft unsettled would result finally in greater factional strife, and\nthe eventual dismemberment of the tribe.\n\nBut Tarzan tired of it, as he found that kingship meant the curtailment\nof his liberty.  He longed for the little cabin and the sun-kissed\nsea--for the cool interior of the well-built house, and for the\nnever-ending wonders of the many books.\n\nAs he had grown older, he found that he had grown away from his people.\nTheir interests and his were far removed.  They had not kept pace with\nhim, nor could they understand aught of the many strange and wonderful\ndreams that passed through the active brain of their human king.  So\nlimited was their vocabulary that Tarzan could not even talk with them\nof the many new truths, and the great fields of thought that his\nreading had opened up before his longing eyes, or make known ambitions\nwhich stirred his soul.\n\nAmong the tribe he no longer had friends as of old.  A little child may\nfind companionship in many strange and simple creatures, but to a grown\nman there must be some semblance of equality in intellect as the basis\nfor agreeable association.\n\nHad Kala lived, Tarzan would have sacrificed all else to remain near\nher, but now that she was dead, and the playful friends of his\nchildhood grown into fierce and surly brutes he felt that he much\npreferred the peace and solitude of his cabin to the irksome duties of\nleadership amongst a horde of wild beasts.\n\nThe hatred and jealousy of Terkoz, son of Tublat, did much to\ncounteract the effect of Tarzan's desire to renounce his kingship among\nthe apes, for, stubborn young Englishman that he was, he could not\nbring himself to retreat in the face of so malignant an enemy.\n\nThat Terkoz would be chosen leader in his stead he knew full well, for\ntime and again the ferocious brute had established his claim to\nphysical supremacy over the few bull apes who had dared resent his\nsavage bullying.\n\nTarzan would have liked to subdue the ugly beast without recourse to\nknife or arrows.  So much had his great strength and agility increased\nin the period following his maturity that he had come to believe that\nhe might master the redoubtable Terkoz in a hand to hand fight were it\nnot for the terrible advantage the anthropoid's huge fighting fangs\ngave him over the poorly armed Tarzan.\n\nThe entire matter was taken out of Tarzan's hands one day by force of\ncircumstances, and his future left open to him, so that he might go or\nstay without any stain upon his savage escutcheon.\n\nIt happened thus:\n\nThe tribe was feeding quietly, spread over a considerable area, when a\ngreat screaming arose some distance east of where Tarzan lay upon his\nbelly beside a limpid brook, attempting to catch an elusive fish in his\nquick, brown hands.\n\nWith one accord the tribe swung rapidly toward the frightened cries,\nand there found Terkoz holding an old female by the hair and beating\nher unmercifully with his great hands.\n\nAs Tarzan approached he raised his hand aloft for Terkoz to desist, for\nthe female was not his, but belonged to a poor old ape whose fighting\ndays were long over, and who, therefore, could not protect his family.\n\nTerkoz knew that it was against the laws of his kind to strike this\nwoman of another, but being a bully, he had taken advantage of the\nweakness of the female's husband to chastise her because she had\nrefused to give up to him a tender young rodent she had captured.\n\nWhen Terkoz saw Tarzan approaching without his arrows, he continued to\nbelabor the poor woman in a studied effort to affront his hated\nchieftain.\n\nTarzan did not repeat his warning signal, but instead rushed bodily\nupon the waiting Terkoz.\n\nNever had the ape-man fought so terrible a battle since that long-gone\nday when Bolgani, the great king gorilla had so horribly manhandled him\nere the new-found knife had, by accident, pricked the savage heart.\n\nTarzan's knife on the present occasion but barely offset the gleaming\nfangs of Terkoz, and what little advantage the ape had over the man in\nbrute strength was almost balanced by the latter's wonderful quickness\nand agility.\n\nIn the sum total of their points, however, the anthropoid had a shade\nthe better of the battle, and had there been no other personal\nattribute to influence the final outcome, Tarzan of the Apes, the young\nLord Greystoke, would have died as he had lived--an unknown savage\nbeast in equatorial Africa.\n\nBut there was that which had raised him far above his fellows of the\njungle--that little spark which spells the whole vast difference\nbetween man and brute--Reason.  This it was which saved him from death\nbeneath the iron muscles and tearing fangs of Terkoz.\n\nScarcely had they fought a dozen seconds ere they were rolling upon the\nground, striking, tearing and rending--two great savage beasts battling\nto the death.\n\nTerkoz had a dozen knife wounds on head and breast, and Tarzan was torn\nand bleeding--his scalp in one place half torn from his head so that a\ngreat piece hung down over one eye, obstructing his vision.\n\nBut so far the young Englishman had been able to keep those horrible\nfangs from his jugular and now, as they fought less fiercely for a\nmoment, to regain their breath, Tarzan formed a cunning plan.  He would\nwork his way to the other's back and, clinging there with tooth and\nnail, drive his knife home until Terkoz was no more.\n\nThe maneuver was accomplished more easily than he had hoped, for the\nstupid beast, not knowing what Tarzan was attempting, made no\nparticular effort to prevent the accomplishment of the design.\n\nBut when, finally, he realized that his antagonist was fastened to him\nwhere his teeth and fists alike were useless against him, Terkoz hurled\nhimself about upon the ground so violently that Tarzan could but cling\ndesperately to the leaping, turning, twisting body, and ere he had\nstruck a blow the knife was hurled from his hand by a heavy impact\nagainst the earth, and Tarzan found himself defenseless.\n\nDuring the rollings and squirmings of the next few minutes, Tarzan's\nhold was loosened a dozen times until finally an accidental\ncircumstance of those swift and everchanging evolutions gave him a new\nhold with his right hand, which he realized was absolutely unassailable.\n\nHis arm was passed beneath Terkoz's arm from behind and his hand and\nforearm encircled the back of Terkoz's neck.  It was the half-Nelson of\nmodern wrestling which the untaught ape-man had stumbled upon, but\nsuperior reason showed him in an instant the value of the thing he had\ndiscovered.  It was the difference to him between life and death.\n\nAnd so he struggled to encompass a similar hold with the left hand, and\nin a few moments Terkoz's bull neck was creaking beneath a full-Nelson.\n\nThere was no more lunging about now.  The two lay perfectly still upon\nthe ground, Tarzan upon Terkoz's back.  Slowly the bullet head of the\nape was being forced lower and lower upon his chest.\n\nTarzan knew what the result would be.  In an instant the neck would\nbreak.  Then there came to Terkoz's rescue the same thing that had put\nhim in these sore straits--a man's reasoning power.\n\n\"If I kill him,\" thought Tarzan, \"what advantage will it be to me?\nWill it not rob the tribe of a great fighter?  And if Terkoz be dead,\nhe will know nothing of my supremacy, while alive he will ever be an\nexample to the other apes.\"\n\n\"KA-GODA?\" hissed Tarzan in Terkoz's ear, which, in ape tongue, means,\nfreely translated:  \"Do you surrender?\"\n\nFor a moment there was no reply, and Tarzan added a few more ounces of\npressure, which elicited a horrified shriek of pain from the great\nbeast.\n\n\"KA-GODA?\" repeated Tarzan.\n\n\"KA-GODA!\" cried Terkoz.\n\n\"Listen,\" said Tarzan, easing up a trifle, but not releasing his hold.\n\"I am Tarzan, King of the Apes, mighty hunter, mighty fighter.  In all\nthe jungle there is none so great.\n\n\"You have said:  'KA-GODA' to me.  All the tribe have heard.  Quarrel\nno more with your king or your people, for next time I shall kill you.\nDo you understand?\"\n\n\"HUH,\" assented Terkoz.\n\n\"And you are satisfied?\"\n\n\"HUH,\" said the ape.\n\nTarzan let him up, and in a few minutes all were back at their\nvocations, as though naught had occurred to mar the tranquility of\ntheir primeval forest haunts.\n\nBut deep in the minds of the apes was rooted the conviction that Tarzan\nwas a mighty fighter and a strange creature.  Strange because he had\nhad it in his power to kill his enemy, but had allowed him to\nlive--unharmed.\n\nThat afternoon as the tribe came together, as was their wont before\ndarkness settled on the jungle, Tarzan, his wounds washed in the waters\nof the stream, called the old males about him.\n\n\"You have seen again to-day that Tarzan of the Apes is the greatest\namong you,\" he said.\n\n\"HUH,\" they replied with one voice, \"Tarzan is great.\"\n\n\"Tarzan,\" he continued, \"is not an ape.  He is not like his people.\nHis ways are not their ways, and so Tarzan is going back to the lair of\nhis own kind by the waters of the great lake which has no farther\nshore.  You must choose another to rule you, for Tarzan will not\nreturn.\"\n\nAnd thus young Lord Greystoke took the first step toward the goal which\nhe had set--the finding of other white men like himself.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIII\n\nHis Own Kind\n\n\nThe following morning, Tarzan, lame and sore from the wounds of his\nbattle with Terkoz, set out toward the west and the seacoast.\n\nHe traveled very slowly, sleeping in the jungle at night, and reaching\nhis cabin late the following morning.\n\nFor several days he moved about but little, only enough to gather what\nfruits and nuts he required to satisfy the demands of hunger.\n\nIn ten days he was quite sound again, except for a terrible,\nhalf-healed scar, which, starting above his left eye ran across the top\nof his head, ending at the right ear.  It was the mark left by Terkoz\nwhen he had torn the scalp away.\n\nDuring his convalescence Tarzan tried to fashion a mantle from the skin\nof Sabor, which had lain all this time in the cabin.  But he found the\nhide had dried as stiff as a board, and as he knew naught of tanning,\nhe was forced to abandon his cherished plan.\n\nThen he determined to filch what few garments he could from one of the\nblack men of Mbonga's village, for Tarzan of the Apes had decided to\nmark his evolution from the lower orders in every possible manner, and\nnothing seemed to him a more distinguishing badge of manhood than\nornaments and clothing.\n\nTo this end, therefore, he collected the various arm and leg ornaments\nhe had taken from the black warriors who had succumbed to his swift and\nsilent noose, and donned them all after the way he had seen them worn.\n\nAbout his neck hung the golden chain from which depended the diamond\nencrusted locket of his mother, the Lady Alice.  At his back was a\nquiver of arrows slung from a leathern shoulder belt, another piece of\nloot from some vanquished black.\n\nAbout his waist was a belt of tiny strips of rawhide fashioned by\nhimself as a support for the home-made scabbard in which hung his\nfather's hunting knife.  The long bow which had been Kulonga's hung\nover his left shoulder.\n\nThe young Lord Greystoke was indeed a strange and war-like figure, his\nmass of black hair falling to his shoulders behind and cut with his\nhunting knife to a rude bang upon his forehead, that it might not fall\nbefore his eyes.\n\nHis straight and perfect figure, muscled as the best of the ancient\nRoman gladiators must have been muscled, and yet with the soft and\nsinuous curves of a Greek god, told at a glance the wondrous\ncombination of enormous strength with suppleness and speed.\n\nA personification, was Tarzan of the Apes, of the primitive man, the\nhunter, the warrior.\n\nWith the noble poise of his handsome head upon those broad shoulders,\nand the fire of life and intelligence in those fine, clear eyes, he\nmight readily have typified some demigod of a wild and warlike bygone\npeople of his ancient forest.\n\nBut of these things Tarzan did not think.  He was worried because he\nhad not clothing to indicate to all the jungle folks that he was a man\nand not an ape, and grave doubt often entered his mind as to whether he\nmight not yet become an ape.\n\nWas not hair commencing to grow upon his face?  All the apes had hair\nupon theirs but the black men were entirely hairless, with very few\nexceptions.\n\nTrue, he had seen pictures in his books of men with great masses of\nhair upon lip and cheek and chin, but, nevertheless, Tarzan was afraid.\nAlmost daily he whetted his keen knife and scraped and whittled at his\nyoung beard to eradicate this degrading emblem of apehood.\n\nAnd so he learned to shave--rudely and painfully, it is true--but,\nnevertheless, effectively.\n\nWhen he felt quite strong again, after his bloody battle with Terkoz,\nTarzan set off one morning towards Mbonga's village.  He was moving\ncarelessly along a winding jungle trail, instead of making his progress\nthrough the trees, when suddenly he came face to face with a black\nwarrior.\n\nThe look of surprise on the savage face was almost comical, and before\nTarzan could unsling his bow the fellow had turned and fled down the\npath crying out in alarm as though to others before him.\n\nTarzan took to the trees in pursuit, and in a few moments came in view\nof the men desperately striving to escape.\n\nThere were three of them, and they were racing madly in single file\nthrough the dense undergrowth.\n\nTarzan easily distanced them, nor did they see his silent passage above\ntheir heads, nor note the crouching figure squatted upon a low branch\nahead of them beneath which the trail led them.\n\nTarzan let the first two pass beneath him, but as the third came\nswiftly on, the quiet noose dropped about the black throat.  A quick\njerk drew it taut.\n\nThere was an agonized scream from the victim, and his fellows turned to\nsee his struggling body rise as by magic slowly into the dense foliage\nof the trees above.\n\nWith frightened shrieks they wheeled once more and plunged on in their\nefforts to escape.\n\nTarzan dispatched his prisoner quickly and silently; removed the\nweapons and ornaments, and--oh, the greatest joy of all--a handsome\ndeerskin breechcloth, which he quickly transferred to his own person.\n\nNow indeed was he dressed as a man should be.  None there was who could\nnow doubt his high origin.  How he should have liked to have returned\nto the tribe to parade before their envious gaze this wondrous finery.\n\nTaking the body across his shoulder, he moved more slowly through the\ntrees toward the little palisaded village, for he again needed arrows.\n\nAs he approached quite close to the enclosure he saw an excited group\nsurrounding the two fugitives, who, trembling with fright and\nexhaustion, were scarce able to recount the uncanny details of their\nadventure.\n\nMirando, they said, who had been ahead of them a short distance, had\nsuddenly come screaming toward them, crying that a terrible white and\nnaked warrior was pursuing him.  The three of them had hurried toward\nthe village as rapidly as their legs would carry them.\n\nAgain Mirando's shrill cry of mortal terror had caused them to look\nback, and there they had seen the most horrible sight--their\ncompanion's body flying upwards into the trees, his arms and legs\nbeating the air and his tongue protruding from his open mouth.  No\nother sound did he utter nor was there any creature in sight about him.\n\nThe villagers were worked up into a state of fear bordering on panic,\nbut wise old Mbonga affected to feel considerable skepticism regarding\nthe tale, and attributed the whole fabrication to their fright in the\nface of some real danger.\n\n\"You tell us this great story,\" he said, \"because you do not dare to\nspeak the truth.  You do not dare admit that when the lion sprang upon\nMirando you ran away and left him.  You are cowards.\"\n\nScarcely had Mbonga ceased speaking when a great crashing of branches\nin the trees above them caused the blacks to look up in renewed terror.\nThe sight that met their eyes made even wise old Mbonga shudder, for\nthere, turning and twisting in the air, came the dead body of Mirando,\nto sprawl with a sickening reverberation upon the ground at their feet.\n\nWith one accord the blacks took to their heels; nor did they stop until\nthe last of them was lost in the dense shadows of the surrounding\njungle.\n\nAgain Tarzan came down into the village and renewed his supply of\narrows and ate of the offering of food which the blacks had made to\nappease his wrath.\n\nBefore he left he carried the body of Mirando to the gate of the\nvillage, and propped it up against the palisade in such a way that the\ndead face seemed to be peering around the edge of the gatepost down the\npath which led to the jungle.\n\nThen Tarzan returned, hunting, always hunting, to the cabin by the\nbeach.\n\nIt took a dozen attempts on the part of the thoroughly frightened\nblacks to reenter their village, past the horrible, grinning face of\ntheir dead fellow, and when they found the food and arrows gone they\nknew, what they had only too well feared, that Mirando had seen the\nevil spirit of the jungle.\n\nThat now seemed to them the logical explanation.  Only those who saw\nthis terrible god of the jungle died; for was it not true that none\nleft alive in the village had ever seen him?  Therefore, those who had\ndied at his hands must have seen him and paid the penalty with their\nlives.\n\nAs long as they supplied him with arrows and food he would not harm\nthem unless they looked upon him, so it was ordered by Mbonga that in\naddition to the food offering there should also be laid out an offering\nof arrows for this Munan-go-Keewati, and this was done from then on.\n\nIf you ever chance to pass that far off African village you will still\nsee before a tiny thatched hut, built just without the village, a\nlittle iron pot in which is a quantity of food, and beside it a quiver\nof well-daubed arrows.\n\nWhen Tarzan came in sight of the beach where stood his cabin, a strange\nand unusual spectacle met his vision.\n\nOn the placid waters of the landlocked harbor floated a great ship, and\non the beach a small boat was drawn up.\n\nBut, most wonderful of all, a number of white men like himself were\nmoving about between the beach and his cabin.\n\nTarzan saw that in many ways they were like the men of his picture\nbooks.  He crept closer through the trees until he was quite close\nabove them.\n\nThere were ten men, swarthy, sun-tanned, villainous looking fellows.\nNow they had congregated by the boat and were talking in loud, angry\ntones, with much gesticulating and shaking of fists.\n\nPresently one of them, a little, mean-faced, black-bearded fellow with\na countenance which reminded Tarzan of Pamba, the rat, laid his hand\nupon the shoulder of a giant who stood next him, and with whom all the\nothers had been arguing and quarreling.\n\nThe little man pointed inland, so that the giant was forced to turn\naway from the others to look in the direction indicated.  As he turned,\nthe little, mean-faced man drew a revolver from his belt and shot the\ngiant in the back.\n\nThe big fellow threw his hands above his head, his knees bent beneath\nhim, and without a sound he tumbled forward upon the beach, dead.\n\nThe report of the weapon, the first that Tarzan had ever heard, filled\nhim with wonderment, but even this unaccustomed sound could not startle\nhis healthy nerves into even a semblance of panic.\n\nThe conduct of the white strangers it was that caused him the greatest\nperturbation.  He puckered his brows into a frown of deep thought.  It\nwas well, thought he, that he had not given way to his first impulse to\nrush forward and greet these white men as brothers.\n\nThey were evidently no different from the black men--no more civilized\nthan the apes--no less cruel than Sabor.\n\nFor a moment the others stood looking at the little, mean-faced man and\nthe giant lying dead upon the beach.\n\nThen one of them laughed and slapped the little man upon the back.\nThere was much more talk and gesticulating, but less quarreling.\n\nPresently they launched the boat and all jumped into it and rowed away\ntoward the great ship, where Tarzan could see other figures moving\nabout upon the deck.\n\nWhen they had clambered aboard, Tarzan dropped to earth behind a great\ntree and crept to his cabin, keeping it always between himself and the\nship.\n\nSlipping in at the door he found that everything had been ransacked.\nHis books and pencils strewed the floor.  His weapons and shields and\nother little store of treasures were littered about.\n\nAs he saw what had been done a great wave of anger surged through him,\nand the new made scar upon his forehead stood suddenly out, a bar of\ninflamed crimson against his tawny hide.\n\nQuickly he ran to the cupboard and searched in the far recess of the\nlower shelf.  Ah!  He breathed a sigh of relief as he drew out the\nlittle tin box, and, opening it, found his greatest treasures\nundisturbed.\n\nThe photograph of the smiling, strong-faced young man, and the little\nblack puzzle book were safe.\n\nWhat was that?\n\nHis quick ear had caught a faint but unfamiliar sound.\n\nRunning to the window Tarzan looked toward the harbor, and there he saw\nthat a boat was being lowered from the great ship beside the one\nalready in the water.  Soon he saw many people clambering over the\nsides of the larger vessel and dropping into the boats.  They were\ncoming back in full force.\n\nFor a moment longer Tarzan watched while a number of boxes and bundles\nwere lowered into the waiting boats, then, as they shoved off from the\nship's side, the ape-man snatched up a piece of paper, and with a\npencil printed on it for a few moments until it bore several lines of\nstrong, well-made, almost letter-perfect characters.\n\nThis notice he stuck upon the door with a small sharp splinter of wood.\nThen gathering up his precious tin box, his arrows, and as many bows\nand spears as he could carry, he hastened through the door and\ndisappeared into the forest.\n\nWhen the two boats were beached upon the silvery sand it was a strange\nassortment of humanity that clambered ashore.\n\nSome twenty souls in all there were, fifteen of them rough and\nvillainous appearing seamen.\n\nThe others of the party were of different stamp.\n\nOne was an elderly man, with white hair and large rimmed spectacles.\nHis slightly stooped shoulders were draped in an ill-fitting, though\nimmaculate, frock coat, and a shiny silk hat added to the incongruity\nof his garb in an African jungle.\n\nThe second member of the party to land was a tall young man in white\nducks, while directly behind came another elderly man with a very high\nforehead and a fussy, excitable manner.\n\nAfter these came a huge Negress clothed like Solomon as to colors.  Her\ngreat eyes rolled in evident terror, first toward the jungle and then\ntoward the cursing band of sailors who were removing the bales and\nboxes from the boats.\n\nThe last member of the party to disembark was a girl of about nineteen,\nand it was the young man who stood at the boat's prow to lift her high\nand dry upon land.  She gave him a brave and pretty smile of thanks,\nbut no words passed between them.\n\nIn silence the party advanced toward the cabin.  It was evident that\nwhatever their intentions, all had been decided upon before they left\nthe ship; and so they came to the door, the sailors carrying the boxes\nand bales, followed by the five who were of so different a class.  The\nmen put down their burdens, and then one caught sight of the notice\nwhich Tarzan had posted.\n\n\"Ho, mates!\" he cried.  \"What's here?  This sign was not posted an hour\nago or I'll eat the cook.\"\n\nThe others gathered about, craning their necks over the shoulders of\nthose before them, but as few of them could read at all, and then only\nafter the most laborious fashion, one finally turned to the little old\nman of the top hat and frock coat.\n\n\"Hi, perfesser,\" he called, \"step for'rd and read the bloomin' notis.\"\n\nThus addressed, the old man came slowly to where the sailors stood,\nfollowed by the other members of his party.  Adjusting his spectacles\nhe looked for a moment at the placard and then, turning away, strolled\noff muttering to himself:  \"Most remarkable--most remarkable!\"\n\n\"Hi, old fossil,\" cried the man who had first called on him for\nassistance, \"did je think we wanted of you to read the bloomin' notis\nto yourself?  Come back here and read it out loud, you old barnacle.\"\n\nThe old man stopped and, turning back, said:  \"Oh, yes, my dear sir, a\nthousand pardons.  It was quite thoughtless of me, yes--very\nthoughtless.  Most remarkable--most remarkable!\"\n\nAgain he faced the notice and read it through, and doubtless would have\nturned off again to ruminate upon it had not the sailor grasped him\nroughly by the collar and howled into his ear.\n\n\"Read it out loud, you blithering old idiot.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes indeed, yes indeed,\" replied the professor softly, and\nadjusting his spectacles once more he read aloud:\n\n      THIS IS THE HOUSE OF TARZAN, THE\n  KILLER OF BEASTS AND MANY BLACK\n  MEN.  DO NOT HARM THE THINGS WHICH\n  ARE TARZAN'S.  TARZAN WATCHES.\n      TARZAN OF THE APES.\n\n\n\"Who the devil is Tarzan?\" cried the sailor who had before spoken.\n\n\"He evidently speaks English,\" said the young man.\n\n\"But what does 'Tarzan of the Apes' mean?\" cried the girl.\n\n\"I do not know, Miss Porter,\" replied the young man, \"unless we have\ndiscovered a runaway simian from the London Zoo who has brought back a\nEuropean education to his jungle home.  What do you make of it,\nProfessor Porter?\" he added, turning to the old man.\n\nProfessor Archimedes Q. Porter adjusted his spectacles.\n\n\"Ah, yes, indeed; yes indeed--most remarkable, most remarkable!\" said\nthe professor; \"but I can add nothing further to what I have already\nremarked in elucidation of this truly momentous occurrence,\" and the\nprofessor turned slowly in the direction of the jungle.\n\n\"But, papa,\" cried the girl, \"you haven't said anything about it yet.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, child; tut, tut,\" responded Professor Porter, in a kindly\nand indulgent tone, \"do not trouble your pretty head with such weighty\nand abstruse problems,\" and again he wandered slowly off in still\nanother direction, his eyes bent upon the ground at his feet, his hands\nclasped behind him beneath the flowing tails of his coat.\n\n\"I reckon the daffy old bounder don't know no more'n we do about it,\"\ngrowled the rat-faced sailor.\n\n\"Keep a civil tongue in your head,\" cried the young man, his face\npaling in anger, at the insulting tone of the sailor.  \"You've murdered\nour officers and robbed us.  We are absolutely in your power, but\nyou'll treat Professor Porter and Miss Porter with respect or I'll\nbreak that vile neck of yours with my bare hands--guns or no guns,\" and\nthe young fellow stepped so close to the rat-faced sailor that the\nlatter, though he bore two revolvers and a villainous looking knife in\nhis belt, slunk back abashed.\n\n\"You damned coward,\" cried the young man.  \"You'd never dare shoot a\nman until his back was turned.  You don't dare shoot me even then,\" and\nhe deliberately turned his back full upon the sailor and walked\nnonchalantly away as if to put him to the test.\n\nThe sailor's hand crept slyly to the butt of one of his revolvers; his\nwicked eyes glared vengefully at the retreating form of the young\nEnglishman.  The gaze of his fellows was upon him, but still he\nhesitated.  At heart he was even a greater coward than Mr. William\nCecil Clayton had imagined.\n\nTwo keen eyes had watched every move of the party from the foliage of a\nnearby tree.  Tarzan had seen the surprise caused by his notice, and\nwhile he could understand nothing of the spoken language of these\nstrange people their gestures and facial expressions told him much.\n\nThe act of the little rat-faced sailor in killing one of his comrades\nhad aroused a strong dislike in Tarzan, and now that he saw him\nquarreling with the fine-looking young man his animosity was still\nfurther stirred.\n\nTarzan had never seen the effects of a firearm before, though his books\nhad taught him something of them, but when he saw the rat-faced one\nfingering the butt of his revolver he thought of the scene he had\nwitnessed so short a time before, and naturally expected to see the\nyoung man murdered as had been the huge sailor earlier in the day.\n\nSo Tarzan fitted a poisoned arrow to his bow and drew a bead upon the\nrat-faced sailor, but the foliage was so thick that he soon saw the\narrow would be deflected by the leaves or some small branch, and\ninstead he launched a heavy spear from his lofty perch.\n\nClayton had taken but a dozen steps.  The rat-faced sailor had half\ndrawn his revolver; the other sailors stood watching the scene intently.\n\nProfessor Porter had already disappeared into the jungle, whither he\nwas being followed by the fussy Samuel T. Philander, his secretary and\nassistant.\n\nEsmeralda, the Negress, was busy sorting her mistress' baggage from the\npile of bales and boxes beside the cabin, and Miss Porter had turned\naway to follow Clayton, when something caused her to turn again toward\nthe sailor.\n\nAnd then three things happened almost simultaneously.  The sailor\njerked out his weapon and leveled it at Clayton's back, Miss Porter\nscreamed a warning, and a long, metal-shod spear shot like a bolt from\nabove and passed entirely through the right shoulder of the rat-faced\nman.\n\nThe revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and the seaman crumpled up\nwith a scream of pain and terror.\n\nClayton turned and rushed back toward the scene.  The sailors stood in\na frightened group, with drawn weapons, peering into the jungle.  The\nwounded man writhed and shrieked upon the ground.\n\nClayton, unseen by any, picked up the fallen revolver and slipped it\ninside his shirt, then he joined the sailors in gazing, mystified, into\nthe jungle.\n\n\"Who could it have been?\" whispered Jane Porter, and the young man\nturned to see her standing, wide-eyed and wondering, close beside him.\n\n\"I dare say Tarzan of the Apes is watching us all right,\" he answered,\nin a dubious tone.  \"I wonder, now, who that spear was intended for.\nIf for Snipes, then our ape friend is a friend indeed.\n\n\"By jove, where are your father and Mr. Philander?  There's someone or\nsomething in that jungle, and it's armed, whatever it is.  Ho!\nProfessor!  Mr. Philander!\" young Clayton shouted.  There was no\nresponse.\n\n\"What's to be done, Miss Porter?\" continued the young man, his face\nclouded by a frown of worry and indecision.\n\n\"I can't leave you here alone with these cutthroats, and you certainly\ncan't venture into the jungle with me; yet someone must go in search of\nyour father.  He is more than apt to wandering off aimlessly,\nregardless of danger or direction, and Mr. Philander is only a trifle\nless impractical than he.  You will pardon my bluntness, but our lives\nare all in jeopardy here, and when we get your father back something\nmust be done to impress upon him the dangers to which he exposes you as\nwell as himself by his absent-mindedness.\"\n\n\"I quite agree with you,\" replied the girl, \"and I am not offended at\nall.  Dear old papa would sacrifice his life for me without an\ninstant's hesitation, provided one could keep his mind on so frivolous\na matter for an entire instant.  There is only one way to keep him in\nsafety, and that is to chain him to a tree.  The poor dear is SO\nimpractical.\"\n\n\"I have it!\" suddenly exclaimed Clayton.  \"You can use a revolver,\ncan't you?\"\n\n\"Yes.  Why?\"\n\n\"I have one.  With it you and Esmeralda will be comparatively safe in\nthis cabin while I am searching for your father and Mr. Philander.\nCome, call the woman and I will hurry on.  They can't have gone far.\"\n\nJane did as he suggested and when he saw the door close safely behind\nthem Clayton turned toward the jungle.\n\nSome of the sailors were drawing the spear from their wounded comrade\nand, as Clayton approached, he asked if he could borrow a revolver from\none of them while he searched the jungle for the professor.\n\nThe rat-faced one, finding he was not dead, had regained his composure,\nand with a volley of oaths directed at Clayton refused in the name of\nhis fellows to allow the young man any firearms.\n\nThis man, Snipes, had assumed the role of chief since he had killed\ntheir former leader, and so little time had elapsed that none of his\ncompanions had as yet questioned his authority.\n\nClayton's only response was a shrug of the shoulders, but as he left\nthem he picked up the spear which had transfixed Snipes, and thus\nprimitively armed, the son of the then Lord Greystoke strode into the\ndense jungle.\n\nEvery few moments he called aloud the names of the wanderers.  The\nwatchers in the cabin by the beach heard the sound of his voice growing\never fainter and fainter, until at last it was swallowed up by the\nmyriad noises of the primeval wood.\n\nWhen Professor Archimedes Q. Porter and his assistant, Samuel T.\nPhilander, after much insistence on the part of the latter, had finally\nturned their steps toward camp, they were as completely lost in the\nwild and tangled labyrinth of the matted jungle as two human beings\nwell could be, though they did not know it.\n\nIt was by the merest caprice of fortune that they headed toward the\nwest coast of Africa, instead of toward Zanzibar on the opposite side\nof the dark continent.\n\nWhen in a short time they reached the beach, only to find no camp in\nsight, Philander was positive that they were north of their proper\ndestination, while, as a matter of fact they were about two hundred\nyards south of it.\n\nIt never occurred to either of these impractical theorists to call\naloud on the chance of attracting their friends' attention.  Instead,\nwith all the assurance that deductive reasoning from a wrong premise\ninduces in one, Mr. Samuel T. Philander grasped Professor Archimedes Q.\nPorter firmly by the arm and hurried the weakly protesting old\ngentleman off in the direction of Cape Town, fifteen hundred miles to\nthe south.\n\nWhen Jane and Esmeralda found themselves safely behind the cabin door\nthe Negress's first thought was to barricade the portal from the\ninside.  With this idea in mind she turned to search for some means of\nputting it into execution; but her first view of the interior of the\ncabin brought a shriek of terror to her lips, and like a frightened\nchild the huge woman ran to bury her face on her mistress' shoulder.\n\nJane, turning at the cry, saw the cause of it lying prone upon the\nfloor before them--the whitened skeleton of a man.  A further glance\nrevealed a second skeleton upon the bed.\n\n\"What horrible place are we in?\" murmured the awe-struck girl.  But\nthere was no panic in her fright.\n\nAt last, disengaging herself from the frantic clutch of the still\nshrieking Esmeralda, Jane crossed the room to look into the little\ncradle, knowing what she should see there even before the tiny skeleton\ndisclosed itself in all its pitiful and pathetic frailty.\n\nWhat an awful tragedy these poor mute bones proclaimed!  The girl\nshuddered at thought of the eventualities which might lie before\nherself and her friends in this ill-fated cabin, the haunt of\nmysterious, perhaps hostile, beings.\n\nQuickly, with an impatient stamp of her little foot, she endeavored to\nshake off the gloomy forebodings, and turning to Esmeralda bade her\ncease her wailing.\n\n\"Stop, Esmeralda, stop it this minute!\" she cried.  \"You are only\nmaking it worse.\"\n\nShe ended lamely, a little quiver in her own voice as she thought of\nthe three men, upon whom she depended for protection, wandering in the\ndepth of that awful forest.\n\nSoon the girl found that the door was equipped with a heavy wooden bar\nupon the inside, and after several efforts the combined strength of the\ntwo enabled them to slip it into place, the first time in twenty years.\n\nThen they sat down upon a bench with their arms about one another, and\nwaited.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIV\n\nAt the Mercy of the Jungle\n\n\nAfter Clayton had plunged into the jungle, the sailors--mutineers of\nthe Arrow--fell into a discussion of their next step; but on one point\nall were agreed--that they should hasten to put off to the anchored\nArrow, where they could at least be safe from the spears of their\nunseen foe.  And so, while Jane Porter and Esmeralda were barricading\nthemselves within the cabin, the cowardly crew of cutthroats were\npulling rapidly for their ship in the two boats that had brought them\nashore.\n\nSo much had Tarzan seen that day that his head was in a whirl of\nwonder.  But the most wonderful sight of all, to him, was the face of\nthe beautiful white girl.\n\nHere at last was one of his own kind; of that he was positive.  And the\nyoung man and the two old men; they, too, were much as he had pictured\nhis own people to be.\n\nBut doubtless they were as ferocious and cruel as other men he had\nseen.  The fact that they alone of all the party were unarmed might\naccount for the fact that they had killed no one.  They might be very\ndifferent if provided with weapons.\n\nTarzan had seen the young man pick up the fallen revolver of the\nwounded Snipes and hide it away in his breast; and he had also seen him\nslip it cautiously to the girl as she entered the cabin door.\n\nHe did not understand anything of the motives behind all that he had\nseen; but, somehow, intuitively he liked the young man and the two old\nmen, and for the girl he had a strange longing which he scarcely\nunderstood.  As for the big black woman, she was evidently connected in\nsome way to the girl, and so he liked her, also.\n\nFor the sailors, and especially Snipes, he had developed a great\nhatred.  He knew by their threatening gestures and by the expression\nupon their evil faces that they were enemies of the others of the\nparty, and so he decided to watch closely.\n\nTarzan wondered why the men had gone into the jungle, nor did it ever\noccur to him that one could become lost in that maze of undergrowth\nwhich to him was as simple as is the main street of your own home town\nto you.\n\nWhen he saw the sailors row away toward the ship, and knew that the\ngirl and her companion were safe in his cabin, Tarzan decided to follow\nthe young man into the jungle and learn what his errand might be.  He\nswung off rapidly in the direction taken by Clayton, and in a short\ntime heard faintly in the distance the now only occasional calls of the\nEnglishman to his friends.\n\nPresently Tarzan came up with the white man, who, almost fagged, was\nleaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from his forehead.  The\nape-man, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching this new\nspecimen of his own race intently.\n\nAt intervals Clayton called aloud and finally it came to Tarzan that he\nwas searching for the old man.\n\nTarzan was on the point of going off to look for them himself, when he\ncaught the yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the\njungle toward Clayton.\n\nIt was Sheeta, the leopard.  Now, Tarzan heard the soft bending of\ngrasses and wondered why the young white man was not warned.  Could it\nbe he had failed to note the loud warning?  Never before had Tarzan\nknown Sheeta to be so clumsy.\n\nNo, the white man did not hear.  Sheeta was crouching for the spring,\nand then, shrill and horrible, there rose from the stillness of the\njungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and Sheeta turned,\ncrashing into the underbrush.\n\nClayton came to his feet with a start.  His blood ran cold.  Never in\nall his life had so fearful a sound smote upon his ears.  He was no\ncoward; but if ever man felt the icy fingers of fear upon his heart,\nWilliam Cecil Clayton, eldest son of Lord Greystoke of England, did\nthat day in the fastness of the African jungle.\n\nThe noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close\nbeside him, and the sound of that bloodcurdling shriek from above,\ntested Clayton's courage to the limit; but he could not know that it\nwas to that very voice he owed his life, nor that the creature who\nhurled it forth was his own cousin--the real Lord Greystoke.\n\nThe afternoon was drawing to a close, and Clayton, disheartened and\ndiscouraged, was in a terrible quandary as to the proper course to\npursue; whether to keep on in search of Professor Porter, at the almost\ncertain risk of his own death in the jungle by night, or to return to\nthe cabin where he might at least serve to protect Jane from the perils\nwhich confronted her on all sides.\n\nHe did not wish to return to camp without her father; still more, he\nshrank from the thought of leaving her alone and unprotected in the\nhands of the mutineers of the Arrow, or to the hundred unknown dangers\nof the jungle.\n\nPossibly, too, he thought, the professor and Philander might have\nreturned to camp.  Yes, that was more than likely.  At least he would\nreturn and see, before he continued what seemed to be a most fruitless\nquest.  And so he started, stumbling back through the thick and matted\nunderbrush in the direction that he thought the cabin lay.\n\nTo Tarzan's surprise the young man was heading further into the jungle\nin the general direction of Mbonga's village, and the shrewd young\nape-man was convinced that he was lost.\n\nTo Tarzan this was scarcely comprehensible; his judgment told him\nthat no man would venture toward the village of the cruel blacks armed\nonly with a spear which, from the awkward way in which he carried it,\nwas evidently an unaccustomed weapon to this white man.  Nor was he\nfollowing the trail of the old men.  That, they had crossed and left\nlong since, though it had been fresh and plain before Tarzan's eyes.\n\nTarzan was perplexed.  The fierce jungle would make easy prey of this\nunprotected stranger in a very short time if he were not guided quickly\nto the beach.\n\nYes, there was Numa, the lion, even now, stalking the white man a dozen\npaces to the right.\n\nClayton heard the great body paralleling his course, and now there rose\nupon the evening air the beast's thunderous roar.  The man stopped with\nupraised spear and faced the brush from which issued the awful sound.\nThe shadows were deepening, darkness was settling in.\n\nGod!  To die here alone, beneath the fangs of wild beasts; to be torn\nand rended; to feel the hot breath of the brute on his face as the\ngreat paw crushed down upon his breast!\n\nFor a moment all was still.  Clayton stood rigid, with raised spear.\nPresently a faint rustling of the bush apprised him of the stealthy\ncreeping of the thing behind.  It was gathering for the spring.  At\nlast he saw it, not twenty feet away--the long, lithe, muscular body\nand tawny head of a huge black-maned lion.\n\nThe beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly.  As its eyes\nmet Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately, cautiously gathered its\nhind quarters behind it.\n\nIn agony the man watched, fearful to launch his spear, powerless to fly.\n\nHe heard a noise in the tree above him.  Some new danger, he thought,\nbut he dared not take his eyes from the yellow green orbs before him.\nThere was a sharp twang as of a broken banjo-string, and at the same\ninstant an arrow appeared in the yellow hide of the crouching lion.\n\nWith a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang; but, somehow, Clayton\nstumbled to one side, and as he turned again to face the infuriated\nking of beasts, he was appalled at the sight which confronted him.\nAlmost simultaneously with the lion's turning to renew the attack a\nhalf-naked giant dropped from the tree above squarely on the brute's\nback.\n\nWith lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron muscle\nencircled the huge neck, and the great beast was raised from behind,\nroaring and pawing the air--raised as easily as Clayton would have\nlifted a pet dog.\n\nThe scene he witnessed there in the twilight depths of the African\njungle was burned forever into the Englishman's brain.\n\nThe man before him was the embodiment of physical perfection and giant\nstrength; yet it was not upon these he depended in his battle with the\ngreat cat, for mighty as were his muscles, they were as nothing by\ncomparison with Numa's.  To his agility, to his brain and to his long\nkeen knife he owed his supremacy.\n\nHis right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand plunged\nthe knife time and again into the unprotected side behind the left\nshoulder.  The infuriated beast, pulled up and backwards until he stood\nupon his hind legs, struggled impotently in this unnatural position.\n\nHad the battle been of a few seconds' longer duration the outcome might\nhave been different, but it was all accomplished so quickly that the\nlion had scarce time to recover from the confusion of its surprise ere\nit sank lifeless to the ground.\n\nThen the strange figure which had vanquished it stood erect upon the\ncarcass, and throwing back the wild and handsome head, gave out the\nfearsome cry which a few moments earlier had so startled Clayton.\n\nBefore him he saw the figure of a young man, naked except for a loin\ncloth and a few barbaric ornaments about arms and legs; on the breast a\npriceless diamond locket gleaming against a smooth brown skin.\n\nThe hunting knife had been returned to its homely sheath, and the man\nwas gathering up his bow and quiver from where he had tossed them when\nhe leaped to attack the lion.\n\nClayton spoke to the stranger in English, thanking him for his brave\nrescue and complimenting him on the wondrous strength and dexterity he\nhad displayed, but the only answer was a steady stare and a faint shrug\nof the mighty shoulders, which might betoken either disparagement of\nthe service rendered, or ignorance of Clayton's language.\n\nWhen the bow and quiver had been slung to his back the wild man, for\nsuch Clayton now thought him, once more drew his knife and deftly\ncarved a dozen large strips of meat from the lion's carcass.  Then,\nsquatting upon his haunches, he proceeded to eat, first motioning\nClayton to join him.\n\nThe strong white teeth sank into the raw and dripping flesh in apparent\nrelish of the meal, but Clayton could not bring himself to share the\nuncooked meat with his strange host; instead he watched him, and\npresently there dawned upon him the conviction that this was Tarzan of\nthe Apes, whose notice he had seen posted upon the cabin door that\nmorning.\n\nIf so he must speak English.\n\nAgain Clayton attempted speech with the ape-man; but the replies, now\nvocal, were in a strange tongue, which resembled the chattering of\nmonkeys mingled with the growling of some wild beast.\n\nNo, this could not be Tarzan of the Apes, for it was very evident that\nhe was an utter stranger to English.\n\nWhen Tarzan had completed his repast he rose and, pointing a very\ndifferent direction from that which Clayton had been pursuing, started\noff through the jungle toward the point he had indicated.\n\nClayton, bewildered and confused, hesitated to follow him, for he\nthought he was but being led more deeply into the mazes of the forest;\nbut the ape-man, seeing him disinclined to follow, returned, and,\ngrasping him by the coat, dragged him along until he was convinced that\nClayton understood what was required of him.  Then he left him to\nfollow voluntarily.\n\nThe Englishman, finally concluding that he was a prisoner, saw no\nalternative open but to accompany his captor, and thus they traveled\nslowly through the jungle while the sable mantle of the impenetrable\nforest night fell about them, and the stealthy footfalls of padded paws\nmingled with the breaking of twigs and the wild calls of the savage\nlife that Clayton felt closing in upon him.\n\nSuddenly Clayton heard the faint report of a firearm--a single shot,\nand then silence.\n\nIn the cabin by the beach two thoroughly terrified women clung to each\nother as they crouched upon the low bench in the gathering darkness.\n\nThe Negress sobbed hysterically, bemoaning the evil day that had\nwitnessed her departure from her dear Maryland, while the white girl,\ndry eyed and outwardly calm, was torn by inward fears and forebodings.\nShe feared not more for herself than for the three men whom she knew to\nbe wandering in the abysmal depths of the savage jungle, from which she\nnow heard issuing the almost incessant shrieks and roars, barkings and\ngrowlings of its terrifying and fearsome denizens as they sought their\nprey.\n\nAnd now there came the sound of a heavy body brushing against the side\nof the cabin.  She could hear the great padded paws upon the ground\noutside.  For an instant, all was silence; even the bedlam of the\nforest died to a faint murmur.  Then she distinctly heard the beast\noutside sniffing at the door, not two feet from where she crouched.\nInstinctively the girl shuddered, and shrank closer to the black woman.\n\n\"Hush!\" she whispered.  \"Hush, Esmeralda,\" for the woman's sobs and\ngroans seemed to have attracted the thing that stalked there just\nbeyond the thin wall.\n\nA gentle scratching sound was heard on the door.  The brute tried to\nforce an entrance; but presently this ceased, and again she heard the\ngreat pads creeping stealthily around the cabin.  Again they\nstopped--beneath the window on which the terrified eyes of the girl now\nglued themselves.\n\n\"God!\" she murmured, for now, silhouetted against the moonlit sky\nbeyond, she saw framed in the tiny square of the latticed window the\nhead of a huge lioness.  The gleaming eyes were fixed upon her in\nintent ferocity.\n\n\"Look, Esmeralda!\" she whispered.  \"For God's sake, what shall we do?\nLook!  Quick!  The window!\"\n\nEsmeralda, cowering still closer to her mistress, took one frightened\nglance toward the little square of moonlight, just as the lioness\nemitted a low, savage snarl.\n\nThe sight that met the poor woman's eyes was too much for the already\noverstrung nerves.\n\n\"Oh, Gaberelle!\" she shrieked, and slid to the floor an inert and\nsenseless mass.\n\nFor what seemed an eternity the great brute stood with its forepaws\nupon the sill, glaring into the little room.  Presently it tried the\nstrength of the lattice with its great talons.\n\nThe girl had almost ceased to breathe, when, to her relief, the head\ndisappeared and she heard the brute's footsteps leaving the window.\nBut now they came to the door again, and once more the scratching\ncommenced; this time with increasing force until the great beast was\ntearing at the massive panels in a perfect frenzy of eagerness to seize\nits defenseless victims.\n\nCould Jane have known the immense strength of that door, built piece by\npiece, she would have felt less fear of the lioness reaching her by\nthis avenue.\n\nLittle did John Clayton imagine when he fashioned that crude but mighty\nportal that one day, twenty years later, it would shield a fair\nAmerican girl, then unborn, from the teeth and talons of a man-eater.\n\nFor fully twenty minutes the brute alternately sniffed and tore at the\ndoor, occasionally giving voice to a wild, savage cry of baffled rage.\nAt length, however, she gave up the attempt, and Jane heard her\nreturning toward the window, beneath which she paused for an instant,\nand then launched her great weight against the timeworn lattice.\n\nThe girl heard the wooden rods groan beneath the impact; but they held,\nand the huge body dropped back to the ground below.\n\nAgain and again the lioness repeated these tactics, until finally the\nhorrified prisoner within saw a portion of the lattice give way, and in\nan instant one great paw and the head of the animal were thrust within\nthe room.\n\nSlowly the powerful neck and shoulders spread the bars apart, and the\nlithe body protruded farther and farther into the room.\n\nAs in a trance, the girl rose, her hand upon her breast, wide eyes\nstaring horror-stricken into the snarling face of the beast scarce ten\nfeet from her.  At her feet lay the prostrate form of the Negress.  If\nshe could but arouse her, their combined efforts might possibly avail\nto beat back the fierce and bloodthirsty intruder.\n\nJane stooped to grasp the black woman by the shoulder.  Roughly she\nshook her.\n\n\"Esmeralda!  Esmeralda!\" she cried.  \"Help me, or we are lost.\"\n\nEsmeralda opened her eyes.  The first object they encountered was the\ndripping fangs of the hungry lioness.\n\nWith a horrified scream the poor woman rose to her hands and knees, and\nin this position scurried across the room, shrieking: \"O Gaberelle!  O\nGaberelle!\" at the top of her lungs.\n\nEsmeralda weighed some two hundred and eighty pounds, and her extreme\nhaste, added to her extreme corpulency, produced a most amazing result\nwhen Esmeralda elected to travel on all fours.\n\nFor a moment the lioness remained quiet with intense gaze directed upon\nthe flitting Esmeralda, whose goal appeared to be the cupboard, into\nwhich she attempted to propel her huge bulk; but as the shelves were\nbut nine or ten inches apart, she only succeeded in getting her head\nin; whereupon, with a final screech, which paled the jungle noises into\ninsignificance, she fainted once again.\n\nWith the subsidence of Esmeralda the lioness renewed her efforts to\nwriggle her huge bulk through the weakening lattice.\n\nThe girl, standing pale and rigid against the farther wall, sought with\never-increasing terror for some loophole of escape.  Suddenly her hand,\ntight-pressed against her bosom, felt the hard outline of the revolver\nthat Clayton had left with her earlier in the day.\n\nQuickly she snatched it from its hiding-place, and, leveling it full at\nthe lioness's face, pulled the trigger.\n\nThere was a flash of flame, the roar of the discharge, and an answering\nroar of pain and anger from the beast.\n\nJane Porter saw the great form disappear from the window, and then she,\ntoo, fainted, the revolver falling at her side.\n\nBut Sabor was not killed.  The bullet had but inflicted a painful wound\nin one of the great shoulders.  It was the surprise at the blinding\nflash and the deafening roar that had caused her hasty but temporary\nretreat.\n\nIn another instant she was back at the lattice, and with renewed fury\nwas clawing at the aperture, but with lessened effect, since the\nwounded member was almost useless.\n\nShe saw her prey--the two women--lying senseless upon the floor.  There\nwas no longer any resistance to be overcome.  Her meat lay before her,\nand Sabor had only to worm her way through the lattice to claim it.\n\nSlowly she forced her great bulk, inch by inch, through the opening.\nNow her head was through, now one great forearm and shoulder.\n\nCarefully she drew up the wounded member to insinuate it gently beyond\nthe tight pressing bars.\n\nA moment more and both shoulders through, the long, sinuous body and\nthe narrow hips would glide quickly after.\n\nIt was on this sight that Jane Porter again opened her eyes.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XV\n\nThe Forest God\n\n\nWhen Clayton heard the report of the firearm he fell into an agony of\nfear and apprehension.  He knew that one of the sailors might be the\nauthor of it; but the fact that he had left the revolver with Jane,\ntogether with the overwrought condition of his nerves, made him\nmorbidly positive that she was threatened with some great danger.\nPerhaps even now she was attempting to defend herself against some\nsavage man or beast.\n\nWhat were the thoughts of his strange captor or guide Clayton could\nonly vaguely conjecture; but that he had heard the shot, and was in\nsome manner affected by it was quite evident, for he quickened his pace\nso appreciably that Clayton, stumbling blindly in his wake, was down a\ndozen times in as many minutes in a vain effort to keep pace with him,\nand soon was left hopelessly behind.\n\nFearing that he would again be irretrievably lost, he called aloud to\nthe wild man ahead of him, and in a moment had the satisfaction of\nseeing him drop lightly to his side from the branches above.\n\nFor a moment Tarzan looked at the young man closely, as though\nundecided as to just what was best to do; then, stooping down before\nClayton, he motioned him to grasp him about the neck, and, with the\nwhite man upon his back, Tarzan took to the trees.\n\nThe next few minutes the young Englishman never forgot.  High into\nbending and swaying branches he was borne with what seemed to him\nincredible swiftness, while Tarzan chafed at the slowness of his\nprogress.\n\nFrom one lofty branch the agile creature swung with Clayton through a\ndizzy arc to a neighboring tree; then for a hundred yards maybe the\nsure feet threaded a maze of interwoven limbs, balancing like a\ntightrope walker high above the black depths of verdure beneath.\n\nFrom the first sensation of chilling fear Clayton passed to one of keen\nadmiration and envy of those giant muscles and that wondrous instinct\nor knowledge which guided this forest god through the inky blackness of\nthe night as easily and safely as Clayton would have strolled a London\nstreet at high noon.\n\nOccasionally they would enter a spot where the foliage above was less\ndense, and the bright rays of the moon lit up before Clayton's\nwondering eyes the strange path they were traversing.\n\nAt such times the man fairly caught his breath at sight of the horrid\ndepths below them, for Tarzan took the easiest way, which often led\nover a hundred feet above the earth.\n\nAnd yet with all his seeming speed, Tarzan was in reality feeling his\nway with comparative slowness, searching constantly for limbs of\nadequate strength for the maintenance of this double weight.\n\nPresently they came to the clearing before the beach.  Tarzan's quick\nears had heard the strange sounds of Sabor's efforts to force her way\nthrough the lattice, and it seemed to Clayton that they dropped a\nstraight hundred feet to earth, so quickly did Tarzan descend.  Yet\nwhen they struck the ground it was with scarce a jar; and as Clayton\nreleased his hold on the ape-man he saw him dart like a squirrel for\nthe opposite side of the cabin.\n\nThe Englishman sprang quickly after him just in time to see the hind\nquarters of some huge animal about to disappear through the window of\nthe cabin.\n\nAs Jane opened her eyes to a realization of the imminent peril which\nthreatened her, her brave young heart gave up at last its final vestige\nof hope.  But then to her surprise she saw the huge animal being slowly\ndrawn back through the window, and in the moonlight beyond she saw the\nheads and shoulders of two men.\n\nAs Clayton rounded the corner of the cabin to behold the animal\ndisappearing within, it was also to see the ape-man seize the long tail\nin both hands, and, bracing himself with his feet against the side of\nthe cabin, throw all his mighty strength into the effort to draw the\nbeast out of the interior.\n\nClayton was quick to lend a hand, but the ape-man jabbered to him in a\ncommanding and peremptory tone something which Clayton knew to be\norders, though he could not understand them.\n\nAt last, under their combined efforts, the great body was slowly\ndragged farther and farther outside the window, and then there came to\nClayton's mind a dawning conception of the rash bravery of his\ncompanion's act.\n\nFor a naked man to drag a shrieking, clawing man-eater forth from a\nwindow by the tail to save a strange white girl, was indeed the last\nword in heroism.\n\nInsofar as Clayton was concerned it was a very different matter, since\nthe girl was not only of his own kind and race, but was the one woman\nin all the world whom he loved.\n\nThough he knew that the lioness would make short work of both of them,\nhe pulled with a will to keep it from Jane Porter.  And then he\nrecalled the battle between this man and the great, black-maned lion\nwhich he had witnessed a short time before, and he commenced to feel\nmore assurance.\n\nTarzan was still issuing orders which Clayton could not understand.\n\nHe was trying to tell the stupid white man to plunge his poisoned\narrows into Sabor's back and sides, and to reach the savage heart with\nthe long, thin hunting knife that hung at Tarzan's hip; but the man\nwould not understand, and Tarzan did not dare release his hold to do\nthe things himself, for he knew that the puny white man never could\nhold mighty Sabor alone, for an instant.\n\nSlowly the lioness was emerging from the window.  At last her shoulders\nwere out.\n\nAnd then Clayton saw an incredible thing.  Tarzan, racking his brains\nfor some means to cope single-handed with the infuriated beast, had\nsuddenly recalled his battle with Terkoz; and as the great shoulders\ncame clear of the window, so that the lioness hung upon the sill only\nby her forepaws, Tarzan suddenly released his hold upon the brute.\n\nWith the quickness of a striking rattler he launched himself full upon\nSabor's back, his strong young arms seeking and gaining a full-Nelson\nupon the beast, as he had learned it that other day during his bloody,\nwrestling victory over Terkoz.\n\nWith a roar the lioness turned completely over upon her back, falling\nfull upon her enemy; but the black-haired giant only closed tighter his\nhold.\n\nPawing and tearing at earth and air, Sabor rolled and threw herself\nthis way and that in an effort to dislodge this strange antagonist; but\never tighter and tighter drew the iron bands that were forcing her head\nlower and lower upon her tawny breast.\n\nHigher crept the steel forearms of the ape-man about the back of\nSabor's neck.  Weaker and weaker became the lioness's efforts.\n\nAt last Clayton saw the immense muscles of Tarzan's shoulders and\nbiceps leap into corded knots beneath the silver moonlight.  There was\na long sustained and supreme effort on the ape-man's part--and the\nvertebrae of Sabor's neck parted with a sharp snap.\n\nIn an instant Tarzan was upon his feet, and for the second time that\nday Clayton heard the bull ape's savage roar of victory.  Then he heard\nJane's agonized cry:\n\n\"Cecil--Mr. Clayton!  Oh, what is it?  What is it?\"\n\nRunning quickly to the cabin door, Clayton called out that all was\nright, and shouted to her to open the door.  As quickly as she could\nshe raised the great bar and fairly dragged Clayton within.\n\n\"What was that awful noise?\" she whispered, shrinking close to him.\n\n\"It was the cry of the kill from the throat of the man who has just\nsaved your life, Miss Porter.  Wait, I will fetch him so you may thank\nhim.\"\n\nThe frightened girl would not be left alone, so she accompanied Clayton\nto the side of the cabin where lay the dead body of the lioness.\n\nTarzan of the Apes was gone.\n\nClayton called several times, but there was no reply, and so the two\nreturned to the greater safety of the interior.\n\n\"What a frightful sound!\" cried Jane, \"I shudder at the mere thought of\nit.  Do not tell me that a human throat voiced that hideous and\nfearsome shriek.\"\n\n\"But it did, Miss Porter,\" replied Clayton; \"or at least if not a human\nthroat that of a forest god.\"\n\nAnd then he told her of his experiences with this strange creature--of\nhow twice the wild man had saved his life--of the wondrous strength,\nand agility, and bravery--of the brown skin and the handsome face.\n\n\"I cannot make it out at all,\" he concluded.  \"At first I thought he\nmight be Tarzan of the Apes; but he neither speaks nor understands\nEnglish, so that theory is untenable.\"\n\n\"Well, whatever he may be,\" cried the girl, \"we owe him our lives, and\nmay God bless him and keep him in safety in his wild and savage jungle!\"\n\n\"Amen,\" said Clayton, fervently.\n\n\"For the good Lord's sake, ain't I dead?\"\n\nThe two turned to see Esmeralda sitting upright upon the floor, her\ngreat eyes rolling from side to side as though she could not believe\ntheir testimony as to her whereabouts.\n\nAnd now, for Jane Porter, the reaction came, and she threw herself upon\nthe bench, sobbing with hysterical laughter.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVI\n\n\"Most Remarkable\"\n\n\nSeveral miles south of the cabin, upon a strip of sandy beach, stood\ntwo old men, arguing.\n\nBefore them stretched the broad Atlantic.  At their backs was the Dark\nContinent.  Close around them loomed the impenetrable blackness of the\njungle.\n\nSavage beasts roared and growled; noises, hideous and weird, assailed\ntheir ears.  They had wandered for miles in search of their camp, but\nalways in the wrong direction.  They were as hopelessly lost as though\nthey suddenly had been transported to another world.\n\nAt such a time, indeed, every fiber of their combined intellects must\nhave been concentrated upon the vital question of the minute--the\nlife-and-death question to them of retracing their steps to camp.\n\nSamuel T. Philander was speaking.\n\n\"But, my dear professor,\" he was saying, \"I still maintain that but for\nthe victories of Ferdinand and Isabella over the fifteenth-century\nMoors in Spain the world would be today a thousand years in advance of\nwhere we now find ourselves.  The Moors were essentially a tolerant,\nbroad-minded, liberal race of agriculturists, artisans and\nmerchants--the very type of people that has made possible such\ncivilization as we find today in America and Europe--while the\nSpaniards--\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, dear Mr. Philander,\" interrupted Professor Porter; \"their\nreligion positively precluded the possibilities you suggest.  Moslemism\nwas, is, and always will be, a blight on that scientific progress which\nhas marked--\"\n\n\"Bless me!  Professor,\" interjected Mr. Philander, who had turned his\ngaze toward the jungle, \"there seems to be someone approaching.\"\n\nProfessor Archimedes Q. Porter turned in the direction indicated by the\nnearsighted Mr. Philander.\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander,\" he chided.  \"How often must I urge you to\nseek that absolute concentration of your mental faculties which alone\nmay permit you to bring to bear the highest powers of intellectuality\nupon the momentous problems which naturally fall to the lot of great\nminds?  And now I find you guilty of a most flagrant breach of courtesy\nin interrupting my learned discourse to call attention to a mere\nquadruped of the genus FELIS.  As I was saying, Mr.--\"\n\n\"Heavens, Professor, a lion?\" cried Mr. Philander, straining his weak\neyes toward the dim figure outlined against the dark tropical\nunderbrush.\n\n\"Yes, yes, Mr. Philander, if you insist upon employing slang in your\ndiscourse, a 'lion.'  But as I was saying--\"\n\n\"Bless me, Professor,\" again interrupted Mr. Philander; \"permit me to\nsuggest that doubtless the Moors who were conquered in the fifteenth\ncentury will continue in that most regrettable condition for the time\nbeing at least, even though we postpone discussion of that world\ncalamity until we may attain the enchanting view of yon FELIS CARNIVORA\nwhich distance proverbially is credited with lending.\"\n\nIn the meantime the lion had approached with quiet dignity to within\nten paces of the two men, where he stood curiously watching them.\n\nThe moonlight flooded the beach, and the strange group stood out in\nbold relief against the yellow sand.\n\n\"Most reprehensible, most reprehensible,\" exclaimed Professor Porter,\nwith a faint trace of irritation in his voice.  \"Never, Mr. Philander,\nnever before in my life have I known one of these animals to be\npermitted to roam at large from its cage.  I shall most certainly\nreport this outrageous breach of ethics to the directors of the\nadjacent zoological garden.\"\n\n\"Quite right, Professor,\" agreed Mr. Philander, \"and the sooner it is\ndone the better.  Let us start now.\"\n\nSeizing the professor by the arm, Mr. Philander set off in the\ndirection that would put the greatest distance between themselves and\nthe lion.\n\nThey had proceeded but a short distance when a backward glance revealed\nto the horrified gaze of Mr. Philander that the lion was following\nthem.  He tightened his grip upon the protesting professor and\nincreased his speed.\n\n\"As I was saying, Mr. Philander,\" repeated Professor Porter.\n\nMr. Philander took another hasty glance rearward.  The lion also had\nquickened his gait, and was doggedly maintaining an unvarying distance\nbehind them.\n\n\"He is following us!\" gasped Mr. Philander, breaking into a run.\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander,\" remonstrated the professor, \"this unseemly\nhaste is most unbecoming to men of letters.  What will our friends\nthink of us, who may chance to be upon the street and witness our\nfrivolous antics?  Pray let us proceed with more decorum.\"\n\nMr. Philander stole another observation astern.\n\nThe lion was bounding along in easy leaps scarce five paces behind.\n\nMr. Philander dropped the professor's arm, and broke into a mad orgy of\nspeed that would have done credit to any varsity track team.\n\n\"As I was saying, Mr. Philander--\" screamed Professor Porter, as,\nmetaphorically speaking, he himself \"threw her into high.\"  He, too,\nhad caught a fleeting backward glimpse of cruel yellow eyes and half\nopen mouth within startling proximity of his person.\n\nWith streaming coat tails and shiny silk hat Professor Archimedes Q.\nPorter fled through the moonlight close upon the heels of Mr. Samuel T.\nPhilander.\n\nBefore them a point of the jungle ran out toward a narrow promontory,\nand it was for the haven of the trees he saw there that Mr. Samuel T.\nPhilander directed his prodigious leaps and bounds; while from the\nshadows of this same spot peered two keen eyes in interested\nappreciation of the race.\n\nIt was Tarzan of the Apes who watched, with face a-grin, this odd game\nof follow-the-leader.\n\nHe knew the two men were safe enough from attack in so far as the lion\nwas concerned.  The very fact that Numa had foregone such easy prey at\nall convinced the wise forest craft of Tarzan that Numa's belly already\nwas full.\n\nThe lion might stalk them until hungry again; but the chances were that\nif not angered he would soon tire of the sport, and slink away to his\njungle lair.\n\nReally, the one great danger was that one of the men might stumble and\nfall, and then the yellow devil would be upon him in a moment and the\njoy of the kill would be too great a temptation to withstand.\n\nSo Tarzan swung quickly to a lower limb in line with the approaching\nfugitives; and as Mr. Samuel T. Philander came panting and blowing\nbeneath him, already too spent to struggle up to the safety of the\nlimb, Tarzan reached down and, grasping him by the collar of his coat,\nyanked him to the limb by his side.\n\nAnother moment brought the professor within the sphere of the friendly\ngrip, and he, too, was drawn upward to safety just as the baffled Numa,\nwith a roar, leaped to recover his vanishing quarry.\n\nFor a moment the two men clung panting to the great branch, while\nTarzan squatted with his back to the stem of the tree, watching them\nwith mingled curiosity and amusement.\n\nIt was the professor who first broke the silence.\n\n\"I am deeply pained, Mr. Philander, that you should have evinced such a\npaucity of manly courage in the presence of one of the lower orders,\nand by your crass timidity have caused me to exert myself to such an\nunaccustomed degree in order that I might resume my discourse.  As I\nwas saying, Mr. Philander, when you interrupted me, the Moors--\"\n\n\"Professor Archimedes Q. Porter,\" broke in Mr. Philander, in icy tones,\n\"the time has arrived when patience becomes a crime and mayhem appears\ngarbed in the mantle of virtue.  You have accused me of cowardice.  You\nhave insinuated that you ran only to overtake me, not to escape the\nclutches of the lion.  Have a care, Professor Archimedes Q. Porter!  I\nam a desperate man.  Goaded by long-suffering patience the worm will\nturn.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!\" cautioned Professor Porter; \"you\nforget yourself.\"\n\n\"I forget nothing as yet, Professor Archimedes Q. Porter; but, believe\nme, sir, I am tottering on the verge of forgetfulness as to your\nexalted position in the world of science, and your gray hairs.\"\n\nThe professor sat in silence for a few minutes, and the darkness hid\nthe grim smile that wreathed his wrinkled countenance.  Presently he\nspoke.\n\n\"Look here, Skinny Philander,\" he said, in belligerent tones, \"if you\nare lookin' for a scrap, peel off your coat and come on down on the\nground, and I'll punch your head just as I did sixty years ago in the\nalley back of Porky Evans' barn.\"\n\n\"Ark!\" gasped the astonished Mr. Philander.  \"Lordy, how good that\nsounds!  When you're human, Ark, I love you; but somehow it seems as\nthough you had forgotten how to be human for the last twenty years.\"\n\nThe professor reached out a thin, trembling old hand through the\ndarkness until it found his old friend's shoulder.\n\n\"Forgive me, Skinny,\" he said, softly.  \"It hasn't been quite twenty\nyears, and God alone knows how hard I have tried to be 'human' for\nJane's sake, and yours, too, since He took my other Jane away.\"\n\nAnother old hand stole up from Mr. Philander's side to clasp the one\nthat lay upon his shoulder, and no other message could better have\ntranslated the one heart to the other.\n\nThey did not speak for some minutes.  The lion below them paced\nnervously back and forth.  The third figure in the tree was hidden by\nthe dense shadows near the stem.  He, too, was silent--motionless as a\ngraven image.\n\n\"You certainly pulled me up into this tree just in time,\" said the\nprofessor at last.  \"I want to thank you.  You saved my life.\"\n\n\"But I didn't pull you up here, Professor,\" said Mr. Philander.  \"Bless\nme!  The excitement of the moment quite caused me to forget that I\nmyself was drawn up here by some outside agency--there must be someone\nor something in this tree with us.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" ejaculated Professor Porter.  \"Are you quite positive, Mr.\nPhilander?\"\n\n\"Most positive, Professor,\" replied Mr. Philander, \"and,\" he added, \"I\nthink we should thank the party.  He may be sitting right next to you\nnow, Professor.\"\n\n\"Eh?  What's that?  Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!\" said Professor\nPorter, edging cautiously nearer to Mr. Philander.\n\nJust then it occurred to Tarzan of the Apes that Numa had loitered\nbeneath the tree for a sufficient length of time, so he raised his\nyoung head toward the heavens, and there rang out upon the terrified\nears of the two old men the awful warning challenge of the anthropoid.\n\nThe two friends, huddled trembling in their precarious position on the\nlimb, saw the great lion halt in his restless pacing as the\nblood-curdling cry smote his ears, and then slink quickly into the\njungle, to be instantly lost to view.\n\n\"Even the lion trembles in fear,\" whispered Mr. Philander.\n\n\"Most remarkable, most remarkable,\" murmured Professor Porter,\nclutching frantically at Mr. Philander to regain the balance which the\nsudden fright had so perilously endangered.  Unfortunately for them\nboth, Mr. Philander's center of equilibrium was at that very moment\nhanging upon the ragged edge of nothing, so that it needed but the\ngentle impetus supplied by the additional weight of Professor Porter's\nbody to topple the devoted secretary from the limb.\n\nFor a moment they swayed uncertainly, and then, with mingled and most\nunscholarly shrieks, they pitched headlong from the tree, locked in\nfrenzied embrace.\n\nIt was quite some moments ere either moved, for both were positive that\nany such attempt would reveal so many breaks and fractures as to make\nfurther progress impossible.\n\nAt length Professor Porter made an attempt to move one leg.  To his\nsurprise, it responded to his will as in days gone by.  He now drew up\nits mate and stretched it forth again.\n\n\"Most remarkable, most remarkable,\" he murmured.\n\n\"Thank God, Professor,\" whispered Mr. Philander, fervently, \"you are\nnot dead, then?\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut,\" cautioned Professor Porter, \"I do\nnot know with accuracy as yet.\"\n\nWith infinite solicitude Professor Porter wiggled his right arm--joy!\nIt was intact.  Breathlessly he waved his left arm above his prostrate\nbody--it waved!\n\n\"Most remarkable, most remarkable,\" he said.\n\n\"To whom are you signaling, Professor?\" asked Mr. Philander, in an\nexcited tone.\n\nProfessor Porter deigned to make no response to this puerile inquiry.\nInstead he raised his head gently from the ground, nodding it back and\nforth a half dozen times.\n\n\"Most remarkable,\" he breathed.  \"It remains intact.\"\n\nMr. Philander had not moved from where he had fallen; he had not dared\nthe attempt.  How indeed could one move when one's arms and legs and\nback were broken?\n\nOne eye was buried in the soft loam; the other, rolling sidewise, was\nfixed in awe upon the strange gyrations of Professor Porter.\n\n\"How sad!\" exclaimed Mr. Philander, half aloud.  \"Concussion of the\nbrain, superinducing total mental aberration.  How very sad indeed! and\nfor one still so young!\"\n\nProfessor Porter rolled over upon his stomach; gingerly he bowed his\nback until he resembled a huge tom cat in proximity to a yelping dog.\nThen he sat up and felt of various portions of his anatomy.\n\n\"They are all here,\" he exclaimed.  \"Most remarkable!\"\n\nWhereupon he arose, and, bending a scathing glance upon the still\nprostrate form of Mr. Samuel T. Philander, he said:\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander; this is no time to indulge in slothful ease.\nWe must be up and doing.\"\n\nMr. Philander lifted his other eye out of the mud and gazed in\nspeechless rage at Professor Porter.  Then he attempted to rise; nor\ncould there have been any more surprised than he when his efforts were\nimmediately crowned with marked success.\n\nHe was still bursting with rage, however, at the cruel injustice of\nProfessor Porter's insinuation, and was on the point of rendering a\ntart rejoinder when his eyes fell upon a strange figure standing a few\npaces away, scrutinizing them intently.\n\nProfessor Porter had recovered his shiny silk hat, which he had brushed\ncarefully upon the sleeve of his coat and replaced upon his head.  When\nhe saw Mr. Philander pointing to something behind him he turned to\nbehold a giant, naked but for a loin cloth and a few metal ornaments,\nstanding motionless before him.\n\n\"Good evening, sir!\" said the professor, lifting his hat.\n\nFor reply the giant motioned them to follow him, and set off up the\nbeach in the direction from which they had recently come.\n\n\"I think it the better part of discretion to follow him,\" said Mr.\nPhilander.\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander,\" returned the professor.  \"A short time since\nyou were advancing a most logical argument in substantiation of your\ntheory that camp lay directly south of us.  I was skeptical, but you\nfinally convinced me; so now I am positive that toward the south we\nmust travel to reach our friends.  Therefore I shall continue south.\"\n\n\"But, Professor Porter, this man may know better than either of us.  He\nseems to be indigenous to this part of the world.  Let us at least\nfollow him for a short distance.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander,\" repeated the professor.  \"I am a difficult\nman to convince, but when once convinced my decision is unalterable.  I\nshall continue in the proper direction, if I have to circumambulate the\ncontinent of Africa to reach my destination.\"\n\nFurther argument was interrupted by Tarzan, who, seeing that these\nstrange men were not following him, had returned to their side.\n\nAgain he beckoned to them; but still they stood in argument.\n\nPresently the ape-man lost patience with their stupid ignorance.  He\ngrasped the frightened Mr. Philander by the shoulder, and before that\nworthy gentleman knew whether he was being killed or merely maimed for\nlife, Tarzan had tied one end of his rope securely about Mr.\nPhilander's neck.\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander,\" remonstrated Professor Porter; \"it is most\nunbeseeming in you to submit to such indignities.\"\n\nBut scarcely were the words out of his mouth ere he, too, had been\nseized and securely bound by the neck with the same rope.  Then Tarzan\nset off toward the north, leading the now thoroughly frightened\nprofessor and his secretary.\n\nIn deathly silence they proceeded for what seemed hours to the two\ntired and hopeless old men; but presently as they topped a little rise\nof ground they were overjoyed to see the cabin lying before them, not a\nhundred yards distant.\n\nHere Tarzan released them, and, pointing toward the little building,\nvanished into the jungle beside them.\n\n\"Most remarkable, most remarkable!\" gasped the professor.  \"But you\nsee, Mr. Philander, that I was quite right, as usual; and but for your\nstubborn willfulness we should have escaped a series of most\nhumiliating, not to say dangerous accidents.  Pray allow yourself to be\nguided by a more mature and practical mind hereafter when in need of\nwise counsel.\"\n\nMr. Samuel T. Philander was too much relieved at the happy outcome to\ntheir adventure to take umbrage at the professor's cruel fling.\nInstead he grasped his friend's arm and hastened him forward in the\ndirection of the cabin.\n\nIt was a much-relieved party of castaways that found itself once more\nunited.  Dawn discovered them still recounting their various adventures\nand speculating upon the identity of the strange guardian and protector\nthey had found on this savage shore.\n\nEsmeralda was positive that it was none other than an angel of the\nLord, sent down especially to watch over them.\n\n\"Had you seen him devour the raw meat of the lion, Esmeralda,\" laughed\nClayton, \"you would have thought him a very material angel.\"\n\n\"There was nothing heavenly about his voice,\" said Jane Porter, with a\nlittle shudder at recollection of the awful roar which had followed the\nkilling of the lioness.\n\n\"Nor did it precisely comport with my preconceived ideas of the dignity\nof divine messengers,\" remarked Professor Porter, \"when\nthe--ah--gentleman tied two highly respectable and erudite scholars\nneck to neck and dragged them through the jungle as though they had\nbeen cows.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVII\n\nBurials\n\n\nAs it was now quite light, the party, none of whom had eaten or slept\nsince the previous morning, began to bestir themselves to prepare food.\n\nThe mutineers of the Arrow had landed a small supply of dried meats,\ncanned soups and vegetables, crackers, flour, tea, and coffee for the\nfive they had marooned, and these were hurriedly drawn upon to satisfy\nthe craving of long-famished appetites.\n\nThe next task was to make the cabin habitable, and to this end it was\ndecided to at once remove the gruesome relics of the tragedy which had\ntaken place there on some bygone day.\n\nProfessor Porter and Mr. Philander were deeply interested in examining\nthe skeletons.  The two larger, they stated, had belonged to a male and\nfemale of one of the higher white races.\n\nThe smallest skeleton was given but passing attention, as its location,\nin the crib, left no doubt as to its having been the infant offspring\nof this unhappy couple.\n\nAs they were preparing the skeleton of the man for burial, Clayton\ndiscovered a massive ring which had evidently encircled the man's\nfinger at the time of his death, for one of the slender bones of the\nhand still lay within the golden bauble.\n\nPicking it up to examine it, Clayton gave a cry of astonishment, for\nthe ring bore the crest of the house of Greystoke.\n\nAt the same time, Jane discovered the books in the cupboard, and on\nopening the fly-leaf of one of them saw the name, JOHN CLAYTON, LONDON.\nIn a second book which she hurriedly examined was the single name,\nGREYSTOKE.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Clayton,\" she cried, \"what does this mean?  Here are the\nnames of some of your own people in these books.\"\n\n\"And here,\" he replied gravely, \"is the great ring of the house of\nGreystoke which has been lost since my uncle, John Clayton, the former\nLord Greystoke, disappeared, presumably lost at sea.\"\n\n\"But how do you account for these things being here, in this savage\nAfrican jungle?\" exclaimed the girl.\n\n\"There is but one way to account for it, Miss Porter,\" said Clayton.\n\"The late Lord Greystoke was not drowned.  He died here in this cabin\nand this poor thing upon the floor is all that is mortal of him.\"\n\n\"Then this must have been Lady Greystoke,\" said Jane reverently,\nindicating the poor mass of bones upon the bed.\n\n\"The beautiful Lady Alice,\" replied Clayton, \"of whose many virtues and\nremarkable personal charms I often have heard my mother and father\nspeak.  Poor woman,\" he murmured sadly.\n\nWith deep reverence and solemnity the bodies of the late Lord and Lady\nGreystoke were buried beside their little African cabin, and between\nthem was placed the tiny skeleton of the baby of Kala, the ape.\n\nAs Mr. Philander was placing the frail bones of the infant in a bit of\nsail cloth, he examined the skull minutely.  Then he called Professor\nPorter to his side, and the two argued in low tones for several minutes.\n\n\"Most remarkable, most remarkable,\" said Professor Porter.\n\n\"Bless me,\" said Mr. Philander, \"we must acquaint Mr. Clayton with our\ndiscovery at once.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!\" remonstrated Professor Archimedes\nQ. Porter.  \"'Let the dead past bury its dead.'\"\n\nAnd so the white-haired old man repeated the burial service over this\nstrange grave, while his four companions stood with bowed and uncovered\nheads about him.\n\nFrom the trees Tarzan of the Apes watched the solemn ceremony; but most\nof all he watched the sweet face and graceful figure of Jane Porter.\n\nIn his savage, untutored breast new emotions were stirring.  He could\nnot fathom them.  He wondered why he felt so great an interest in these\npeople--why he had gone to such pains to save the three men.  But he\ndid not wonder why he had torn Sabor from the tender flesh of the\nstrange girl.\n\nSurely the men were stupid and ridiculous and cowardly.  Even Manu, the\nmonkey, was more intelligent than they.  If these were creatures of his\nown kind he was doubtful if his past pride in blood was warranted.\n\nBut the girl, ah--that was a different matter.  He did not reason here.\nHe knew that she was created to be protected, and that he was created\nto protect her.\n\nHe wondered why they had dug a great hole in the ground merely to bury\ndry bones.  Surely there was no sense in that; no one wanted to steal\ndry bones.\n\nHad there been meat upon them he could have understood, for thus alone\nmight one keep his meat from Dango, the hyena, and the other robbers of\nthe jungle.\n\nWhen the grave had been filled with earth the little party turned back\ntoward the cabin, and Esmeralda, still weeping copiously for the two\nshe had never heard of before today, and who had been dead twenty\nyears, chanced to glance toward the harbor.  Instantly her tears ceased.\n\n\"Look at them low down white trash out there!\" she shrilled, pointing\ntoward the Arrow.  \"They-all's a desecrating us, right here on this\nhere perverted island.\"\n\nAnd, sure enough, the Arrow was being worked toward the open sea,\nslowly, through the harbor's entrance.\n\n\"They promised to leave us firearms and ammunition,\" said Clayton.\n\"The merciless beasts!\"\n\n\"It is the work of that fellow they call Snipes, I am sure,\" said Jane.\n\"King was a scoundrel, but he had a little sense of humanity.  If they\nhad not killed him I know that he would have seen that we were properly\nprovided for before they left us to our fate.\"\n\n\"I regret that they did not visit us before sailing,\" said Professor\nPorter.  \"I had proposed requesting them to leave the treasure with us,\nas I shall be a ruined man if that is lost.\"\n\nJane looked at her father sadly.\n\n\"Never mind, dear,\" she said.  \"It wouldn't have done any good, because\nit is solely for the treasure that they killed their officers and\nlanded us upon this awful shore.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, child, tut, tut!\" replied Professor Porter.  \"You are a good\nchild, but inexperienced in practical matters,\" and Professor Porter\nturned and walked slowly away toward the jungle, his hands clasped\nbeneath his long coat tails and his eyes bent upon the ground.\n\nHis daughter watched him with a pathetic smile upon her lips, and then\nturning to Mr. Philander, she whispered:\n\n\"Please don't let him wander off again as he did yesterday.  We depend\nupon you, you know, to keep a close watch upon him.\"\n\n\"He becomes more difficult to handle each day,\" replied Mr. Philander,\nwith a sigh and a shake of his head.  \"I presume he is now off to\nreport to the directors of the Zoo that one of their lions was at large\nlast night.  Oh, Miss Jane, you don't know what I have to contend with.\"\n\n\"Yes, I do, Mr. Philander; but while we all love him, you alone are\nbest fitted to manage him; for, regardless of what he may say to you,\nhe respects your great learning, and, therefore, has immense confidence\nin your judgment.  The poor dear cannot differentiate between erudition\nand wisdom.\"\n\nMr. Philander, with a mildly puzzled expression on his face, turned to\npursue Professor Porter, and in his mind he was revolving the question\nof whether he should feel complimented or aggrieved at Miss Porter's\nrather backhanded compliment.\n\nTarzan had seen the consternation depicted upon the faces of the little\ngroup as they witnessed the departure of the Arrow; so, as the ship was\na wonderful novelty to him in addition, he determined to hasten out to\nthe point of land at the north of the harbor's mouth and obtain a\nnearer view of the boat, as well as to learn, if possible, the\ndirection of its flight.\n\nSwinging through the trees with great speed, he reached the point only\na moment after the ship had passed out of the harbor, so that he\nobtained an excellent view of the wonders of this strange, floating\nhouse.\n\nThere were some twenty men running hither and thither about the deck,\npulling and hauling on ropes.\n\nA light land breeze was blowing, and the ship had been worked through\nthe harbor's mouth under scant sail, but now that they had cleared the\npoint every available shred of canvas was being spread that she might\nstand out to sea as handily as possible.\n\nTarzan watched the graceful movements of the ship in rapt admiration,\nand longed to be aboard her.  Presently his keen eyes caught the\nfaintest suspicion of smoke on the far northern horizon, and he\nwondered over the cause of such a thing out on the great water.\n\nAbout the same time the look-out on the Arrow must have discerned it,\nfor in a few minutes Tarzan saw the sails being shifted and shortened.\nThe ship came about, and presently he knew that she was beating back\ntoward land.\n\nA man at the bows was constantly heaving into the sea a rope to the end\nof which a small object was fastened.  Tarzan wondered what the purpose\nof this action might be.\n\nAt last the ship came up directly into the wind; the anchor was\nlowered; down came the sails.  There was great scurrying about on deck.\n\nA boat was lowered, and in it a great chest was placed.  Then a dozen\nsailors bent to the oars and pulled rapidly toward the point where\nTarzan crouched in the branches of a tree.\n\nIn the stern of the boat, as it drew nearer, Tarzan saw the rat-faced\nman.\n\nIt was but a few minutes later that the boat touched the beach.  The\nmen jumped out and lifted the great chest to the sand.  They were on\nthe north side of the point so that their presence was concealed from\nthose at the cabin.\n\nThe men argued angrily for a moment.  Then the rat-faced one, with\nseveral companions, ascended the low bluff on which stood the tree that\nconcealed Tarzan.  They looked about for several minutes.\n\n\"Here is a good place,\" said the rat-faced sailor, indicating a spot\nbeneath Tarzan's tree.\n\n\"It is as good as any,\" replied one of his companions.  \"If they catch\nus with the treasure aboard it will all be confiscated anyway.  We\nmight as well bury it here on the chance that some of us will escape\nthe gallows to come back and enjoy it later.\"\n\nThe rat-faced one now called to the men who had remained at the boat,\nand they came slowly up the bank carrying picks and shovels.\n\n\"Hurry, you!\" cried Snipes.\n\n\"Stow it!\" retorted one of the men, in a surly tone.  \"You're no\nadmiral, you damned shrimp.\"\n\n\"I'm Cap'n here, though, I'll have you to understand, you swab,\"\nshrieked Snipes, with a volley of frightful oaths.\n\n\"Steady, boys,\" cautioned one of the men who had not spoken before.\n\"It ain't goin' to get us nothing by fightin' amongst ourselves.\"\n\n\"Right enough,\" replied the sailor who had resented Snipes' autocratic\ntones; \"but it ain't a-goin' to get nobody nothin' to put on airs in\nthis bloomin' company neither.\"\n\n\"You fellows dig here,\" said Snipes, indicating a spot beneath the\ntree.  \"And while you're diggin', Peter kin be a-makin' of a map of the\nlocation so's we kin find it again.  You, Tom, and Bill, take a couple\nmore down and fetch up the chest.\"\n\n\"Wot are you a-goin' to do?\" asked he of the previous altercation.\n\"Just boss?\"\n\n\"Git busy there,\" growled Snipes.  \"You didn't think your Cap'n was\na-goin' to dig with a shovel, did you?\"\n\nThe men all looked up angrily.  None of them liked Snipes, and this\ndisagreeable show of authority since he had murdered King, the real\nhead and ringleader of the mutineers, had only added fuel to the flames\nof their hatred.\n\n\"Do you mean to say that you don't intend to take a shovel, and lend a\nhand with this work?  Your shoulder's not hurt so all-fired bad as\nthat,\" said Tarrant, the sailor who had before spoken.\n\n\"Not by a damned sight,\" replied Snipes, fingering the butt of his\nrevolver nervously.\n\n\"Then, by God,\" replied Tarrant, \"if you won't take a shovel you'll\ntake a pickax.\"\n\nWith the words he raised his pick above his head, and, with a mighty\nblow, he buried the point in Snipes' brain.\n\nFor a moment the men stood silently looking at the result of their\nfellow's grim humor.  Then one of them spoke.\n\n\"Served the skunk jolly well right,\" he said.\n\nOne of the others commenced to ply his pick to the ground.  The soil\nwas soft and he threw aside the pick and grasped a shovel; then the\nothers joined him.  There was no further comment on the killing, but\nthe men worked in a better frame of mind than they had since Snipes had\nassumed command.\n\nWhen they had a trench of ample size to bury the chest, Tarrant\nsuggested that they enlarge it and inter Snipes' body on top of the\nchest.\n\n\"It might 'elp fool any as 'appened to be diggin' 'ereabouts,\" he\nexplained.\n\nThe others saw the cunning of the suggestion, and so the trench was\nlengthened to accommodate the corpse, and in the center a deeper hole\nwas excavated for the box, which was first wrapped in sailcloth and\nthen lowered to its place, which brought its top about a foot below the\nbottom of the grave.  Earth was shovelled in and tramped down about the\nchest until the bottom of the grave showed level and uniform.\n\nTwo of the men rolled the rat-faced corpse unceremoniously into the\ngrave, after first stripping it of its weapons and various other\narticles which the several members of the party coveted for their own.\n\nThey then filled the grave with earth and tramped upon it until it\nwould hold no more.\n\nThe balance of the loose earth was thrown far and wide, and a mass of\ndead undergrowth spread in as natural a manner as possible over the\nnew-made grave to obliterate all signs of the ground having been\ndisturbed.\n\nTheir work done the sailors returned to the small boat, and pulled off\nrapidly toward the Arrow.\n\nThe breeze had increased considerably, and as the smoke upon the\nhorizon was now plainly discernible in considerable volume, the\nmutineers lost no time in getting under full sail and bearing away\ntoward the southwest.\n\nTarzan, an interested spectator of all that had taken place, sat\nspeculating on the strange actions of these peculiar creatures.\n\nMen were indeed more foolish and more cruel than the beasts of the\njungle!  How fortunate was he who lived in the peace and security of\nthe great forest!\n\nTarzan wondered what the chest they had buried contained.  If they did\nnot want it why did they not merely throw it into the water?  That\nwould have been much easier.\n\nAh, he thought, but they do want it.  They have hidden it here because\nthey intend returning for it later.\n\nTarzan dropped to the ground and commenced to examine the earth about\nthe excavation.  He was looking to see if these creatures had dropped\nanything which he might like to own.  Soon he discovered a spade hidden\nby the underbrush which they had laid upon the grave.\n\nHe seized it and attempted to use it as he had seen the sailors do.  It\nwas awkward work and hurt his bare feet, but he persevered until he had\npartially uncovered the body.  This he dragged from the grave and laid\nto one side.\n\nThen he continued digging until he had unearthed the chest.  This also\nhe dragged to the side of the corpse.  Then he filled in the smaller\nhole below the grave, replaced the body and the earth around and above\nit, covered it over with underbrush, and returned to the chest.\n\nFour sailors had sweated beneath the burden of its weight--Tarzan of\nthe Apes picked it up as though it had been an empty packing case, and\nwith the spade slung to his back by a piece of rope, carried it off\ninto the densest part of the jungle.\n\nHe could not well negotiate the trees with his awkward burden, but he\nkept to the trails, and so made fairly good time.\n\nFor several hours he traveled a little north of east until he came to\nan impenetrable wall of matted and tangled vegetation.  Then he took to\nthe lower branches, and in another fifteen minutes he emerged into the\namphitheater of the apes, where they met in council, or to celebrate\nthe rites of the Dum-Dum.\n\nNear the center of the clearing, and not far from the drum, or altar,\nhe commenced to dig.  This was harder work than turning up the freshly\nexcavated earth at the grave, but Tarzan of the Apes was persevering\nand so he kept at his labor until he was rewarded by seeing a hole\nsufficiently deep to receive the chest and effectually hide it from\nview.\n\nWhy had he gone to all this labor without knowing the value of the\ncontents of the chest?\n\nTarzan of the Apes had a man's figure and a man's brain, but he was an\nape by training and environment.  His brain told him that the chest\ncontained something valuable, or the men would not have hidden it.  His\ntraining had taught him to imitate whatever was new and unusual, and\nnow the natural curiosity, which is as common to men as to apes,\nprompted him to open the chest and examine its contents.\n\nBut the heavy lock and massive iron bands baffled both his cunning and\nhis immense strength, so that he was compelled to bury the chest\nwithout having his curiosity satisfied.\n\nBy the time Tarzan had hunted his way back to the vicinity of the\ncabin, feeding as he went, it was quite dark.\n\nWithin the little building a light was burning, for Clayton had found\nan unopened tin of oil which had stood intact for twenty years, a part\nof the supplies left with the Claytons by Black Michael.  The lamps\nalso were still useable, and thus the interior of the cabin appeared as\nbright as day to the astonished Tarzan.\n\nHe had often wondered at the exact purpose of the lamps.  His reading\nand the pictures had told him what they were, but he had no idea of how\nthey could be made to produce the wondrous sunlight that some of his\npictures had portrayed them as diffusing upon all surrounding objects.\n\nAs he approached the window nearest the door he saw that the cabin had\nbeen divided into two rooms by a rough partition of boughs and\nsailcloth.\n\nIn the front room were the three men; the two older deep in argument,\nwhile the younger, tilted back against the wall on an improvised stool,\nwas deeply engrossed in reading one of Tarzan's books.\n\nTarzan was not particularly interested in the men, however, so he\nsought the other window.  There was the girl.  How beautiful her\nfeatures!  How delicate her snowy skin!\n\nShe was writing at Tarzan's own table beneath the window.  Upon a pile\nof grasses at the far side of the room lay the Negress asleep.\n\nFor an hour Tarzan feasted his eyes upon her while she wrote.  How he\nlonged to speak to her, but he dared not attempt it, for he was\nconvinced that, like the young man, she would not understand him, and\nhe feared, too, that he might frighten her away.\n\nAt length she arose, leaving her manuscript upon the table.  She went\nto the bed upon which had been spread several layers of soft grasses.\nThese she rearranged.\n\nThen she loosened the soft mass of golden hair which crowned her head.\nLike a shimmering waterfall turned to burnished metal by a dying sun it\nfell about her oval face; in waving lines, below her waist it tumbled.\n\nTarzan was spellbound.  Then she extinguished the lamp and all within\nthe cabin was wrapped in Cimmerian darkness.\n\nStill Tarzan watched.  Creeping close beneath the window he waited,\nlistening, for half an hour.  At last he was rewarded by the sounds of\nthe regular breathing within which denotes sleep.\n\nCautiously he intruded his hand between the meshes of the lattice until\nhis whole arm was within the cabin.  Carefully he felt upon the desk.\nAt last he grasped the manuscript upon which Jane Porter had been\nwriting, and as cautiously withdrew his arm and hand, holding the\nprecious treasure.\n\nTarzan folded the sheets into a small parcel which he tucked into the\nquiver with his arrows.  Then he melted away into the jungle as softly\nand as noiselessly as a shadow.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVIII\n\nThe Jungle Toll\n\n\nEarly the following morning Tarzan awoke, and his first thought of the\nnew day, as the last of yesterday, was of the wonderful writing which\nlay hidden in his quiver.\n\nHurriedly he brought it forth, hoping against hope that he could read\nwhat the beautiful white girl had written there the preceding evening.\n\nAt the first glance he suffered a bitter disappointment; never before\nhad he so yearned for anything as now he did for the ability to\ninterpret a message from that golden-haired divinity who had come so\nsuddenly and so unexpectedly into his life.\n\nWhat did it matter if the message were not intended for him?  It was an\nexpression of her thoughts, and that was sufficient for Tarzan of the\nApes.\n\nAnd now to be baffled by strange, uncouth characters the like of which\nhe had never seen before!  Why, they even tipped in the opposite\ndirection from all that he had ever examined either in printed books or\nthe difficult script of the few letters he had found.\n\nEven the little bugs of the black book were familiar friends, though\ntheir arrangement meant nothing to him; but these bugs were new and\nunheard of.\n\nFor twenty minutes he pored over them, when suddenly they commenced to\ntake familiar though distorted shapes.  Ah, they were his old friends,\nbut badly crippled.\n\nThen he began to make out a word here and a word there.  His heart\nleaped for joy.  He could read it, and he would.\n\nIn another half hour he was progressing rapidly, and, but for an\nexceptional word now and again, he found it very plain sailing.\n\nHere is what he read:\n\nWEST COAST OF AFRICA, ABOUT 10 DEGREES SOUTH\n      LATITUDE.  (So Mr. Clayton says.)\n                  February 3 (?), 1909.\n\nDEAREST HAZEL:\n\nIt seems foolish to write you a letter that you may never see, but I\nsimply must tell somebody of our awful experiences since we sailed from\nEurope on the ill-fated Arrow.\n\nIf we never return to civilization, as now seems only too likely, this\nwill at least prove a brief record of the events which led up to our\nfinal fate, whatever it may be.\n\nAs you know, we were supposed to have set out upon a scientific\nexpedition to the Congo.  Papa was presumed to entertain some wondrous\ntheory of an unthinkably ancient civilization, the remains of which lay\nburied somewhere in the Congo valley.  But after we were well under\nsail the truth came out.\n\nIt seems that an old bookworm who has a book and curio shop in\nBaltimore discovered between the leaves of a very old Spanish\nmanuscript a letter written in 1550 detailing the adventures of a crew\nof mutineers of a Spanish galleon bound from Spain to South America\nwith a vast treasure of \"doubloons\" and \"pieces of eight,\" I suppose,\nfor they certainly sound weird and piraty.\n\nThe writer had been one of the crew, and the letter was to his son, who\nwas, at the very time the letter was written, master of a Spanish\nmerchantman.\n\nMany years had elapsed since the events the letter narrated had\ntranspired, and the old man had become a respected citizen of an\nobscure Spanish town, but the love of gold was still so strong upon him\nthat he risked all to acquaint his son with the means of attaining\nfabulous wealth for them both.\n\nThe writer told how when but a week out from Spain the crew had\nmutinied and murdered every officer and man who opposed them; but they\ndefeated their own ends by this very act, for there was none left\ncompetent to navigate a ship at sea.\n\nThey were blown hither and thither for two months, until sick and dying\nof scurvy, starvation, and thirst, they had been wrecked on a small\nislet.\n\nThe galleon was washed high upon the beach where she went to pieces;\nbut not before the survivors, who numbered but ten souls, had rescued\none of the great chests of treasure.\n\nThis they buried well up on the island, and for three years they lived\nthere in constant hope of being rescued.\n\nOne by one they sickened and died, until only one man was left, the\nwriter of the letter.\n\nThe men had built a boat from the wreckage of the galleon, but having\nno idea where the island was located they had not dared to put to sea.\n\nWhen all were dead except himself, however, the awful loneliness so\nweighed upon the mind of the sole survivor that he could endure it no\nlonger, and choosing to risk death upon the open sea rather than\nmadness on the lonely isle, he set sail in his little boat after nearly\na year of solitude.\n\nFortunately he sailed due north, and within a week was in the track of\nthe Spanish merchantmen plying between the West Indies and Spain, and\nwas picked up by one of these vessels homeward bound.\n\nThe story he told was merely one of shipwreck in which all but a few\nhad perished, the balance, except himself, dying after they reached the\nisland.  He did not mention the mutiny or the chest of buried treasure.\n\nThe master of the merchantman assured him that from the position at\nwhich they had picked him up, and the prevailing winds for the past\nweek he could have been on no other island than one of the Cape Verde\ngroup, which lie off the West Coast of Africa in about 16 degrees or 17\ndegrees north latitude.\n\nHis letter described the island minutely, as well as the location of\nthe treasure, and was accompanied by the crudest, funniest little old\nmap you ever saw; with trees and rocks all marked by scrawly X's to\nshow the exact spot where the treasure had been buried.\n\nWhen papa explained the real nature of the expedition, my heart sank,\nfor I know so well how visionary and impractical the poor dear has\nalways been that I feared that he had again been duped; especially when\nhe told me he had paid a thousand dollars for the letter and map.\n\nTo add to my distress, I learned that he had borrowed ten thousand\ndollars more from Robert Canler, and had given his notes for the amount.\n\nMr. Canler had asked for no security, and you know, dearie, what that\nwill mean for me if papa cannot meet them.  Oh, how I detest that man!\n\nWe all tried to look on the bright side of things, but Mr. Philander,\nand Mr. Clayton--he joined us in London just for the adventure--both\nfelt as skeptical as I.\n\nWell, to make a long story short, we found the island and the\ntreasure--a great iron-bound oak chest, wrapped in many layers of oiled\nsailcloth, and as strong and firm as when it had been buried nearly two\nhundred years ago.\n\nIt was SIMPLY FILLED with gold coin, and was so heavy that four men\nbent underneath its weight.\n\nThe horrid thing seems to bring nothing but murder and misfortune to\nthose who have anything to do with it, for three days after we sailed\nfrom the Cape Verde Islands our own crew mutinied and killed every one\nof their officers.\n\nOh, it was the most terrifying experience one could imagine--I cannot\neven write of it.\n\nThey were going to kill us too, but one of them, the leader, named\nKing, would not let them, and so they sailed south along the coast to a\nlonely spot where they found a good harbor, and here they landed and\nhave left us.\n\nThey sailed away with the treasure to-day, but Mr. Clayton says they\nwill meet with a fate similar to the mutineers of the ancient galleon,\nbecause King, the only man aboard who knew aught of navigation, was\nmurdered on the beach by one of the men the day we landed.\n\nI wish you could know Mr. Clayton; he is the dearest fellow imaginable,\nand unless I am mistaken he has fallen very much in love with me.\n\nHe is the only son of Lord Greystoke, and some day will inherit the\ntitle and estates.  In addition, he is wealthy in his own right, but\nthe fact that he is going to be an English Lord makes me very sad--you\nknow what my sentiments have always been relative to American girls who\nmarried titled foreigners.  Oh, if he were only a plain American\ngentleman!\n\nBut it isn't his fault, poor fellow, and in everything except birth he\nwould do credit to my country, and that is the greatest compliment I\nknow how to pay any man.\n\nWe have had the most weird experiences since we were landed here.  Papa\nand Mr. Philander lost in the jungle, and chased by a real lion.\n\nMr. Clayton lost, and attacked twice by wild beasts.  Esmeralda and I\ncornered in an old cabin by a perfectly awful man-eating lioness.  Oh,\nit was simply \"terrifical,\" as Esmeralda would say.\n\nBut the strangest part of it all is the wonderful creature who rescued\nus.  I have not seen him, but Mr. Clayton and papa and Mr. Philander\nhave, and they say that he is a perfectly god-like white man tanned to\na dusky brown, with the strength of a wild elephant, the agility of a\nmonkey, and the bravery of a lion.\n\nHe speaks no English and vanishes as quickly and as mysteriously after\nhe has performed some valorous deed, as though he were a disembodied\nspirit.\n\nThen we have another weird neighbor, who printed a beautiful sign in\nEnglish and tacked it on the door of his cabin, which we have\npreempted, warning us to destroy none of his belongings, and signing\nhimself \"Tarzan of the Apes.\"\n\nWe have never seen him, though we think he is about, for one of the\nsailors, who was going to shoot Mr. Clayton in the back, received a\nspear in his shoulder from some unseen hand in the jungle.\n\nThe sailors left us but a meager supply of food, so, as we have only a\nsingle revolver with but three cartridges left in it, we do not know\nhow we can procure meat, though Mr. Philander says that we can exist\nindefinitely on the wild fruit and nuts which abound in the jungle.\n\nI am very tired now, so I shall go to my funny bed of grasses which Mr.\nClayton gathered for me, but will add to this from day to day as things\nhappen.\n                              Lovingly,\n                                  JANE PORTER.\n\nTO HAZEL STRONG, BALTIMORE, MD.\n\n\nTarzan sat in a brown study for a long time after he finished reading\nthe letter.  It was filled with so many new and wonderful things that\nhis brain was in a whirl as he attempted to digest them all.\n\nSo they did not know that he was Tarzan of the Apes.  He would tell\nthem.\n\nIn his tree he had constructed a rude shelter of leaves and boughs,\nbeneath which, protected from the rain, he had placed the few treasures\nbrought from the cabin.  Among these were some pencils.\n\nHe took one, and beneath Jane Porter's signature he wrote:\n\n      I am Tarzan of the Apes\n\n\nHe thought that would be sufficient.  Later he would return the letter\nto the cabin.\n\nIn the matter of food, thought Tarzan, they had no need to worry--he\nwould provide, and he did.\n\nThe next morning Jane found her missing letter in the exact spot from\nwhich it had disappeared two nights before.  She was mystified; but\nwhen she saw the printed words beneath her signature, she felt a cold,\nclammy chill run up her spine.  She showed the letter, or rather the\nlast sheet with the signature, to Clayton.\n\n\"And to think,\" she said, \"that uncanny thing was probably watching me\nall the time that I was writing--oo!  It makes me shudder just to think\nof it.\"\n\n\"But he must be friendly,\" reassured Clayton, \"for he has returned your\nletter, nor did he offer to harm you, and unless I am mistaken he left\na very substantial memento of his friendship outside the cabin door\nlast night, for I just found the carcass of a wild boar there as I came\nout.\"\n\nFrom then on scarcely a day passed that did not bring its offering of\ngame or other food.  Sometimes it was a young deer, again a quantity of\nstrange, cooked food--cassava cakes pilfered from the village of\nMbonga--or a boar, or leopard, and once a lion.\n\nTarzan derived the greatest pleasure of his life in hunting meat for\nthese strangers.  It seemed to him that no pleasure on earth could\ncompare with laboring for the welfare and protection of the beautiful\nwhite girl.\n\nSome day he would venture into the camp in daylight and talk with these\npeople through the medium of the little bugs which were familiar to\nthem and to Tarzan.\n\nBut he found it difficult to overcome the timidity of the wild thing of\nthe forest, and so day followed day without seeing a fulfillment of his\ngood intentions.\n\nThe party in the camp, emboldened by familiarity, wandered farther and\nyet farther into the jungle in search of nuts and fruit.\n\nScarcely a day passed that did not find Professor Porter straying in\nhis preoccupied indifference toward the jaws of death.  Mr. Samuel T.\nPhilander, never what one might call robust, was worn to the shadow of\na shadow through the ceaseless worry and mental distraction resultant\nfrom his Herculean efforts to safeguard the professor.\n\nA month passed.  Tarzan had finally determined to visit the camp by\ndaylight.\n\nIt was early afternoon.  Clayton had wandered to the point at the\nharbor's mouth to look for passing vessels.  Here he kept a great mass\nof wood, high piled, ready to be ignited as a signal should a steamer\nor a sail top the far horizon.\n\nProfessor Porter was wandering along the beach south of the camp with\nMr. Philander at his elbow, urging him to turn his steps back before\nthe two became again the sport of some savage beast.\n\nThe others gone, Jane and Esmeralda had wandered into the jungle to\ngather fruit, and in their search were led farther and farther from the\ncabin.\n\nTarzan waited in silence before the door of the little house until they\nshould return.  His thoughts were of the beautiful white girl.  They\nwere always of her now.  He wondered if she would fear him, and the\nthought all but caused him to relinquish his plan.\n\nHe was rapidly becoming impatient for her return, that he might feast\nhis eyes upon her and be near her, perhaps touch her.  The ape-man knew\nno god, but he was as near to worshipping his divinity as mortal man\never comes to worship.  While he waited he passed the time printing a\nmessage to her; whether he intended giving it to her he himself could\nnot have told, but he took infinite pleasure in seeing his thoughts\nexpressed in print--in which he was not so uncivilized after all.  He\nwrote:\n\n\nI am Tarzan of the Apes.  I want you.  I am yours.  You are mine.  We\nlive here together always in my house.  I will bring you the best of\nfruits, the tenderest deer, the finest meats that roam the jungle.  I\nwill hunt for you.  I am the greatest of the jungle fighters.  I will\nfight for you.  I am the mightiest of the jungle fighters.  You are\nJane Porter, I saw it in your letter.  When you see this you will know\nthat it is for you and that Tarzan of the Apes loves you.\n\n\nAs he stood, straight as a young Indian, by the door, waiting after he\nhad finished the message, there came to his keen ears a familiar sound.\nIt was the passing of a great ape through the lower branches of the\nforest.\n\nFor an instant he listened intently, and then from the jungle came the\nagonized scream of a woman, and Tarzan of the Apes, dropping his first\nlove letter upon the ground, shot like a panther into the forest.\n\nClayton, also, heard the scream, and Professor Porter and Mr.\nPhilander, and in a few minutes they came panting to the cabin, calling\nout to each other a volley of excited questions as they approached.  A\nglance within confirmed their worst fears.\n\nJane and Esmeralda were not there.\n\nInstantly, Clayton, followed by the two old men, plunged into the\njungle, calling the girl's name aloud.  For half an hour they stumbled\non, until Clayton, by merest chance, came upon the prostrate form of\nEsmeralda.\n\nHe stopped beside her, feeling for her pulse and then listening for her\nheartbeats.  She lived.  He shook her.\n\n\"Esmeralda!\" he shrieked in her ear.  \"Esmeralda!  For God's sake,\nwhere is Miss Porter?  What has happened?  Esmeralda!\"\n\nSlowly Esmeralda opened her eyes.  She saw Clayton.  She saw the jungle\nabout her.\n\n\"Oh, Gaberelle!\" she screamed, and fainted again.\n\nBy this time Professor Porter and Mr. Philander had come up.\n\n\"What shall we do, Mr. Clayton?\" asked the old professor.  \"Where shall\nwe look?  God could not have been so cruel as to take my little girl\naway from me now.\"\n\n\"We must arouse Esmeralda first,\" replied Clayton.  \"She can tell us\nwhat has happened.  Esmeralda!\" he cried again, shaking the black woman\nroughly by the shoulder.\n\n\"O Gaberelle, I want to die!\" cried the poor woman, but with eyes fast\nclosed.  \"Let me die, dear Lord, don't let me see that awful face\nagain.\"\n\n\"Come, come, Esmeralda,\" cried Clayton.\n\n\"The Lord isn't here; it's Mr. Clayton.  Open your eyes.\"\n\nEsmeralda did as she was bade.\n\n\"O Gaberelle!  Thank the Lord,\" she said.\n\n\"Where's Miss Porter?  What happened?\" questioned Clayton.\n\n\"Ain't Miss Jane here?\" cried Esmeralda, sitting up with wonderful\ncelerity for one of her bulk.  \"Oh, Lord, now I remember!  It must have\ntook her away,\" and the Negress commenced to sob, and wail her\nlamentations.\n\n\"What took her away?\" cried Professor Porter.\n\n\"A great big giant all covered with hair.\"\n\n\"A gorilla, Esmeralda?\" questioned Mr. Philander, and the three men\nscarcely breathed as he voiced the horrible thought.\n\n\"I thought it was the devil; but I guess it must have been one of them\ngorilephants.  Oh, my poor baby, my poor little honey,\" and again\nEsmeralda broke into uncontrollable sobbing.\n\nClayton immediately began to look about for tracks, but he could find\nnothing save a confusion of trampled grasses in the close vicinity, and\nhis woodcraft was too meager for the translation of what he did see.\n\nAll the balance of the day they sought through the jungle; but as night\ndrew on they were forced to give up in despair and hopelessness, for\nthey did not even know in what direction the thing had borne Jane.\n\nIt was long after dark ere they reached the cabin, and a sad and\ngrief-stricken party it was that sat silently within the little\nstructure.\n\nProfessor Porter finally broke the silence.  His tones were no longer\nthose of the erudite pedant theorizing upon the abstract and the\nunknowable; but those of the man of action--determined, but tinged also\nby a note of indescribable hopelessness and grief which wrung an\nanswering pang from Clayton's heart.\n\n\"I shall lie down now,\" said the old man, \"and try to sleep.  Early\nto-morrow, as soon as it is light, I shall take what food I can carry\nand continue the search until I have found Jane.  I will not return\nwithout her.\"\n\nHis companions did not reply at once.  Each was immersed in his own\nsorrowful thoughts, and each knew, as did the old professor, what the\nlast words meant--Professor Porter would never return from the jungle.\n\nAt length Clayton arose and laid his hand gently upon Professor\nPorter's bent old shoulder.\n\n\"I shall go with you, of course,\" he said.\n\n\"I knew that you would offer--that you would wish to go, Mr. Clayton;\nbut you must not.  Jane is beyond human assistance now.  What was once\nmy dear little girl shall not lie alone and friendless in the awful\njungle.\n\n\"The same vines and leaves will cover us, the same rains beat upon us;\nand when the spirit of her mother is abroad, it will find us together\nin death, as it has always found us in life.\n\n\"No; it is I alone who may go, for she was my daughter--all that was\nleft on earth for me to love.\"\n\n\"I shall go with you,\" said Clayton simply.\n\nThe old man looked up, regarding the strong, handsome face of William\nCecil Clayton intently.  Perhaps he read there the love that lay in the\nheart beneath--the love for his daughter.\n\nHe had been too preoccupied with his own scholarly thoughts in the past\nto consider the little occurrences, the chance words, which would have\nindicated to a more practical man that these young people were being\ndrawn more and more closely to one another.  Now they came back to him,\none by one.\n\n\"As you wish,\" he said.\n\n\"You may count on me, also,\" said Mr. Philander.\n\n\"No, my dear old friend,\" said Professor Porter.  \"We may not all go.\nIt would be cruelly wicked to leave poor Esmeralda here alone, and\nthree of us would be no more successful than one.\n\n\"There be enough dead things in the cruel forest as it is.  Come--let\nus try to sleep a little.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIX\n\nThe Call of the Primitive\n\n\nFrom the time Tarzan left the tribe of great anthropoids in which he\nhad been raised, it was torn by continual strife and discord.  Terkoz\nproved a cruel and capricious king, so that, one by one, many of the\nolder and weaker apes, upon whom he was particularly prone to vent his\nbrutish nature, took their families and sought the quiet and safety of\nthe far interior.\n\nBut at last those who remained were driven to desperation by the\ncontinued truculence of Terkoz, and it so happened that one of them\nrecalled the parting admonition of Tarzan:\n\n\"If you have a chief who is cruel, do not do as the other apes do, and\nattempt, any one of you, to pit yourself against him alone.  But,\ninstead, let two or three or four of you attack him together.  Then, if\nyou will do this, no chief will dare to be other than he should be, for\nfour of you can kill any chief who may ever be over you.\"\n\nAnd the ape who recalled this wise counsel repeated it to several of\nhis fellows, so that when Terkoz returned to the tribe that day he\nfound a warm reception awaiting him.\n\nThere were no formalities.  As Terkoz reached the group, five huge,\nhairy beasts sprang upon him.\n\nAt heart he was an arrant coward, which is the way with bullies among\napes as well as among men; so he did not remain to fight and die, but\ntore himself away from them as quickly as he could and fled into the\nsheltering boughs of the forest.\n\nTwo more attempts he made to rejoin the tribe, but on each occasion he\nwas set upon and driven away.  At last he gave it up, and turned,\nfoaming with rage and hatred, into the jungle.\n\nFor several days he wandered aimlessly, nursing his spite and looking\nfor some weak thing on which to vent his pent anger.\n\nIt was in this state of mind that the horrible, man-like beast,\nswinging from tree to tree, came suddenly upon two women in the jungle.\n\nHe was right above them when he discovered them.  The first intimation\nJane Porter had of his presence was when the great hairy body dropped\nto the earth beside her, and she saw the awful face and the snarling,\nhideous mouth thrust within a foot of her.\n\nOne piercing scream escaped her lips as the brute hand clutched her\narm.  Then she was dragged toward those awful fangs which yawned at her\nthroat.  But ere they touched that fair skin another mood claimed the\nanthropoid.\n\nThe tribe had kept his women.  He must find others to replace them.\nThis hairless white ape would be the first of his new household, and so\nhe threw her roughly across his broad, hairy shoulders and leaped back\ninto the trees, bearing Jane away.\n\nEsmeralda's scream of terror had mingled once with that of Jane, and\nthen, as was Esmeralda's manner under stress of emergency which\nrequired presence of mind, she swooned.\n\nBut Jane did not once lose consciousness.  It is true that that awful\nface, pressing close to hers, and the stench of the foul breath beating\nupon her nostrils, paralyzed her with terror; but her brain was clear,\nand she comprehended all that transpired.\n\nWith what seemed to her marvelous rapidity the brute bore her through\nthe forest, but still she did not cry out or struggle.  The sudden\nadvent of the ape had confused her to such an extent that she thought\nnow that he was bearing her toward the beach.\n\nFor this reason she conserved her energies and her voice until she\ncould see that they had approached near enough to the camp to attract\nthe succor she craved.\n\nShe could not have known it, but she was being borne farther and\nfarther into the impenetrable jungle.\n\nThe scream that had brought Clayton and the two older men stumbling\nthrough the undergrowth had led Tarzan of the Apes straight to where\nEsmeralda lay, but it was not Esmeralda in whom his interest centered,\nthough pausing over her he saw that she was unhurt.\n\nFor a moment he scrutinized the ground below and the trees above, until\nthe ape that was in him by virtue of training and environment, combined\nwith the intelligence that was his by right of birth, told his wondrous\nwoodcraft the whole story as plainly as though he had seen the thing\nhappen with his own eyes.\n\nAnd then he was gone again into the swaying trees, following the\nhigh-flung spoor which no other human eye could have detected, much\nless translated.\n\nAt boughs' ends, where the anthropoid swings from one tree to another,\nthere is most to mark the trail, but least to point the direction of\nthe quarry; for there the pressure is downward always, toward the small\nend of the branch, whether the ape be leaving or entering a tree.\nNearer the center of the tree, where the signs of passage are fainter,\nthe direction is plainly marked.\n\nHere, on this branch, a caterpillar has been crushed by the fugitive's\ngreat foot, and Tarzan knows instinctively where that same foot would\ntouch in the next stride.  Here he looks to find a tiny particle of the\ndemolished larva, ofttimes not more than a speck of moisture.\n\nAgain, a minute bit of bark has been upturned by the scraping hand, and\nthe direction of the break indicates the direction of the passage.  Or\nsome great limb, or the stem of the tree itself has been brushed by the\nhairy body, and a tiny shred of hair tells him by the direction from\nwhich it is wedged beneath the bark that he is on the right trail.\n\nNor does he need to check his speed to catch these seemingly faint\nrecords of the fleeing beast.\n\nTo Tarzan they stand out boldly against all the myriad other scars and\nbruises and signs upon the leafy way.  But strongest of all is the\nscent, for Tarzan is pursuing up the wind, and his trained nostrils are\nas sensitive as a hound's.\n\nThere are those who believe that the lower orders are specially endowed\nby nature with better olfactory nerves than man, but it is merely a\nmatter of development.\n\nMan's survival does not hinge so greatly upon the perfection of his\nsenses.  His power to reason has relieved them of many of their duties,\nand so they have, to some extent, atrophied, as have the muscles which\nmove the ears and scalp, merely from disuse.\n\nThe muscles are there, about the ears and beneath the scalp, and so are\nthe nerves which transmit sensations to the brain, but they are\nunder-developed because they are not needed.\n\nNot so with Tarzan of the Apes.  From early infancy his survival had\ndepended upon acuteness of eyesight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste\nfar more than upon the more slowly developed organ of reason.\n\nThe least developed of all in Tarzan was the sense of taste, for he\ncould eat luscious fruits, or raw flesh, long buried with almost equal\nappreciation; but in that he differed but slightly from more civilized\nepicures.\n\nAlmost silently the ape-man sped on in the track of Terkoz and his\nprey, but the sound of his approach reached the ears of the fleeing\nbeast and spurred it on to greater speed.\n\nThree miles were covered before Tarzan overtook them, and then Terkoz,\nseeing that further flight was futile, dropped to the ground in a small\nopen glade, that he might turn and fight for his prize or be free to\nescape unhampered if he saw that the pursuer was more than a match for\nhim.\n\nHe still grasped Jane in one great arm as Tarzan bounded like a leopard\ninto the arena which nature had provided for this primeval-like battle.\n\nWhen Terkoz saw that it was Tarzan who pursued him, he jumped to the\nconclusion that this was Tarzan's woman, since they were of the same\nkind--white and hairless--and so he rejoiced at this opportunity for\ndouble revenge upon his hated enemy.\n\nTo Jane the strange apparition of this god-like man was as wine to sick\nnerves.\n\nFrom the description which Clayton and her father and Mr. Philander had\ngiven her, she knew that it must be the same wonderful creature who had\nsaved them, and she saw in him only a protector and a friend.\n\nBut as Terkoz pushed her roughly aside to meet Tarzan's charge, and she\nsaw the great proportions of the ape and the mighty muscles and the\nfierce fangs, her heart quailed.  How could any vanquish such a mighty\nantagonist?\n\nLike two charging bulls they came together, and like two wolves sought\neach other's throat.  Against the long canines of the ape was pitted\nthe thin blade of the man's knife.\n\nJane--her lithe, young form flattened against the trunk of a great\ntree, her hands tight pressed against her rising and falling bosom, and\nher eyes wide with mingled horror, fascination, fear, and\nadmiration--watched the primordial ape battle with the primeval man for\npossession of a woman--for her.\n\nAs the great muscles of the man's back and shoulders knotted beneath\nthe tension of his efforts, and the huge biceps and forearm held at bay\nthose mighty tusks, the veil of centuries of civilization and culture\nwas swept from the blurred vision of the Baltimore girl.\n\nWhen the long knife drank deep a dozen times of Terkoz' heart's blood,\nand the great carcass rolled lifeless upon the ground, it was a\nprimeval woman who sprang forward with outstretched arms toward the\nprimeval man who had fought for her and won her.\n\nAnd Tarzan?\n\nHe did what no red-blooded man needs lessons in doing.  He took his\nwoman in his arms and smothered her upturned, panting lips with kisses.\n\nFor a moment Jane lay there with half-closed eyes.  For a moment--the\nfirst in her young life--she knew the meaning of love.\n\nBut as suddenly as the veil had been withdrawn it dropped again, and an\noutraged conscience suffused her face with its scarlet mantle, and a\nmortified woman thrust Tarzan of the Apes from her and buried her face\nin her hands.\n\nTarzan had been surprised when he had found the girl he had learned to\nlove after a vague and abstract manner a willing prisoner in his arms.\nNow he was surprised that she repulsed him.\n\nHe came close to her once more and took hold of her arm.  She turned\nupon him like a tigress, striking his great breast with her tiny hands.\n\nTarzan could not understand it.\n\nA moment ago and it had been his intention to hasten Jane back to her\npeople, but that little moment was lost now in the dim and distant past\nof things which were but can never be again, and with it the good\nintentions had gone to join the impossible.\n\nSince then Tarzan of the Apes had felt a warm, lithe form close pressed\nto his.  Hot, sweet breath against his cheek and mouth had fanned a new\nflame to life within his breast, and perfect lips had clung to his in\nburning kisses that had seared a deep brand into his soul--a brand\nwhich marked a new Tarzan.\n\nAgain he laid his hand upon her arm.  Again she repulsed him.  And then\nTarzan of the Apes did just what his first ancestor would have done.\n\nHe took his woman in his arms and carried her into the jungle.\n\n\nEarly the following morning the four within the little cabin by the\nbeach were awakened by the booming of a cannon.  Clayton was the first\nto rush out, and there, beyond the harbor's mouth, he saw two vessels\nlying at anchor.\n\nOne was the Arrow and the other a small French cruiser.  The sides of\nthe latter were crowded with men gazing shoreward, and it was evident\nto Clayton, as to the others who had now joined him, that the gun which\nthey had heard had been fired to attract their attention if they still\nremained at the cabin.\n\nBoth vessels lay at a considerable distance from shore, and it was\ndoubtful if their glasses would locate the waving hats of the little\nparty far in between the harbor's points.\n\nEsmeralda had removed her red apron and was waving it frantically above\nher head; but Clayton, still fearing that even this might not be seen,\nhurried off toward the northern point where lay his signal pyre ready\nfor the match.\n\nIt seemed an age to him, as to those who waited breathlessly behind,\nere he reached the great pile of dry branches and underbrush.\n\nAs he broke from the dense wood and came in sight of the vessels again,\nhe was filled with consternation to see that the Arrow was making sail\nand that the cruiser was already under way.\n\nQuickly lighting the pyre in a dozen places, he hurried to the extreme\npoint of the promontory, where he stripped off his shirt, and, tying it\nto a fallen branch, stood waving it back and forth above him.\n\nBut still the vessels continued to stand out; and he had given up all\nhope, when the great column of smoke, rising above the forest in one\ndense vertical shaft, attracted the attention of a lookout aboard the\ncruiser, and instantly a dozen glasses were leveled on the beach.\n\nPresently Clayton saw the two ships come about again; and while the\nArrow lay drifting quietly on the ocean, the cruiser steamed slowly\nback toward shore.\n\nAt some distance away she stopped, and a boat was lowered and\ndispatched toward the beach.\n\nAs it was drawn up a young officer stepped out.\n\n\"Monsieur Clayton, I presume?\" he asked.\n\n\"Thank God, you have come!\" was Clayton's reply.  \"And it may be that\nit is not too late even now.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, Monsieur?\" asked the officer.\n\nClayton told of the abduction of Jane Porter and the need of armed men\nto aid in the search for her.\n\n\"MON DIEU!\" exclaimed the officer, sadly.  \"Yesterday and it would not\nhave been too late.  Today and it may be better that the poor lady were\nnever found.  It is horrible, Monsieur.  It is too horrible.\"\n\nOther boats had now put off from the cruiser, and Clayton, having\npointed out the harbor's entrance to the officer, entered the boat with\nhim and its nose was turned toward the little landlocked bay, into\nwhich the other craft followed.\n\nSoon the entire party had landed where stood Professor Porter, Mr.\nPhilander and the weeping Esmeralda.\n\nAmong the officers in the last boats to put off from the cruiser was\nthe commander of the vessel; and when he had heard the story of Jane's\nabduction, he generously called for volunteers to accompany Professor\nPorter and Clayton in their search.\n\nNot an officer or a man was there of those brave and sympathetic\nFrenchmen who did not quickly beg leave to be one of the expedition.\n\nThe commander selected twenty men and two officers, Lieutenant D'Arnot\nand Lieutenant Charpentier.  A boat was dispatched to the cruiser for\nprovisions, ammunition, and carbines; the men were already armed with\nrevolvers.\n\nThen, to Clayton's inquiries as to how they had happened to anchor off\nshore and fire a signal gun, the commander, Captain Dufranne, explained\nthat a month before they had sighted the Arrow bearing southwest under\nconsiderable canvas, and that when they had signaled her to come about\nshe had but crowded on more sail.\n\nThey had kept her hull-up until sunset, firing several shots after her,\nbut the next morning she was nowhere to be seen.  They had then\ncontinued to cruise up and down the coast for several weeks, and had\nabout forgotten the incident of the recent chase, when, early one\nmorning a few days before the lookout had described a vessel laboring\nin the trough of a heavy sea and evidently entirely out of control.\n\nAs they steamed nearer to the derelict they were surprised to note that\nit was the same vessel that had run from them a few weeks earlier.  Her\nforestaysail and mizzen spanker were set as though an effort had been\nmade to hold her head up into the wind, but the sheets had parted, and\nthe sails were tearing to ribbons in the half gale of wind.\n\nIn the high sea that was running it was a difficult and dangerous task\nto attempt to put a prize crew aboard her; and as no signs of life had\nbeen seen above deck, it was decided to stand by until the wind and sea\nabated; but just then a figure was seen clinging to the rail and feebly\nwaving a mute signal of despair toward them.\n\nImmediately a boat's crew was ordered out and an attempt was\nsuccessfully made to board the Arrow.\n\nThe sight that met the Frenchmen's eyes as they clambered over the\nship's side was appalling.\n\nA dozen dead and dying men rolled hither and thither upon the pitching\ndeck, the living intermingled with the dead.  Two of the corpses\nappeared to have been partially devoured as though by wolves.\n\nThe prize crew soon had the vessel under proper sail once more and the\nliving members of the ill-starred company carried below to their\nhammocks.\n\nThe dead were wrapped in tarpaulins and lashed on deck to be identified\nby their comrades before being consigned to the deep.\n\nNone of the living was conscious when the Frenchmen reached the Arrow's\ndeck.  Even the poor devil who had waved the single despairing signal\nof distress had lapsed into unconsciousness before he had learned\nwhether it had availed or not.\n\nIt did not take the French officer long to learn what had caused the\nterrible condition aboard; for when water and brandy were sought to\nrestore the men, it was found that there was none, nor even food of any\ndescription.\n\nHe immediately signalled to the cruiser to send water, medicine, and\nprovisions, and another boat made the perilous trip to the Arrow.\n\nWhen restoratives had been applied several of the men regained\nconsciousness, and then the whole story was told.  That part of it we\nknow up to the sailing of the Arrow after the murder of Snipes, and the\nburial of his body above the treasure chest.\n\nIt seems that the pursuit by the cruiser had so terrorized the\nmutineers that they had continued out across the Atlantic for several\ndays after losing her; but on discovering the meager supply of water\nand provisions aboard, they had turned back toward the east.\n\nWith no one on board who understood navigation, discussions soon arose\nas to their whereabouts; and as three days' sailing to the east did not\nraise land, they bore off to the north, fearing that the high north\nwinds that had prevailed had driven them south of the southern\nextremity of Africa.\n\nThey kept on a north-northeasterly course for two days, when they were\novertaken by a calm which lasted for nearly a week.  Their water was\ngone, and in another day they would be without food.\n\nConditions changed rapidly from bad to worse.  One man went mad and\nleaped overboard.  Soon another opened his veins and drank his own\nblood.\n\nWhen he died they threw him overboard also, though there were those\namong them who wanted to keep the corpse on board.  Hunger was changing\nthem from human beasts to wild beasts.\n\nTwo days before they had been picked up by the cruiser they had become\ntoo weak to handle the vessel, and that same day three men died.  On\nthe following morning it was seen that one of the corpses had been\npartially devoured.\n\nAll that day the men lay glaring at each other like beasts of prey, and\nthe following morning two of the corpses lay almost entirely stripped\nof flesh.\n\nThe men were but little stronger for their ghoulish repast, for the\nwant of water was by far the greatest agony with which they had to\ncontend.  And then the cruiser had come.\n\nWhen those who could had recovered, the entire story had been told to\nthe French commander; but the men were too ignorant to be able to tell\nhim at just what point on the coast the professor and his party had\nbeen marooned, so the cruiser had steamed slowly along within sight of\nland, firing occasional signal guns and scanning every inch of the\nbeach with glasses.\n\nThey had anchored by night so as not to neglect a particle of the shore\nline, and it had happened that the preceding night had brought them off\nthe very beach where lay the little camp they sought.\n\nThe signal guns of the afternoon before had not been heard by those on\nshore, it was presumed, because they had doubtless been in the thick of\nthe jungle searching for Jane Porter, where the noise of their own\ncrashing through the underbrush would have drowned the report of a far\ndistant gun.\n\nBy the time the two parties had narrated their several adventures, the\ncruiser's boat had returned with supplies and arms for the expedition.\n\nWithin a few minutes the little body of sailors and the two French\nofficers, together with Professor Porter and Clayton, set off upon\ntheir hopeless and ill-fated quest into the untracked jungle.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XX\n\nHeredity\n\n\nWhen Jane realized that she was being borne away a captive by the\nstrange forest creature who had rescued her from the clutches of the\nape she struggled desperately to escape, but the strong arms that held\nher as easily as though she had been but a day-old babe only pressed a\nlittle more tightly.\n\nSo presently she gave up the futile effort and lay quietly, looking\nthrough half-closed lids at the face of the man who strode easily\nthrough the tangled undergrowth with her.\n\nThe face above her was one of extraordinary beauty.\n\nA perfect type of the strongly masculine, unmarred by dissipation, or\nbrutal or degrading passions.  For, though Tarzan of the Apes was a\nkiller of men and of beasts, he killed as the hunter kills,\ndispassionately, except on those rare occasions when he had killed for\nhate--though not the brooding, malevolent hate which marks the features\nof its own with hideous lines.\n\nWhen Tarzan killed he more often smiled than scowled, and smiles are\nthe foundation of beauty.\n\nOne thing the girl had noticed particularly when she had seen Tarzan\nrushing upon Terkoz--the vivid scarlet band upon his forehead, from\nabove the left eye to the scalp; but now as she scanned his features\nshe noticed that it was gone, and only a thin white line marked the\nspot where it had been.\n\nAs she lay more quietly in his arms Tarzan slightly relaxed his grip\nupon her.\n\nOnce he looked down into her eyes and smiled, and the girl had to close\nher own to shut out the vision of that handsome, winning face.\n\nPresently Tarzan took to the trees, and Jane, wondering that she felt\nno fear, began to realize that in many respects she had never felt more\nsecure in her whole life than now as she lay in the arms of this\nstrong, wild creature, being borne, God alone knew where or to what\nfate, deeper and deeper into the savage fastness of the untamed forest.\n\nWhen, with closed eyes, she commenced to speculate upon the future, and\nterrifying fears were conjured by a vivid imagination, she had but to\nraise her lids and look upon that noble face so close to hers to\ndissipate the last remnant of apprehension.\n\nNo, he could never harm her; of that she was convinced when she\ntranslated the fine features and the frank, brave eyes above her into\nthe chivalry which they proclaimed.\n\nOn and on they went through what seemed to Jane a solid mass of\nverdure, yet ever there appeared to open before this forest god a\npassage, as by magic, which closed behind them as they passed.\n\nScarce a branch scraped against her, yet above and below, before and\nbehind, the view presented naught but a solid mass of inextricably\ninterwoven branches and creepers.\n\nAs Tarzan moved steadily onward his mind was occupied with many strange\nand new thoughts.  Here was a problem the like of which he had never\nencountered, and he felt rather than reasoned that he must meet it as a\nman and not as an ape.\n\nThe free movement through the middle terrace, which was the route he\nhad followed for the most part, had helped to cool the ardor of the\nfirst fierce passion of his new found love.\n\nNow he discovered himself speculating upon the fate which would have\nfallen to the girl had he not rescued her from Terkoz.\n\nHe knew why the ape had not killed her, and he commenced to compare his\nintentions with those of Terkoz.\n\nTrue, it was the order of the jungle for the male to take his mate by\nforce; but could Tarzan be guided by the laws of the beasts?  Was not\nTarzan a Man?  But what did men do?  He was puzzled; for he did not\nknow.\n\nHe wished that he might ask the girl, and then it came to him that she\nhad already answered him in the futile struggle she had made to escape\nand to repulse him.\n\nBut now they had come to their destination, and Tarzan of the Apes with\nJane in his strong arms, swung lightly to the turf of the arena where\nthe great apes held their councils and danced the wild orgy of the\nDum-Dum.\n\nThough they had come many miles, it was still but midafternoon, and the\namphitheater was bathed in the half light which filtered through the\nmaze of encircling foliage.\n\nThe green turf looked soft and cool and inviting.  The myriad noises of\nthe jungle seemed far distant and hushed to a mere echo of blurred\nsounds, rising and falling like the surf upon a remote shore.\n\nA feeling of dreamy peacefulness stole over Jane as she sank down upon\nthe grass where Tarzan had placed her, and as she looked up at his\ngreat figure towering above her, there was added a strange sense of\nperfect security.\n\nAs she watched him from beneath half-closed lids, Tarzan crossed the\nlittle circular clearing toward the trees upon the further side.  She\nnoted the graceful majesty of his carriage, the perfect symmetry of his\nmagnificent figure and the poise of his well-shaped head upon his broad\nshoulders.\n\nWhat a perfect creature!  There could be naught of cruelty or baseness\nbeneath that godlike exterior.  Never, she thought had such a man\nstrode the earth since God created the first in his own image.\n\nWith a bound Tarzan sprang into the trees and disappeared.  Jane\nwondered where he had gone.  Had he left her there to her fate in the\nlonely jungle?\n\nShe glanced nervously about.  Every vine and bush seemed but the\nlurking-place of some huge and horrible beast waiting to bury gleaming\nfangs into her soft flesh.  Every sound she magnified into the stealthy\ncreeping of a sinuous and malignant body.\n\nHow different now that he had left her!\n\nFor a few minutes that seemed hours to the frightened girl, she sat\nwith tense nerves waiting for the spring of the crouching thing that\nwas to end her misery of apprehension.\n\nShe almost prayed for the cruel teeth that would give her\nunconsciousness and surcease from the agony of fear.\n\nShe heard a sudden, slight sound behind her.  With a cry she sprang to\nher feet and turned to face her end.\n\nThere stood Tarzan, his arms filled with ripe and luscious fruit.\n\nJane reeled and would have fallen, had not Tarzan, dropping his burden,\ncaught her in his arms.  She did not lose consciousness, but she clung\ntightly to him, shuddering and trembling like a frightened deer.\n\nTarzan of the Apes stroked her soft hair and tried to comfort and quiet\nher as Kala had him, when, as a little ape, he had been frightened by\nSabor, the lioness, or Histah, the snake.\n\nOnce he pressed his lips lightly upon her forehead, and she did not\nmove, but closed her eyes and sighed.\n\nShe could not analyze her feelings, nor did she wish to attempt it.\nShe was satisfied to feel the safety of those strong arms, and to leave\nher future to fate; for the last few hours had taught her to trust this\nstrange wild creature of the forest as she would have trusted but few\nof the men of her acquaintance.\n\nAs she thought of the strangeness of it, there commenced to dawn upon\nher the realization that she had, possibly, learned something else\nwhich she had never really known before--love.  She wondered and then\nshe smiled.\n\nAnd still smiling, she pushed Tarzan gently away; and looking at him\nwith a half-smiling, half-quizzical expression that made her face\nwholly entrancing, she pointed to the fruit upon the ground, and seated\nherself upon the edge of the earthen drum of the anthropoids, for\nhunger was asserting itself.\n\nTarzan quickly gathered up the fruit, and, bringing it, laid it at her\nfeet; and then he, too, sat upon the drum beside her, and with his\nknife opened and prepared the various fruits for her meal.\n\nTogether and in silence they ate, occasionally stealing sly glances at\none another, until finally Jane broke into a merry laugh in which\nTarzan joined.\n\n\"I wish you spoke English,\" said the girl.\n\nTarzan shook his head, and an expression of wistful and pathetic\nlonging sobered his laughing eyes.\n\nThen Jane tried speaking to him in French, and then in German; but she\nhad to laugh at her own blundering attempt at the latter tongue.\n\n\"Anyway,\" she said to him in English, \"you understand my German as well\nas they did in Berlin.\"\n\nTarzan had long since reached a decision as to what his future\nprocedure should be.  He had had time to recollect all that he had read\nof the ways of men and women in the books at the cabin.  He would act\nas he imagined the men in the books would have acted were they in his\nplace.\n\nAgain he rose and went into the trees, but first he tried to explain by\nmeans of signs that he would return shortly, and he did so well that\nJane understood and was not afraid when he had gone.\n\nOnly a feeling of loneliness came over her and she watched the point\nwhere he had disappeared, with longing eyes, awaiting his return.  As\nbefore, she was appraised of his presence by a soft sound behind her,\nand turned to see him coming across the turf with a great armful of\nbranches.\n\nThen he went back again into the jungle and in a few minutes reappeared\nwith a quantity of soft grasses and ferns.\n\nTwo more trips he made until he had quite a pile of material at hand.\n\nThen he spread the ferns and grasses upon the ground in a soft flat\nbed, and above it leaned many branches together so that they met a few\nfeet over its center.  Upon these he spread layers of huge leaves of\nthe great elephant's ear, and with more branches and more leaves he\nclosed one end of the little shelter he had built.\n\nThen they sat down together again upon the edge of the drum and tried\nto talk by signs.\n\nThe magnificent diamond locket which hung about Tarzan's neck, had been\na source of much wonderment to Jane.  She pointed to it now, and Tarzan\nremoved it and handed the pretty bauble to her.\n\nShe saw that it was the work of a skilled artisan and that the diamonds\nwere of great brilliancy and superbly set, but the cutting of them\ndenoted that they were of a former day.  She noticed too that the\nlocket opened, and, pressing the hidden clasp, she saw the two halves\nspring apart to reveal in either section an ivory miniature.\n\nOne was of a beautiful woman and the other might have been a likeness\nof the man who sat beside her, except for a subtle difference of\nexpression that was scarcely definable.\n\nShe looked up at Tarzan to find him leaning toward her gazing on the\nminiatures with an expression of astonishment.  He reached out his hand\nfor the locket and took it away from her, examining the likenesses\nwithin with unmistakable signs of surprise and new interest.  His\nmanner clearly denoted that he had never before seen them, nor imagined\nthat the locket opened.\n\nThis fact caused Jane to indulge in further speculation, and it taxed\nher imagination to picture how this beautiful ornament came into the\npossession of a wild and savage creature of the unexplored jungles of\nAfrica.\n\nStill more wonderful was how it contained the likeness of one who might\nbe a brother, or, more likely, the father of this woodland demi-god who\nwas even ignorant of the fact that the locket opened.\n\nTarzan was still gazing with fixity at the two faces.  Presently he\nremoved the quiver from his shoulder, and emptying the arrows upon the\nground reached into the bottom of the bag-like receptacle and drew\nforth a flat object wrapped in many soft leaves and tied with bits of\nlong grass.\n\nCarefully he unwrapped it, removing layer after layer of leaves until\nat length he held a photograph in his hand.\n\nPointing to the miniature of the man within the locket he handed the\nphotograph to Jane, holding the open locket beside it.\n\nThe photograph only served to puzzle the girl still more, for it was\nevidently another likeness of the same man whose picture rested in the\nlocket beside that of the beautiful young woman.\n\nTarzan was looking at her with an expression of puzzled bewilderment in\nhis eyes as she glanced up at him.  He seemed to be framing a question\nwith his lips.\n\nThe girl pointed to the photograph and then to the miniature and then\nto him, as though to indicate that she thought the likenesses were of\nhim, but he only shook his head, and then shrugging his great\nshoulders, he took the photograph from her and having carefully\nrewrapped it, placed it again in the bottom of his quiver.\n\nFor a few moments he sat in silence, his eyes bent upon the ground,\nwhile Jane held the little locket in her hand, turning it over and over\nin an endeavor to find some further clue that might lead to the\nidentity of its original owner.\n\nAt length a simple explanation occurred to her.\n\nThe locket had belonged to Lord Greystoke, and the likenesses were of\nhimself and Lady Alice.\n\nThis wild creature had simply found it in the cabin by the beach.  How\nstupid of her not to have thought of that solution before.\n\nBut to account for the strange likeness between Lord Greystoke and this\nforest god--that was quite beyond her, and it is not strange that she\ncould not imagine that this naked savage was indeed an English nobleman.\n\nAt length Tarzan looked up to watch the girl as she examined the\nlocket.  He could not fathom the meaning of the faces within, but he\ncould read the interest and fascination upon the face of the live young\ncreature by his side.\n\nShe noticed that he was watching her and thinking that he wished his\nornament again she held it out to him.  He took it from her and taking\nthe chain in his two hands he placed it about her neck, smiling at her\nexpression of surprise at his unexpected gift.\n\nJane shook her head vehemently and would have removed the golden links\nfrom about her throat, but Tarzan would not let her.  Taking her hands\nin his, when she insisted upon it, he held them tightly to prevent her.\n\nAt last she desisted and with a little laugh raised the locket to her\nlips.\n\nTarzan did not know precisely what she meant, but he guessed correctly\nthat it was her way of acknowledging the gift, and so he rose, and\ntaking the locket in his hand, stooped gravely like some courtier of\nold, and pressed his lips upon it where hers had rested.\n\nIt was a stately and gallant little compliment performed with the grace\nand dignity of utter unconsciousness of self.  It was the hall-mark of\nhis aristocratic birth, the natural outcropping of many generations of\nfine breeding, an hereditary instinct of graciousness which a lifetime\nof uncouth and savage training and environment could not eradicate.\n\nIt was growing dark now, and so they ate again of the fruit which was\nboth food and drink for them; then Tarzan rose, and leading Jane to the\nlittle bower he had erected, motioned her to go within.\n\nFor the first time in hours a feeling of fear swept over her, and\nTarzan felt her draw away as though shrinking from him.\n\nContact with this girl for half a day had left a very diferent Tarzan\nfrom the one on whom the morning's sun had risen.\n\nNow, in every fiber of his being, heredity spoke louder than training.\n\nHe had not in one swift transition become a polished gentleman from a\nsavage ape-man, but at last the instincts of the former predominated,\nand over all was the desire to please the woman he loved, and to appear\nwell in her eyes.\n\nSo Tarzan of the Apes did the only thing he knew to assure Jane of her\nsafety.  He removed his hunting knife from its sheath and handed it to\nher hilt first, again motioning her into the bower.\n\nThe girl understood, and taking the long knife she entered and lay down\nupon the soft grasses while Tarzan of the Apes stretched himself upon\nthe ground across the entrance.\n\nAnd thus the rising sun found them in the morning.\n\nWhen Jane awoke, she did not at first recall the strange events of the\npreceding day, and so she wondered at her odd surroundings--the little\nleafy bower, the soft grasses of her bed, the unfamiliar prospect from\nthe opening at her feet.\n\nSlowly the circumstances of her position crept one by one into her\nmind.  And then a great wonderment arose in her heart--a mighty wave of\nthankfulness and gratitude that though she had been in such terrible\ndanger, yet she was unharmed.\n\nShe moved to the entrance of the shelter to look for Tarzan.  He was\ngone; but this time no fear assailed her for she knew that he would\nreturn.\n\nIn the grass at the entrance to her bower she saw the imprint of his\nbody where he had lain all night to guard her.  She knew that the fact\nthat he had been there was all that had permitted her to sleep in such\npeaceful security.\n\nWith him near, who could entertain fear?  She wondered if there was\nanother man on earth with whom a girl could feel so safe in the heart\nof this savage African jungle.  Even the lions and panthers had no\nfears for her now.\n\nShe looked up to see his lithe form drop softly from a near-by tree.\nAs he caught her eyes upon him his face lighted with that frank and\nradiant smile that had won her confidence the day before.\n\nAs he approached her Jane's heart beat faster and her eyes brightened\nas they had never done before at the approach of any man.\n\nHe had again been gathering fruit and this he laid at the entrance of\nher bower.  Once more they sat down together to eat.\n\nJane commenced to wonder what his plans were.  Would he take her back\nto the beach or would he keep her here?  Suddenly she realized that the\nmatter did not seem to give her much concern.  Could it be that she did\nnot care!\n\nShe began to comprehend, also, that she was entirely contented sitting\nhere by the side of this smiling giant eating delicious fruit in a\nsylvan paradise far within the remote depths of an African jungle--that\nshe was contented and very happy.\n\nShe could not understand it.  Her reason told her that she should be\ntorn by wild anxieties, weighted by dread fears, cast down by gloomy\nforebodings; but instead, her heart was singing and she was smiling\ninto the answering face of the man beside her.\n\nWhen they had finished their breakfast Tarzan went to her bower and\nrecovered his knife.  The girl had entirely forgotten it.  She realized\nthat it was because she had forgotten the fear that prompted her to\naccept it.\n\nMotioning her to follow, Tarzan walked toward the trees at the edge of\nthe arena, and taking her in one strong arm swung to the branches above.\n\nThe girl knew that he was taking her back to her people, and she could\nnot understand the sudden feeling of loneliness and sorrow which crept\nover her.\n\nFor hours they swung slowly along.\n\nTarzan of the Apes did not hurry.  He tried to draw out the sweet\npleasure of that journey with those dear arms about his neck as long as\npossible, and so he went far south of the direct route to the beach.\n\nSeveral times they halted for brief rests, which Tarzan did not need,\nand at noon they stopped for an hour at a little brook, where they\nquenched their thirst, and ate.\n\nSo it was nearly sunset when they came to the clearing, and Tarzan,\ndropping to the ground beside a great tree, parted the tall jungle\ngrass and pointed out the little cabin to her.\n\nShe took him by the hand to lead him to it, that she might tell her\nfather that this man had saved her from death and worse than death,\nthat he had watched over her as carefully as a mother might have done.\n\nBut again the timidity of the wild thing in the face of human\nhabitation swept over Tarzan of the Apes.  He drew back, shaking his\nhead.\n\nThe girl came close to him, looking up with pleading eyes.  Somehow she\ncould not bear the thought of his going back into the terrible jungle\nalone.\n\nStill he shook his head, and finally he drew her to him very gently and\nstooped to kiss her, but first he looked into her eyes and waited to\nlearn if she were pleased, or if she would repulse him.\n\nJust an instant the girl hesitated, and then she realized the truth,\nand throwing her arms about his neck she drew his face to hers and\nkissed him--unashamed.\n\n\"I love you--I love you,\" she murmured.\n\nFrom far in the distance came the faint sound of many guns.  Tarzan and\nJane raised their heads.\n\nFrom the cabin came Mr. Philander and Esmeralda.\n\nFrom where Tarzan and the girl stood they could not see the two vessels\nlying at anchor in the harbor.\n\nTarzan pointed toward the sounds, touched his breast and pointed again.\nShe understood.  He was going, and something told her that it was\nbecause he thought her people were in danger.\n\nAgain he kissed her.\n\n\"Come back to me,\" she whispered.  \"I shall wait for you--always.\"\n\nHe was gone--and Jane turned to walk across the clearing to the cabin.\n\nMr. Philander was the first to see her.  It was dusk and Mr. Philander\nwas very near sighted.\n\n\"Quickly, Esmeralda!\" he cried.  \"Let us seek safety within; it is a\nlioness.  Bless me!\"\n\nEsmeralda did not bother to verify Mr. Philander's vision.  His tone\nwas enough.  She was within the cabin and had slammed and bolted the\ndoor before he had finished pronouncing her name.  The \"Bless me\" was\nstartled out of Mr. Philander by the discovery that Esmeralda, in the\nexuberance of her haste, had fastened him upon the same side of the\ndoor as was the close-approaching lioness.\n\nHe beat furiously upon the heavy portal.\n\n\"Esmeralda!  Esmeralda!\" he shrieked.  \"Let me in.  I am being devoured\nby a lion.\"\n\nEsmeralda thought that the noise upon the door was made by the lioness\nin her attempts to pursue her, so, after her custom, she fainted.\n\nMr. Philander cast a frightened glance behind him.\n\nHorrors!  The thing was quite close now.  He tried to scramble up the\nside of the cabin, and succeeded in catching a fleeting hold upon the\nthatched roof.\n\nFor a moment he hung there, clawing with his feet like a cat on a\nclothesline, but presently a piece of the thatch came away, and Mr.\nPhilander, preceding it, was precipitated upon his back.\n\nAt the instant he fell a remarkable item of natural history leaped to\nhis mind.  If one feigns death lions and lionesses are supposed to\nignore one, according to Mr. Philander's faulty memory.\n\nSo Mr. Philander lay as he had fallen, frozen into the horrid semblance\nof death.  As his arms and legs had been extended stiffly upward as he\ncame to earth upon his back the attitude of death was anything but\nimpressive.\n\nJane had been watching his antics in mild-eyed surprise.  Now she\nlaughed--a little choking gurgle of a laugh; but it was enough.  Mr.\nPhilander rolled over upon his side and peered about.  At length he\ndiscovered her.\n\n\"Jane!\" he cried.  \"Jane Porter.  Bless me!\"\n\nHe scrambled to his feet and rushed toward her.  He could not believe\nthat it was she, and alive.\n\n\"Bless me!\"  Where did you come from?  Where in the world have you\nbeen?  How--\"\n\n\"Mercy, Mr. Philander,\" interrupted the girl, \"I can never remember so\nmany questions.\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" said Mr. Philander.  \"Bless me!  I am so filled with\nsurprise and exuberant delight at seeing you safe and well again that I\nscarcely know what I am saying, really.  But come, tell me all that has\nhappened to you.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXI\n\nThe Village of Torture\n\n\nAs the little expedition of sailors toiled through the dense jungle\nsearching for signs of Jane Porter, the futility of their venture\nbecame more and more apparent, but the grief of the old man and the\nhopeless eyes of the young Englishman prevented the kind hearted\nD'Arnot from turning back.\n\nHe thought that there might be a bare possibility of finding her body,\nor the remains of it, for he was positive that she had been devoured by\nsome beast of prey.  He deployed his men into a skirmish line from the\npoint where Esmeralda had been found, and in this extended formation\nthey pushed their way, sweating and panting, through the tangled vines\nand creepers.  It was slow work.  Noon found them but a few miles\ninland.  They halted for a brief rest then, and after pushing on for a\nshort distance further one of the men discovered a well-marked trail.\n\nIt was an old elephant track, and D'Arnot after consulting with\nProfessor Porter and Clayton decided to follow it.\n\nThe path wound through the jungle in a northeasterly direction, and\nalong it the column moved in single file.\n\nLieutenant D'Arnot was in the lead and moving at a quick pace, for the\ntrail was comparatively open.  Immediately behind him came Professor\nPorter, but as he could not keep pace with the younger man D'Arnot was\na hundred yards in advance when suddenly a half dozen black warriors\narose about him.\n\nD'Arnot gave a warning shout to his column as the blacks closed on him,\nbut before he could draw his revolver he had been pinioned and dragged\ninto the jungle.\n\nHis cry had alarmed the sailors and a dozen of them sprang forward past\nProfessor Porter, running up the trail to their officer's aid.\n\nThey did not know the cause of his outcry, only that it was a warning\nof danger ahead.  They had rushed past the spot where D'Arnot had been\nseized when a spear hurled from the jungle transfixed one of the men,\nand then a volley of arrows fell among them.\n\nRaising their rifles they fired into the underbrush in the direction\nfrom which the missiles had come.\n\nBy this time the balance of the party had come up, and volley after\nvolley was fired toward the concealed foe.  It was these shots that\nTarzan and Jane Porter had heard.\n\nLieutenant Charpentier, who had been bringing up the rear of the\ncolumn, now came running to the scene, and on hearing the details of\nthe ambush ordered the men to follow him, and plunged into the tangled\nvegetation.\n\nIn an instant they were in a hand-to-hand fight with some fifty black\nwarriors of Mbonga's village.  Arrows and bullets flew thick and fast.\n\nQueer African knives and French gun butts mingled for a moment in\nsavage and bloody duels, but soon the natives fled into the jungle,\nleaving the Frenchmen to count their losses.\n\nFour of the twenty were dead, a dozen others were wounded, and\nLieutenant D'Arnot was missing.  Night was falling rapidly, and their\npredicament was rendered doubly worse when they could not even find the\nelephant trail which they had been following.\n\nThere was but one thing to do, make camp where they were until\ndaylight.  Lieutenant Charpentier ordered a clearing made and a\ncircular abatis of underbrush constructed about the camp.\n\nThis work was not completed until long after dark, the men building a\nhuge fire in the center of the clearing to give them light to work by.\n\nWhen all was safe as possible against attack of wild beasts and savage\nmen, Lieutenant Charpentier placed sentries about the little camp and\nthe tired and hungry men threw themselves upon the ground to sleep.\n\nThe groans of the wounded, mingled with the roaring and growling of the\ngreat beasts which the noise and firelight had attracted, kept sleep,\nexcept in its most fitful form, from the tired eyes.  It was a sad and\nhungry party that lay through the long night praying for dawn.\n\nThe blacks who had seized D'Arnot had not waited to participate in the\nfight which followed, but instead had dragged their prisoner a little\nway through the jungle and then struck the trail further on beyond the\nscene of the fighting in which their fellows were engaged.\n\nThey hurried him along, the sounds of battle growing fainter and\nfainter as they drew away from the contestants until there suddenly\nbroke upon D'Arnot's vision a good-sized clearing at one end of which\nstood a thatched and palisaded village.\n\nIt was now dusk, but the watchers at the gate saw the approaching trio\nand distinguished one as a prisoner ere they reached the portals.\n\nA cry went up within the palisade.  A great throng of women and\nchildren rushed out to meet the party.\n\nAnd then began for the French officer the most terrifying experience\nwhich man can encounter upon earth--the reception of a white prisoner\ninto a village of African cannibals.\n\nTo add to the fiendishness of their cruel savagery was the poignant\nmemory of still crueler barbarities practiced upon them and theirs by\nthe white officers of that arch hypocrite, Leopold II of Belgium,\nbecause of whose atrocities they had fled the Congo Free State--a\npitiful remnant of what once had been a mighty tribe.\n\nThey fell upon D'Arnot tooth and nail, beating him with sticks and\nstones and tearing at him with claw-like hands.  Every vestige of\nclothing was torn from him, and the merciless blows fell upon his bare\nand quivering flesh.  But not once did the Frenchman cry out in pain.\nHe breathed a silent prayer that he be quickly delivered from his\ntorture.\n\nBut the death he prayed for was not to be so easily had.  Soon the\nwarriors beat the women away from their prisoner.  He was to be saved\nfor nobler sport than this, and the first wave of their passion having\nsubsided they contented themselves with crying out taunts and insults\nand spitting upon him.\n\nPresently they reached the center of the village.  There D'Arnot was\nbound securely to the great post from which no live man had ever been\nreleased.\n\nA number of the women scattered to their several huts to fetch pots and\nwater, while others built a row of fires on which portions of the feast\nwere to be boiled while the balance would be slowly dried in strips for\nfuture use, as they expected the other warriors to return with many\nprisoners.  The festivities were delayed awaiting the return of the\nwarriors who had remained to engage in the skirmish with the white men,\nso that it was quite late when all were in the village, and the dance\nof death commenced to circle around the doomed officer.\n\nHalf fainting from pain and exhaustion, D'Arnot watched from beneath\nhalf-closed lids what seemed but the vagary of delirium, or some horrid\nnightmare from which he must soon awake.\n\nThe bestial faces, daubed with color--the huge mouths and flabby\nhanging lips--the yellow teeth, sharp filed--the rolling, demon\neyes--the shining naked bodies--the cruel spears.  Surely no such\ncreatures really existed upon earth--he must indeed be dreaming.\n\nThe savage, whirling bodies circled nearer.  Now a spear sprang forth\nand touched his arm.  The sharp pain and the feel of hot, trickling\nblood assured him of the awful reality of his hopeless position.\n\nAnother spear and then another touched him.  He closed his eyes and\nheld his teeth firm set--he would not cry out.\n\nHe was a soldier of France, and he would teach these beasts how an\nofficer and a gentleman died.\n\n\nTarzan of the Apes needed no interpreter to translate the story of\nthose distant shots.  With Jane Porter's kisses still warm upon his\nlips he was swinging with incredible rapidity through the forest trees\nstraight toward the village of Mbonga.\n\nHe was not interested in the location of the encounter, for he judged\nthat that would soon be over.  Those who were killed he could not aid,\nthose who escaped would not need his assistance.\n\nIt was to those who had neither been killed or escaped that he\nhastened.  And he knew that he would find them by the great post in the\ncenter of Mbonga village.\n\nMany times had Tarzan seen Mbonga's black raiding parties return from\nthe northward with prisoners, and always were the same scenes enacted\nabout that grim stake, beneath the flaring light of many fires.\n\nHe knew, too, that they seldom lost much time before consummating the\nfiendish purpose of their captures.  He doubted that he would arrive in\ntime to do more than avenge.\n\nOn he sped.  Night had fallen and he traveled high along the upper\nterrace where the gorgeous tropic moon lighted the dizzy pathway\nthrough the gently undulating branches of the tree tops.\n\nPresently he caught the reflection of a distant blaze.  It lay to the\nright of his path.  It must be the light from the camp fire the two men\nhad built before they were attacked--Tarzan knew nothing of the\npresence of the sailors.\n\nSo sure was Tarzan of his jungle knowledge that he did not turn from\nhis course, but passed the glare at a distance of a half mile.  It was\nthe camp fire of the Frenchmen.\n\nIn a few minutes more Tarzan swung into the trees above Mbonga's\nvillage.  Ah, he was not quite too late!  Or, was he?  He could not\ntell.  The figure at the stake was very still, yet the black warriors\nwere but pricking it.\n\nTarzan knew their customs.  The death blow had not been struck.  He\ncould tell almost to a minute how far the dance had gone.\n\nIn another instant Mbonga's knife would sever one of the victim's\nears--that would mark the beginning of the end, for very shortly after\nonly a writhing mass of mutilated flesh would remain.\n\nThere would still be life in it, but death then would be the only\ncharity it craved.\n\nThe stake stood forty feet from the nearest tree.  Tarzan coiled his\nrope.  Then there rose suddenly above the fiendish cries of the dancing\ndemons the awful challenge of the ape-man.\n\nThe dancers halted as though turned to stone.\n\nThe rope sped with singing whir high above the heads of the blacks.  It\nwas quite invisible in the flaring lights of the camp fires.\n\nD'Arnot opened his eyes.  A huge black, standing directly before him,\nlunged backward as though felled by an invisible hand.\n\nStruggling and shrieking, his body, rolling from side to side, moved\nquickly toward the shadows beneath the trees.\n\nThe blacks, their eyes protruding in horror, watched spellbound.\n\nOnce beneath the trees, the body rose straight into the air, and as it\ndisappeared into the foliage above, the terrified negroes, screaming\nwith fright, broke into a mad race for the village gate.\n\nD'Arnot was left alone.\n\nHe was a brave man, but he had felt the short hairs bristle upon the\nnape of his neck when that uncanny cry rose upon the air.\n\nAs the writhing body of the black soared, as though by unearthly power,\ninto the dense foliage of the forest, D'Arnot felt an icy shiver run\nalong his spine, as though death had risen from a dark grave and laid a\ncold and clammy finger on his flesh.\n\nAs D'Arnot watched the spot where the body had entered the tree he\nheard the sounds of movement there.\n\nThe branches swayed as though under the weight of a man's body--there\nwas a crash and the black came sprawling to earth again,--to lie very\nquietly where he had fallen.\n\nImmediately after him came a white body, but this one alighted erect.\n\nD'Arnot saw a clean-limbed young giant emerge from the shadows into the\nfirelight and come quickly toward him.\n\nWhat could it mean?  Who could it be?  Some new creature of torture and\ndestruction, doubtless.\n\nD'Arnot waited.  His eyes never left the face of the advancing man.\nNor did the other's frank, clear eyes waver beneath D'Arnot's fixed\ngaze.\n\nD'Arnot was reassured, but still without much hope, though he felt that\nthat face could not mask a cruel heart.\n\nWithout a word Tarzan of the Apes cut the bonds which held the\nFrenchman.  Weak from suffering and loss of blood, he would have fallen\nbut for the strong arm that caught him.\n\nHe felt himself lifted from the ground.  There was a sensation as of\nflying, and then he lost consciousness.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXII\n\nThe Search Party\n\n\nWhen dawn broke upon the little camp of Frenchmen in the heart of the\njungle it found a sad and disheartened group.\n\nAs soon as it was light enough to see their surroundings Lieutenant\nCharpentier sent men in groups of three in several directions to locate\nthe trail, and in ten minutes it was found and the expedition was\nhurrying back toward the beach.\n\nIt was slow work, for they bore the bodies of six dead men, two more\nhaving succumbed during the night, and several of those who were\nwounded required support to move even very slowly.\n\nCharpentier had decided to return to camp for reinforcements, and then\nmake an attempt to track down the natives and rescue D'Arnot.\n\nIt was late in the afternoon when the exhausted men reached the\nclearing by the beach, but for two of them the return brought so great\na happiness that all their suffering and heartbreaking grief was\nforgotten on the instant.\n\nAs the little party emerged from the jungle the first person that\nProfessor Porter and Cecil Clayton saw was Jane, standing by the cabin\ndoor.\n\nWith a little cry of joy and relief she ran forward to greet them,\nthrowing her arms about her father's neck and bursting into tears for\nthe first time since they had been cast upon this hideous and\nadventurous shore.\n\nProfessor Porter strove manfully to suppress his own emotions, but the\nstrain upon his nerves and weakened vitality were too much for him, and\nat length, burying his old face in the girl's shoulder, he sobbed\nquietly like a tired child.\n\nJane led him toward the cabin, and the Frenchmen turned toward the\nbeach from which several of their fellows were advancing to meet them.\n\nClayton, wishing to leave father and daughter alone, joined the sailors\nand remained talking with the officers until their boat pulled away\ntoward the cruiser whither Lieutenant Charpentier was bound to report\nthe unhappy outcome of his adventure.\n\nThen Clayton turned back slowly toward the cabin.  His heart was filled\nwith happiness.  The woman he loved was safe.\n\nHe wondered by what manner of miracle she had been spared.  To see her\nalive seemed almost unbelievable.\n\nAs he approached the cabin he saw Jane coming out.  When she saw him\nshe hurried forward to meet him.\n\n\"Jane!\" he cried, \"God has been good to us, indeed.  Tell me how you\nescaped--what form Providence took to save you for--us.\"\n\nHe had never before called her by her given name.  Forty-eight hours\nbefore it would have suffused Jane with a soft glow of pleasure to have\nheard that name from Clayton's lips--now it frightened her.\n\n\"Mr. Clayton,\" she said quietly, extending her hand, \"first let me\nthank you for your chivalrous loyalty to my dear father.  He has told\nme how noble and self-sacrificing you have been.  How can we repay you!\"\n\nClayton noticed that she did not return his familiar salutation, but he\nfelt no misgivings on that score.  She had been through so much.  This\nwas no time to force his love upon her, he quickly realized.\n\n\"I am already repaid,\" he said.  \"Just to see you and Professor Porter\nboth safe, well, and together again.  I do not think that I could much\nlonger have endured the pathos of his quiet and uncomplaining grief.\n\n\"It was the saddest experience of my life, Miss Porter; and then, added\nto it, there was my own grief--the greatest I have ever known.  But his\nwas so hopeless--his was pitiful.  It taught me that no love, not even\nthat of a man for his wife may be so deep and terrible and\nself-sacrificing as the love of a father for his daughter.\"\n\nThe girl bowed her head.  There was a question she wanted to ask, but\nit seemed almost sacrilegious in the face of the love of these two men\nand the terrible suffering they had endured while she sat laughing and\nhappy beside a godlike creature of the forest, eating delicious fruits\nand looking with eyes of love into answering eyes.\n\nBut love is a strange master, and human nature is still stranger, so\nshe asked her question.\n\n\"Where is the forest man who went to rescue you?  Why did he not\nreturn?\"\n\n\"I do not understand,\" said Clayton.  \"Whom do you mean?\"\n\n\"He who has saved each of us--who saved me from the gorilla.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" cried Clayton, in surprise.  \"It was he who rescued you?  You\nhave not told me anything of your adventure, you know.\"\n\n\"But the wood man,\" she urged.  \"Have you not seen him?  When we heard\nthe shots in the jungle, very faint and far away, he left me.  We had\njust reached the clearing, and he hurried off in the direction of the\nfighting.  I know he went to aid you.\"\n\nHer tone was almost pleading--her manner tense with suppressed emotion.\nClayton could not but notice it, and he wondered, vaguely, why she was\nso deeply moved--so anxious to know the whereabouts of this strange\ncreature.\n\nYet a feeling of apprehension of some impending sorrow haunted him, and\nin his breast, unknown to himself, was implanted the first germ of\njealousy and suspicion of the ape-man, to whom he owed his life.\n\n\"We did not see him,\" he replied quietly.  \"He did not join us.\"  And\nthen after a moment of thoughtful pause:  \"Possibly he joined his own\ntribe--the men who attacked us.\"  He did not know why he had said it,\nfor he did not believe it.\n\nThe girl looked at him wide eyed for a moment.\n\n\"No!\" she exclaimed vehemently, much too vehemently he thought.  \"It\ncould not be.  They were savages.\"\n\nClayton looked puzzled.\n\n\"He is a strange, half-savage creature of the jungle, Miss Porter.  We\nknow nothing of him.  He neither speaks nor understands any European\ntongue--and his ornaments and weapons are those of the West Coast\nsavages.\"\n\nClayton was speaking rapidly.\n\n\"There are no other human beings than savages within hundreds of miles,\nMiss Porter.  He must belong to the tribes which attacked us, or to\nsome other equally savage--he may even be a cannibal.\"\n\nJane blanched.\n\n\"I will not believe it,\" she half whispered.  \"It is not true.  You\nshall see,\" she said, addressing Clayton, \"that he will come back and\nthat he will prove that you are wrong.  You do not know him as I do.  I\ntell you that he is a gentleman.\"\n\nClayton was a generous and chivalrous man, but something in the girl's\nbreathless defense of the forest man stirred him to unreasoning\njealousy, so that for the instant he forgot all that they owed to this\nwild demi-god, and he answered her with a half sneer upon his lip.\n\n\"Possibly you are right, Miss Porter,\" he said, \"but I do not think\nthat any of us need worry about our carrion-eating acquaintance.  The\nchances are that he is some half-demented castaway who will forget us\nmore quickly, but no more surely, than we shall forget him.  He is only\na beast of the jungle, Miss Porter.\"\n\nThe girl did not answer, but she felt her heart shrivel within her.\n\nShe knew that Clayton spoke merely what he thought, and for the first\ntime she began to analyze the structure which supported her newfound\nlove, and to subject its object to a critical examination.\n\nSlowly she turned and walked back to the cabin.  She tried to imagine\nher wood-god by her side in the saloon of an ocean liner.  She saw him\neating with his hands, tearing his food like a beast of prey, and\nwiping his greasy fingers upon his thighs.  She shuddered.\n\nShe saw him as she introduced him to her friends--uncouth,\nilliterate--a boor; and the girl winced.\n\nShe had reached her room now, and as she sat upon the edge of her bed\nof ferns and grasses, with one hand resting upon her rising and falling\nbosom, she felt the hard outlines of the man's locket.\n\nShe drew it out, holding it in the palm of her hand for a moment with\ntear-blurred eyes bent upon it.  Then she raised it to her lips, and\ncrushing it there buried her face in the soft ferns, sobbing.\n\n\"Beast?\" she murmured.  \"Then God make me a beast; for, man or beast, I\nam yours.\"\n\nShe did not see Clayton again that day.  Esmeralda brought her supper\nto her, and she sent word to her father that she was suffering from the\nreaction following her adventure.\n\nThe next morning Clayton left early with the relief expedition in\nsearch of Lieutenant D'Arnot.  There were two hundred armed men this\ntime, with ten officers and two surgeons, and provisions for a week.\n\nThey carried bedding and hammocks, the latter for transporting their\nsick and wounded.\n\nIt was a determined and angry company--a punitive expedition as well as\none of relief.  They reached the site of the skirmish of the previous\nexpedition shortly after noon, for they were now traveling a known\ntrail and no time was lost in exploring.\n\nFrom there on the elephant-track led straight to Mbonga's village.  It\nwas but two o'clock when the head of the column halted upon the edge of\nthe clearing.\n\nLieutenant Charpentier, who was in command, immediately sent a portion\nof his force through the jungle to the opposite side of the village.\nAnother detachment was dispatched to a point before the village gate,\nwhile he remained with the balance upon the south side of the clearing.\n\nIt was arranged that the party which was to take its position to the\nnorth, and which would be the last to gain its station should commence\nthe assault, and that their opening volley should be the signal for a\nconcerted rush from all sides in an attempt to carry the village by\nstorm at the first charge.\n\nFor half an hour the men with Lieutenant Charpentier crouched in the\ndense foliage of the jungle, waiting the signal.  To them it seemed\nlike hours.  They could see natives in the fields, and others moving in\nand out of the village gate.\n\nAt length the signal came--a sharp rattle of musketry, and like one\nman, an answering volley tore from the jungle to the west and to the\nsouth.\n\nThe natives in the field dropped their implements and broke madly for\nthe palisade.  The French bullets mowed them down, and the French\nsailors bounded over their prostrate bodies straight for the village\ngate.\n\nSo sudden and unexpected the assault had been that the whites reached\nthe gates before the frightened natives could bar them, and in another\nminute the village street was filled with armed men fighting hand to\nhand in an inextricable tangle.\n\nFor a few moments the blacks held their ground within the entrance to\nthe street, but the revolvers, rifles and cutlasses of the Frenchmen\ncrumpled the native spearmen and struck down the black archers with\ntheir bows halfdrawn.\n\nSoon the battle turned to a wild rout, and then to a grim massacre; for\nthe French sailors had seen bits of D'Arnot's uniform upon several of\nthe black warriors who opposed them.\n\nThey spared the children and those of the women whom they were not\nforced to kill in self-defense, but when at length they stopped,\npanting, blood covered and sweating, it was because there lived to\noppose them no single warrior of all the savage village of Mbonga.\n\nCarefully they ransacked every hut and corner of the village, but no\nsign of D'Arnot could they find.  They questioned the prisoners by\nsigns, and finally one of the sailors who had served in the French\nCongo found that he could make them understand the bastard tongue that\npasses for language between the whites and the more degraded tribes of\nthe coast, but even then they could learn nothing definite regarding\nthe fate of D'Arnot.\n\nOnly excited gestures and expressions of fear could they obtain in\nresponse to their inquiries concerning their fellow; and at last they\nbecame convinced that these were but evidences of the guilt of these\ndemons who had slaughtered and eaten their comrade two nights before.\n\nAt length all hope left them, and they prepared to camp for the night\nwithin the village.  The prisoners were herded into three huts where\nthey were heavily guarded.  Sentries were posted at the barred gates,\nand finally the village was wrapped in the silence of slumber, except\nfor the wailing of the native women for their dead.\n\n\nThe next morning they set out upon the return march.  Their original\nintention had been to burn the village, but this idea was abandoned and\nthe prisoners were left behind, weeping and moaning, but with roofs to\ncover them and a palisade for refuge from the beasts of the jungle.\n\nSlowly the expedition retraced its steps of the preceding day.  Ten\nloaded hammocks retarded its pace.  In eight of them lay the more\nseriously wounded, while two swung beneath the weight of the dead.\n\nClayton and Lieutenant Charpentier brought up the rear of the column;\nthe Englishman silent in respect for the other's grief, for D'Arnot and\nCharpentier had been inseparable friends since boyhood.\n\nClayton could not but realize that the Frenchman felt his grief the\nmore keenly because D'Arnot's sacrifice had been so futile, since Jane\nhad been rescued before D'Arnot had fallen into the hands of the\nsavages, and again because the service in which he had lost his life\nhad been outside his duty and for strangers and aliens; but when he\nspoke of it to Lieutenant Charpentier, the latter shook his head.\n\n\"No, Monsieur,\" he said, \"D'Arnot would have chosen to die thus.  I\nonly grieve that I could not have died for him, or at least with him.\nI wish that you could have known him better, Monsieur.  He was indeed\nan officer and a gentleman--a title conferred on many, but deserved by\nso few.\n\n\"He did not die futilely, for his death in the cause of a strange\nAmerican girl will make us, his comrades, face our ends the more\nbravely, however they may come to us.\"\n\nClayton did not reply, but within him rose a new respect for Frenchmen\nwhich remained undimmed ever after.\n\nIt was quite late when they reached the cabin by the beach.  A single\nshot before they emerged from the jungle had announced to those in camp\nas well as on the ship that the expedition had been too late--for it\nhad been prearranged that when they came within a mile or two of camp\none shot was to be fired to denote failure, or three for success, while\ntwo would have indicated that they had found no sign of either D'Arnot\nor his black captors.\n\nSo it was a solemn party that awaited their coming, and few words were\nspoken as the dead and wounded men were tenderly placed in boats and\nrowed silently toward the cruiser.\n\nClayton, exhausted from his five days of laborious marching through the\njungle and from the effects of his two battles with the blacks, turned\ntoward the cabin to seek a mouthful of food and then the comparative\nease of his bed of grasses after two nights in the jungle.\n\nBy the cabin door stood Jane.\n\n\"The poor lieutenant?\" she asked.  \"Did you find no trace of him?\"\n\n\"We were too late, Miss Porter,\" he replied sadly.\n\n\"Tell me.  What had happened?\" she asked.\n\n\"I cannot, Miss Porter, it is too horrible.\"\n\n\"You do not mean that they had tortured him?\" she whispered.\n\n\"We do not know what they did to him BEFORE they killed him,\" he\nanswered, his face drawn with fatigue and the sorrow he felt for poor\nD'Arnot and he emphasized the word before.\n\n\"BEFORE they killed him!  What do you mean?  They are not--?  They are\nnot--?\"\n\nShe was thinking of what Clayton had said of the forest man's probable\nrelationship to this tribe and she could not frame the awful word.\n\n\"Yes, Miss Porter, they were--cannibals,\" he said, almost bitterly, for\nto him too had suddenly come the thought of the forest man, and the\nstrange, unaccountable jealousy he had felt two days before swept over\nhim once more.\n\nAnd then in sudden brutality that was as unlike Clayton as courteous\nconsideration is unlike an ape, he blurted out:\n\n\"When your forest god left you he was doubtless hurrying to the feast.\"\n\nHe was sorry ere the words were spoken though he did not know how\ncruelly they had cut the girl.  His regret was for his baseless\ndisloyalty to one who had saved the lives of every member of his party,\nand offered harm to none.\n\nThe girl's head went high.\n\n\"There could be but one suitable reply to your assertion, Mr. Clayton,\"\nshe said icily, \"and I regret that I am not a man, that I might make\nit.\"  She turned quickly and entered the cabin.\n\nClayton was an Englishman, so the girl had passed quite out of sight\nbefore he deduced what reply a man would have made.\n\n\"Upon my word,\" he said ruefully, \"she called me a liar.  And I fancy I\njolly well deserved it,\" he added thoughtfully.  \"Clayton, my boy, I\nknow you are tired out and unstrung, but that's no reason why you\nshould make an ass of yourself.  You'd better go to bed.\"\n\nBut before he did so he called gently to Jane upon the opposite side of\nthe sailcloth partition, for he wished to apologize, but he might as\nwell have addressed the Sphinx.  Then he wrote upon a piece of paper\nand shoved it beneath the partition.\n\nJane saw the little note and ignored it, for she was very angry and\nhurt and mortified, but--she was a woman, and so eventually she picked\nit up and read it.\n\nMY DEAR MISS PORTER:\n\nI had no reason to insinuate what I did.  My only excuse is that my\nnerves must be unstrung--which is no excuse at all.\n\nPlease try and think that I did not say it.  I am very sorry.  I would\nnot have hurt YOU, above all others in the world.  Say that you forgive\nme.\n\n              WM. CECIL CLAYTON.\n\n\n\"He did think it or he never would have said it,\" reasoned the girl,\n\"but it cannot be true--oh, I know it is not true!\"\n\nOne sentence in the letter frightened her:  \"I would not have hurt YOU\nabove all others in the world.\"\n\nA week ago that sentence would have filled her with delight, now it\ndepressed her.\n\nShe wished she had never met Clayton.  She was sorry that she had ever\nseen the forest god.  No, she was glad.  And there was that other note\nshe had found in the grass before the cabin the day after her return\nfrom the jungle, the love note signed by Tarzan of the Apes.\n\nWho could be this new suitor?  If he were another of the wild denizens\nof this terrible forest what might he not do to claim her?\n\n\"Esmeralda!  Wake up,\" she cried.\n\n\"You make me so irritable, sleeping there peacefully when you know\nperfectly well that the world is filled with sorrow.\"\n\n\"Gaberelle!\" screamed Esmeralda, sitting up.  \"What is it now?  A\nhipponocerous?  Where is he, Miss Jane?\"\n\n\"Nonsense, Esmeralda, there is nothing.  Go back to sleep.  You are bad\nenough asleep, but you are infinitely worse awake.\"\n\n\"Yes honey, but what's the matter with you, precious?  You acts sort of\ndisgranulated this evening.\"\n\n\"Oh, Esmeralda, I'm just plain ugly to-night,\" said the girl.  \"Don't\npay any attention to me--that's a dear.\"\n\n\"Yes, honey; now you go right to sleep.  Your nerves are all on edge.\nWhat with all these ripotamuses and man eating geniuses that Mister\nPhilander been telling about--Lord, it ain't no wonder we all get\nnervous prosecution.\"\n\nJane crossed the little room, laughing, and kissing the faithful woman,\nbid Esmeralda good night.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXIII\n\nBrother Men.\n\n\nWhen D'Arnot regained consciousness, he found himself lying upon a bed\nof soft ferns and grasses beneath a little \"A\" shaped shelter of boughs.\n\nAt his feet an opening looked out upon a green sward, and at a little\ndistance beyond was the dense wall of jungle and forest.\n\nHe was very lame and sore and weak, and as full consciousness returned\nhe felt the sharp torture of many cruel wounds and the dull aching of\nevery bone and muscle in his body as a result of the hideous beating he\nhad received.\n\nEven the turning of his head caused him such excruciating agony that he\nlay still with closed eyes for a long time.\n\nHe tried to piece out the details of his adventure prior to the time he\nlost consciousness to see if they would explain his present\nwhereabouts--he wondered if he were among friends or foes.\n\nAt length he recollected the whole hideous scene at the stake, and\nfinally recalled the strange white figure in whose arms he had sunk\ninto oblivion.\n\nD'Arnot wondered what fate lay in store for him now.  He could neither\nsee nor hear any signs of life about him.\n\nThe incessant hum of the jungle--the rustling of millions of\nleaves--the buzz of insects--the voices of the birds and monkeys seemed\nblended into a strangely soothing purr, as though he lay apart, far\nfrom the myriad life whose sounds came to him only as a blurred echo.\n\nAt length he fell into a quiet slumber, nor did he awake again until\nafternoon.\n\nOnce more he experienced the strange sense of utter bewilderment that\nhad marked his earlier awakening, but soon he recalled the recent past,\nand looking through the opening at his feet he saw the figure of a man\nsquatting on his haunches.\n\nThe broad, muscular back was turned toward him, but, tanned though it\nwas, D'Arnot saw that it was the back of a white man, and he thanked\nGod.\n\nThe Frenchman called faintly.  The man turned, and rising, came toward\nthe shelter.  His face was very handsome--the handsomest, thought\nD'Arnot, that he had ever seen.\n\nStooping, he crawled into the shelter beside the wounded officer, and\nplaced a cool hand upon his forehead.\n\nD'Arnot spoke to him in French, but the man only shook his head--sadly,\nit seemed to the Frenchman.\n\nThen D'Arnot tried English, but still the man shook his head.  Italian,\nSpanish and German brought similar discouragement.\n\nD'Arnot knew a few words of Norwegian, Russian, Greek, and also had a\nsmattering of the language of one of the West Coast negro tribes--the\nman denied them all.\n\nAfter examining D'Arnot's wounds the man left the shelter and\ndisappeared.  In half an hour he was back with fruit and a hollow\ngourd-like vegetable filled with water.\n\nD'Arnot drank and ate a little.  He was surprised that he had no fever.\nAgain he tried to converse with his strange nurse, but the attempt was\nuseless.\n\nSuddenly the man hastened from the shelter only to return a few minutes\nlater with several pieces of bark and--wonder of wonders--a lead pencil.\n\nSquatting beside D'Arnot he wrote for a minute on the smooth inner\nsurface of the bark; then he handed it to the Frenchman.\n\nD'Arnot was astonished to see, in plain print-like characters, a\nmessage in English:\n\n\nI am Tarzan of the Apes.  Who are you?  Can you read this language?\n\n\nD'Arnot seized the pencil--then he stopped.  This strange man wrote\nEnglish--evidently he was an Englishman.\n\n\"Yes,\" said D'Arnot, \"I read English.  I speak it also.  Now we may\ntalk.  First let me thank you for all that you have done for me.\"\n\nThe man only shook his head and pointed to the pencil and the bark.\n\n\"MON DIEU!\" cried D'Arnot.  \"If you are English why is it then that you\ncannot speak English?\"\n\nAnd then in a flash it came to him--the man was a mute, possibly a deaf\nmute.\n\nSo D'Arnot wrote a message on the bark, in English.\n\n\nI am Paul d'Arnot, Lieutenant in the navy of France.  I thank you for\nwhat you have done for me.  You have saved my life, and all that I have\nis yours.  May I ask how it is that one who writes English does not\nspeak it?\n\n\nTarzan's reply filled D'Arnot with still greater wonder:\n\n\nI speak only the language of my tribe--the great apes who were\nKerchak's; and a little of the languages of Tantor, the elephant, and\nNuma, the lion, and of the other folks of the jungle I understand.\nWith a human being I have never spoken, except once with Jane Porter,\nby signs.  This is the first time I have spoken with another of my kind\nthrough written words.\n\n\nD'Arnot was mystified.  It seemed incredible that there lived upon\nearth a full-grown man who had never spoken with a fellow man, and\nstill more preposterous that such a one could read and write.\n\nHe looked again at Tarzan's message--\"except once, with Jane Porter.\"\nThat was the American girl who had been carried into the jungle by a\ngorilla.\n\nA sudden light commenced to dawn on D'Arnot--this then was the\n\"gorilla.\"  He seized the pencil and wrote:\n\n\nWhere is Jane Porter?\n\n\nAnd Tarzan replied, below:\n\n\nBack with her people in the cabin of Tarzan of the Apes.\n\n\nShe is not dead then?  Where was she?  What happened to her?\n\n\nShe is not dead.  She was taken by Terkoz to be his wife; but Tarzan of\nthe Apes took her away from Terkoz and killed him before he could harm\nher.\n\nNone in all the jungle may face Tarzan of the Apes in battle, and live.\nI am Tarzan of the Apes--mighty fighter.\n\nD'Arnot wrote:\n\n\nI am glad she is safe.  It pains me to write, I will rest a while.\n\n\nAnd then Tarzan:\n\n\nYes, rest.  When you are well I shall take you back to your people.\n\n\nFor many days D'Arnot lay upon his bed of soft ferns.  The second day a\nfever had come and D'Arnot thought that it meant infection and he knew\nthat he would die.\n\nAn idea came to him.  He wondered why he had not thought of it before.\n\nHe called Tarzan and indicated by signs that he would write, and when\nTarzan had fetched the bark and pencil, D'Arnot wrote:\n\n\nCan you go to my people and lead them here?  I will write a message\nthat you may take to them, and they will follow you.\n\n\nTarzan shook his head and taking the bark, wrote:\n\n\nI had thought of that--the first day; but I dared not.  The great apes\ncome often to this spot, and if they found you here, wounded and alone,\nthey would kill you.\n\n\nD'Arnot turned on his side and closed his eyes.  He did not wish to\ndie; but he felt that he was going, for the fever was mounting higher\nand higher.  That night he lost consciousness.\n\nFor three days he was in delirium, and Tarzan sat beside him and bathed\nhis head and hands and washed his wounds.\n\nOn the fourth day the fever broke as suddenly as it had come, but it\nleft D'Arnot a shadow of his former self, and very weak.  Tarzan had to\nlift him that he might drink from the gourd.\n\nThe fever had not been the result of infection, as D'Arnot had thought,\nbut one of those that commonly attack whites in the jungles of Africa,\nand either kill or leave them as suddenly as D'Arnot's had left him.\n\nTwo days later, D'Arnot was tottering about the amphitheater, Tarzan's\nstrong arm about him to keep him from falling.\n\nThey sat beneath the shade of a great tree, and Tarzan found some\nsmooth bark that they might converse.\n\nD'Arnot wrote the first message:\n\n\nWhat can I do to repay you for all that you have done for me?\n\n\nAnd Tarzan, in reply:\n\n\nTeach me to speak the language of men.\n\n\nAnd so D'Arnot commenced at once, pointing out familiar objects and\nrepeating their names in French, for he thought that it would be easier\nto teach this man his own language, since he understood it himself best\nof all.\n\nIt meant nothing to Tarzan, of course, for he could not tell one\nlanguage from another, so when he pointed to the word man which he had\nprinted upon a piece of bark he learned from D'Arnot that it was\npronounced HOMME, and in the same way he was taught to pronounce ape,\nSINGE and tree, ARBRE.\n\nHe was a most eager student, and in two more days had mastered so much\nFrench that he could speak little sentences such as:  \"That is a tree,\"\n\"this is grass,\" \"I am hungry,\" and the like, but D'Arnot found that it\nwas difficult to teach him the French construction upon a foundation of\nEnglish.\n\nThe Frenchman wrote little lessons for him in English and had Tarzan\nrepeat them in French, but as a literal translation was usually very\npoor French Tarzan was often confused.\n\nD'Arnot realized now that he had made a mistake, but it seemed too late\nto go back and do it all over again and force Tarzan to unlearn all\nthat he had learned, especially as they were rapidly approaching a\npoint where they would be able to converse.\n\nOn the third day after the fever broke Tarzan wrote a message asking\nD'Arnot if he felt strong enough to be carried back to the cabin.\nTarzan was as anxious to go as D'Arnot, for he longed to see Jane again.\n\nIt had been hard for him to remain with the Frenchman all these days\nfor that very reason, and that he had unselfishly done so spoke more\nglowingly of his nobility of character than even did his rescuing the\nFrench officer from Mbonga's clutches.\n\nD'Arnot, only too willing to attempt the journey, wrote:\n\n\nBut you cannot carry me all the distance through this tangled forest.\n\n\nTarzan laughed.\n\n\"MAIS OUI,\" he said, and D'Arnot laughed aloud to hear the phrase that\nhe used so often glide from Tarzan's tongue.\n\nSo they set out, D'Arnot marveling as had Clayton and Jane at the\nwondrous strength and agility of the apeman.\n\nMid-afternoon brought them to the clearing, and as Tarzan dropped to\nearth from the branches of the last tree his heart leaped and bounded\nagainst his ribs in anticipation of seeing Jane so soon again.\n\nNo one was in sight outside the cabin, and D'Arnot was perplexed to\nnote that neither the cruiser nor the Arrow was at anchor in the bay.\n\nAn atmosphere of loneliness pervaded the spot, which caught suddenly at\nboth men as they strode toward the cabin.\n\nNeither spoke, yet both knew before they opened the closed door what\nthey would find beyond.\n\nTarzan lifted the latch and pushed the great door in upon its wooden\nhinges.  It was as they had feared.  The cabin was deserted.\n\nThe men turned and looked at one another.  D'Arnot knew that his people\nthought him dead; but Tarzan thought only of the woman who had kissed\nhim in love and now had fled from him while he was serving one of her\npeople.\n\nA great bitterness rose in his heart.  He would go away, far into the\njungle and join his tribe.  Never would he see one of his own kind\nagain, nor could he bear the thought of returning to the cabin.  He\nwould leave that forever behind him with the great hopes he had nursed\nthere of finding his own race and becoming a man among men.\n\nAnd the Frenchman?  D'Arnot?  What of him?  He could get along as\nTarzan had.  Tarzan did not want to see him more.  He wanted to get\naway from everything that might remind him of Jane.\n\nAs Tarzan stood upon the threshold brooding, D'Arnot had entered the\ncabin.  Many comforts he saw that had been left behind.  He recognized\nnumerous articles from the cruiser--a camp oven, some kitchen utensils,\na rifle and many rounds of ammunition, canned foods, blankets, two\nchairs and a cot--and several books and periodicals, mostly American.\n\n\"They must intend returning,\" thought D'Arnot.\n\nHe walked over to the table that John Clayton had built so many years\nbefore to serve as a desk, and on it he saw two notes addressed to\nTarzan of the Apes.\n\nOne was in a strong masculine hand and was unsealed.  The other, in a\nwoman's hand, was sealed.\n\n\"Here are two messages for you, Tarzan of the Apes,\" cried D'Arnot,\nturning toward the door; but his companion was not there.\n\nD'Arnot walked to the door and looked out.  Tarzan was nowhere in\nsight.  He called aloud but there was no response.\n\n\"MON DIEU!\" exclaimed D'Arnot, \"he has left me.  I feel it.  He has\ngone back into his jungle and left me here alone.\"\n\nAnd then he remembered the look on Tarzan's face when they had\ndiscovered that the cabin was empty--such a look as the hunter sees in\nthe eyes of the wounded deer he has wantonly brought down.\n\nThe man had been hard hit--D'Arnot realized it now--but why?  He could\nnot understand.\n\nThe Frenchman looked about him.  The loneliness and the horror of the\nplace commenced to get on his nerves--already weakened by the ordeal of\nsuffering and sickness he had passed through.\n\nTo be left here alone beside this awful jungle--never to hear a human\nvoice or see a human face--in constant dread of savage beasts and more\nterribly savage men--a prey to solitude and hopelessness.  It was awful.\n\nAnd far to the east Tarzan of the Apes was speeding through the middle\nterrace back to his tribe.  Never had he traveled with such reckless\nspeed.  He felt that he was running away from himself--that by hurtling\nthrough the forest like a frightened squirrel he was escaping from his\nown thoughts.  But no matter how fast he went he found them always with\nhim.\n\nHe passed above the sinuous body of Sabor, the lioness, going in the\nopposite direction--toward the cabin, thought Tarzan.\n\nWhat could D'Arnot do against Sabor--or if Bolgani, the gorilla, should\ncome upon him--or Numa, the lion, or cruel Sheeta?\n\nTarzan paused in his flight.\n\n\"What are you, Tarzan?\" he asked aloud.  \"An ape or a man?\"\n\n\"If you are an ape you will do as the apes would do--leave one of your\nkind to die in the jungle if it suited your whim to go elsewhere.\n\n\"If you are a man, you will return to protect your kind.  You will not\nrun away from one of your own people, because one of them has run away\nfrom you.\"\n\n\nD'Arnot closed the cabin door.  He was very nervous.  Even brave men,\nand D'Arnot was a brave man, are sometimes frightened by solitude.\n\nHe loaded one of the rifles and placed it within easy reach.  Then he\nwent to the desk and took up the unsealed letter addressed to Tarzan.\n\nPossibly it contained word that his people had but left the beach\ntemporarily.  He felt that it would be no breach of ethics to read this\nletter, so he took the enclosure from the envelope and read:\n\nTO TARZAN OF THE APES:\n\n\nWe thank you for the use of your cabin, and are sorry that you did not\npermit us the pleasure of seeing and thanking you in person.\n\nWe have harmed nothing, but have left many things for you which may add\nto your comfort and safety here in your lonely home.\n\nIf you know the strange white man who saved our lives so many times,\nand brought us food, and if you can converse with him, thank him, also,\nfor his kindness.\n\nWe sail within the hour, never to return; but we wish you and that\nother jungle friend to know that we shall always thank you for what you\ndid for strangers on your shore, and that we should have done\ninfinitely more to reward you both had you given us the opportunity.\n\n              Very respectfully,\n              WM. CECIL CLAYTON.\n\n\n\"'Never to return,'\" muttered D'Arnot, and threw himself face downward\nupon the cot.\n\nAn hour later he started up listening.  Something was at the door\ntrying to enter.\n\nD'Arnot reached for the loaded rifle and placed it to his shoulder.\n\nDusk was falling, and the interior of the cabin was very dark; but the\nman could see the latch moving from its place.\n\nHe felt his hair rising upon his scalp.\n\nGently the door opened until a thin crack showed something standing\njust beyond.\n\nD'Arnot sighted along the blue barrel at the crack of the door--and\nthen he pulled the trigger.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXIV\n\nLost Treasure\n\n\nWhen the expedition returned, following their fruitless endeavor to\nsuccor D'Arnot, Captain Dufranne was anxious to steam away as quickly\nas possible, and all save Jane had acquiesced.\n\n\"No,\" she said, determinedly, \"I shall not go, nor should you, for\nthere are two friends in that jungle who will come out of it some day\nexpecting to find us awaiting them.\n\n\"Your officer, Captain Dufranne, is one of them, and the forest man who\nhas saved the lives of every member of my father's party is the other.\n\n\"He left me at the edge of the jungle two days ago to hasten to the aid\nof my father and Mr. Clayton, as he thought, and he has stayed to\nrescue Lieutenant D'Arnot; of that you may be sure.\n\n\"Had he been too late to be of service to the lieutenant he would have\nbeen back before now--the fact that he is not back is sufficient proof\nto me that he is delayed because Lieutenant D'Arnot is wounded, or he\nhas had to follow his captors further than the village which your\nsailors attacked.\"\n\n\"But poor D'Arnot's uniform and all his belongings were found in that\nvillage, Miss Porter,\" argued the captain, \"and the natives showed\ngreat excitement when questioned as to the white man's fate.\"\n\n\"Yes, Captain, but they did not admit that he was dead and as for his\nclothes and accouterments being in their possession--why more civilized\npeoples than these poor savage negroes strip their prisoners of every\narticle of value whether they intend killing them or not.\n\n\"Even the soldiers of my own dear South looted not only the living but\nthe dead.  It is strong circumstantial evidence, I will admit, but it\nis not positive proof.\"\n\n\"Possibly your forest man, himself was captured or killed by the\nsavages,\" suggested Captain Dufranne.\n\nThe girl laughed.\n\n\"You do not know him,\" she replied, a little thrill of pride setting\nher nerves a-tingle at the thought that she spoke of her own.\n\n\"I admit that he would be worth waiting for, this superman of yours,\"\nlaughed the captain.  \"I most certainly should like to see him.\"\n\n\"Then wait for him, my dear captain,\" urged the girl, \"for I intend\ndoing so.\"\n\nThe Frenchman would have been a very much surprised man could he have\ninterpreted the true meaning of the girl's words.\n\nThey had been walking from the beach toward the cabin as they talked,\nand now they joined a little group sitting on camp stools in the shade\nof a great tree beside the cabin.\n\nProfessor Porter was there, and Mr. Philander and Clayton, with\nLieutenant Charpentier and two of his brother officers, while Esmeralda\nhovered in the background, ever and anon venturing opinions and\ncomments with the freedom of an old and much-indulged family servant.\n\nThe officers arose and saluted as their superior approached, and\nClayton surrendered his camp stool to Jane.\n\n\"We were just discussing poor Paul's fate,\" said Captain Dufranne.\n\"Miss Porter insists that we have no absolute proof of his death--nor\nhave we.  And on the other hand she maintains that the continued\nabsence of your omnipotent jungle friend indicates that D'Arnot is\nstill in need of his services, either because he is wounded, or still\nis a prisoner in a more distant native village.\"\n\n\"It has been suggested,\" ventured Lieutenant Charpentier, \"that the\nwild man may have been a member of the tribe of blacks who attacked our\nparty--that he was hastening to aid THEM--his own people.\"\n\nJane shot a quick glance at Clayton.\n\n\"It seems vastly more reasonable,\" said Professor Porter.\n\n\"I do not agree with you,\" objected Mr. Philander.  \"He had ample\nopportunity to harm us himself, or to lead his people against us.\nInstead, during our long residence here, he has been uniformly\nconsistent in his role of protector and provider.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" interjected Clayton, \"yet we must not overlook the fact\nthat except for himself the only human beings within hundreds of miles\nare savage cannibals.  He was armed precisely as are they, which\nindicates that he has maintained relations of some nature with them,\nand the fact that he is but one against possibly thousands suggests\nthat these relations could scarcely have been other than friendly.\"\n\n\"It seems improbable then that he is not connected with them,\" remarked\nthe captain; \"possibly a member of this tribe.\"\n\n\"Otherwise,\" added another of the officers, \"how could he have lived a\nsufficient length of time among the savage denizens of the jungle,\nbrute and human, to have become proficient in woodcraft, or in the use\nof African weapons.\"\n\n\"You are judging him according to your own standards, gentlemen,\" said\nJane.  \"An ordinary white man such as any of you--pardon me, I did not\nmean just that--rather, a white man above the ordinary in physique and\nintelligence could never, I grant you, have lived a year alone and\nnaked in this tropical jungle; but this man not only surpasses the\naverage white man in strength and agility, but as far transcends our\ntrained athletes and 'strong men' as they surpass a day-old babe; and\nhis courage and ferocity in battle are those of the wild beast.\"\n\n\"He has certainly won a loyal champion, Miss Porter,\" said Captain\nDufranne, laughing.  \"I am sure that there be none of us here but would\nwillingly face death a hundred times in its most terrifying forms to\ndeserve the tributes of one even half so loyal--or so beautiful.\"\n\n\"You would not wonder that I defend him,\" said the girl, \"could you\nhave seen him as I saw him, battling in my behalf with that huge hairy\nbrute.\n\n\"Could you have seen him charge the monster as a bull might charge a\ngrizzly--absolutely without sign of fear or hesitation--you would have\nbelieved him more than human.\n\n\"Could you have seen those mighty muscles knotting under the brown\nskin--could you have seen them force back those awful fangs--you too\nwould have thought him invincible.\n\n\"And could you have seen the chivalrous treatment which he accorded a\nstrange girl of a strange race, you would feel the same absolute\nconfidence in him that I feel.\"\n\n\"You have won your suit, my fair pleader,\" cried the captain.  \"This\ncourt finds the defendant not guilty, and the cruiser shall wait a few\ndays longer that he may have an opportunity to come and thank the\ndivine Portia.\"\n\n\"For the Lord's sake honey,\" cried Esmeralda.  \"You all don't mean to\ntell ME that you're going to stay right here in this here land of\ncarnivable animals when you all got the opportunity to escapade on that\nboat?  Don't you tell me THAT, honey.\"\n\n\"Why, Esmeralda!  You should be ashamed of yourself,\" cried Jane.  \"Is\nthis any way to show your gratitude to the man who saved your life\ntwice?\"\n\n\"Well, Miss Jane, that's all jest as you say; but that there forest man\nnever did save us to stay here.  He done save us so we all could get\nAWAY from here.  I expect he be mighty peevish when he find we ain't\ngot no more sense than to stay right here after he done give us the\nchance to get away.\n\n\"I hoped I'd never have to sleep in this here geological garden another\nnight and listen to all them lonesome noises that come out of that\njumble after dark.\"\n\n\"I don't blame you a bit, Esmeralda,\" said Clayton, \"and you certainly\ndid hit it off right when you called them 'lonesome' noises.  I never\nhave been able to find the right word for them but that's it, don't you\nknow, lonesome noises.\"\n\n\"You and Esmeralda had better go and live on the cruiser,\" said Jane,\nin fine scorn.  \"What would you think if you HAD to live all of your\nlife in that jungle as our forest man has done?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I'd be a blooming bounder as a wild man,\" laughed Clayton,\nruefully.  \"Those noises at night make the hair on my head bristle.  I\nsuppose that I should be ashamed to admit it, but it's the truth.\"\n\n\"I don't know about that,\" said Lieutenant Charpentier.  \"I never\nthought much about fear and that sort of thing--never tried to\ndetermine whether I was a coward or brave man; but the other night as\nwe lay in the jungle there after poor D'Arnot was taken, and those\njungle noises rose and fell around us I began to think that I was a\ncoward indeed.  It was not the roaring and growling of the big beasts\nthat affected me so much as it was the stealthy noises--the ones that\nyou heard suddenly close by and then listened vainly for a repetition\nof--the unaccountable sounds as of a great body moving almost\nnoiselessly, and the knowledge that you didn't KNOW how close it was,\nor whether it were creeping closer after you ceased to hear it?  It was\nthose noises--and the eyes.\n\n\"MON DIEU!  I shall see them in the dark forever--the eyes that you\nsee, and those that you don't see, but feel--ah, they are the worst.\"\n\nAll were silent for a moment, and then Jane spoke.\n\n\"And he is out there,\" she said, in an awe-hushed whisper.  \"Those eyes\nwill be glaring at him to-night, and at your comrade Lieutenant\nD'Arnot.  Can you leave them, gentlemen, without at least rendering\nthem the passive succor which remaining here a few days longer might\ninsure them?\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, child,\" said Professor Porter.  \"Captain Dufranne is willing\nto remain, and for my part I am perfectly willing, perfectly\nwilling--as I always have been to humor your childish whims.\"\n\n\"We can utilize the morrow in recovering the chest, Professor,\"\nsuggested Mr. Philander.\n\n\"Quite so, quite so, Mr. Philander, I had almost forgotten the\ntreasure,\" exclaimed Professor Porter.  \"Possibly we can borrow some\nmen from Captain Dufranne to assist us, and one of the prisoners to\npoint out the location of the chest.\"\n\n\"Most assuredly, my dear Professor, we are all yours to command,\" said\nthe captain.\n\nAnd so it was arranged that on the next day Lieutenant Charpentier was\nto take a detail of ten men, and one of the mutineers of the Arrow as a\nguide, and unearth the treasure; and that the cruiser would remain for\na full week in the little harbor.  At the end of that time it was to be\nassumed that D'Arnot was truly dead, and that the forest man would not\nreturn while they remained.  Then the two vessels were to leave with\nall the party.\n\nProfessor Porter did not accompany the treasure-seekers on the\nfollowing day, but when he saw them returning empty-handed toward noon,\nhe hastened forward to meet them--his usual preoccupied indifference\nentirely vanished, and in its place a nervous and excited manner.\n\n\"Where is the treasure?\" he cried to Clayton, while yet a hundred feet\nseparated them.\n\nClayton shook his head.\n\n\"Gone,\" he said, as he neared the professor.\n\n\"Gone!  It cannot be.  Who could have taken it?\" cried Professor Porter.\n\n\"God only knows, Professor,\" replied Clayton.  \"We might have thought\nthe fellow who guided us was lying about the location, but his surprise\nand consternation on finding no chest beneath the body of the murdered\nSnipes were too real to be feigned.  And then our spades showed us that\nSOMETHING had been buried beneath the corpse, for a hole had been there\nand it had been filled with loose earth.\"\n\n\"But who could have taken it?\" repeated Professor Porter.\n\n\"Suspicion might naturally fall on the men of the cruiser,\" said\nLieutenant Charpentier, \"but for the fact that sub-lieutenant Janviers\nhere assures me that no men have had shore leave--that none has been on\nshore since we anchored here except under command of an officer.  I do\nnot know that you would suspect our men, but I am glad that there is\nnow no chance for suspicion to fall on them,\" he concluded.\n\n\"It would never have occurred to me to suspect the men to whom we owe\nso much,\" replied Professor Porter, graciously.  \"I would as soon\nsuspect my dear Clayton here, or Mr. Philander.\"\n\nThe Frenchmen smiled, both officers and sailors.  It was plain to see\nthat a burden had been lifted from their minds.\n\n\"The treasure has been gone for some time,\" continued Clayton.  \"In\nfact the body fell apart as we lifted it, which indicates that whoever\nremoved the treasure did so while the corpse was still fresh, for it\nwas intact when we first uncovered it.\"\n\n\"There must have been several in the party,\" said Jane, who had joined\nthem.  \"You remember that it took four men to carry it.\"\n\n\"By jove!\" cried Clayton.  \"That's right.  It must have been done by a\nparty of blacks.  Probably one of them saw the men bury the chest and\nthen returned immediately after with a party of his friends, and\ncarried it off.\"\n\n\"Speculation is futile,\" said Professor Porter sadly.  \"The chest is\ngone.  We shall never see it again, nor the treasure that was in it.\"\n\nOnly Jane knew what the loss meant to her father, and none there knew\nwhat it meant to her.\n\nSix days later Captain Dufranne announced that they would sail early on\nthe morrow.\n\nJane would have begged for a further reprieve, had it not been that she\ntoo had begun to believe that her forest lover would return no more.\n\nIn spite of herself she began to entertain doubts and fears.  The\nreasonableness of the arguments of these disinterested French officers\ncommenced to convince her against her will.\n\nThat he was a cannibal she would not believe, but that he was an\nadopted member of some savage tribe at length seemed possible to her.\n\nShe would not admit that he could be dead.  It was impossible to\nbelieve that that perfect body, so filled with triumphant life, could\never cease to harbor the vital spark--as soon believe that immortality\nwere dust.\n\nAs Jane permitted herself to harbor these thoughts, others equally\nunwelcome forced themselves upon her.\n\nIf he belonged to some savage tribe he had a savage wife--a dozen of\nthem perhaps--and wild, half-caste children.  The girl shuddered, and\nwhen they told her that the cruiser would sail on the morrow she was\nalmost glad.\n\nIt was she, though, who suggested that arms, ammunition, supplies and\ncomforts be left behind in the cabin, ostensibly for that intangible\npersonality who had signed himself Tarzan of the Apes, and for D'Arnot\nshould he still be living, but really, she hoped, for her forest\ngod--even though his feet should prove of clay.\n\nAnd at the last minute she left a message for him, to be transmitted by\nTarzan of the Apes.\n\nShe was the last to leave the cabin, returning on some trivial pretext\nafter the others had started for the boat.\n\nShe kneeled down beside the bed in which she had spent so many nights,\nand offered up a prayer for the safety of her primeval man, and\ncrushing his locket to her lips she murmured:\n\n\"I love you, and because I love you I believe in you.  But if I did not\nbelieve, still should I love.  Had you come back for me, and had there\nbeen no other way, I would have gone into the jungle with you--forever.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXV\n\nThe Outpost of the World\n\n\nWith the report of his gun D'Arnot saw the door fly open and the figure\nof a man pitch headlong within onto the cabin floor.\n\nThe Frenchman in his panic raised his gun to fire again into the\nprostrate form, but suddenly in the half dusk of the open door he saw\nthat the man was white and in another instant realized that he had shot\nhis friend and protector, Tarzan of the Apes.\n\nWith a cry of anguish D'Arnot sprang to the ape-man's side, and\nkneeling, lifted the latter's head in his arms--calling Tarzan's name\naloud.\n\nThere was no response, and then D'Arnot placed his ear above the man's\nheart.  To his joy he heard its steady beating beneath.\n\nCarefully he lifted Tarzan to the cot, and then, after closing and\nbolting the door, he lighted one of the lamps and examined the wound.\n\nThe bullet had struck a glancing blow upon the skull.  There was an\nugly flesh wound, but no signs of a fracture of the skull.\n\nD'Arnot breathed a sigh of relief, and went about bathing the blood\nfrom Tarzan's face.\n\nSoon the cool water revived him, and presently he opened his eyes to\nlook in questioning surprise at D'Arnot.\n\nThe latter had bound the wound with pieces of cloth, and as he saw that\nTarzan had regained consciousness he arose and going to the table wrote\na message, which he handed to the ape-man, explaining the terrible\nmistake he had made and how thankful he was that the wound was not more\nserious.\n\nTarzan, after reading the message, sat on the edge of the couch and\nlaughed.\n\n\n\"It is nothing,\" he said in French, and then, his vocabulary failing\nhim, he wrote:\n\nYou should have seen what Bolgani did to me, and Kerchak, and Terkoz,\nbefore I killed them--then you would laugh at such a little scratch.\n\n\nD'Arnot handed Tarzan the two messages that had been left for him.\n\nTarzan read the first one through with a look of sorrow on his face.\nThe second one he turned over and over, searching for an opening--he\nhad never seen a sealed envelope before.  At length he handed it to\nD'Arnot.\n\nThe Frenchman had been watching him, and knew that Tarzan was puzzled\nover the envelope.  How strange it seemed that to a full-grown white\nman an envelope was a mystery.  D'Arnot opened it and handed the letter\nback to Tarzan.\n\nSitting on a camp stool the ape-man spread the written sheet before him\nand read:\n\nTO TARZAN OF THE APES:\n\nBefore I leave let me add my thanks to those of Mr. Clayton for the\nkindness you have shown in permitting us the use of your cabin.\n\nThat you never came to make friends with us has been a great regret to\nus.  We should have liked so much to have seen and thanked our host.\n\nThere is another I should like to thank also, but he did not come back,\nthough I cannot believe that he is dead.\n\nI do not know his name.  He is the great white giant who wore the\ndiamond locket upon his breast.\n\nIf you know him and can speak his language carry my thanks to him, and\ntell him that I waited seven days for him to return.\n\nTell him, also, that in my home in America, in the city of Baltimore,\nthere will always be a welcome for him if he cares to come.\n\nI found a note you wrote me lying among the leaves beneath a tree near\nthe cabin.  I do not know how you learned to love me, who have never\nspoken to me, and I am very sorry if it is true, for I have already\ngiven my heart to another.\n\nBut know that I am always your friend,\n                                  JANE PORTER.\n\n\nTarzan sat with gaze fixed upon the floor for nearly an hour.  It was\nevident to him from the notes that they did not know that he and Tarzan\nof the Apes were one and the same.\n\n\"I have given my heart to another,\" he repeated over and over again to\nhimself.\n\nThen she did not love him!  How could she have pretended love, and\nraised him to such a pinnacle of hope only to cast him down to such\nutter depths of despair!\n\nMaybe her kisses were only signs of friendship.  How did he know, who\nknew nothing of the customs of human beings?\n\nSuddenly he arose, and, bidding D'Arnot good night as he had learned to\ndo, threw himself upon the couch of ferns that had been Jane Porter's.\n\nD'Arnot extinguished the lamp, and lay down upon the cot.\n\nFor a week they did little but rest, D'Arnot coaching Tarzan in French.\nAt the end of that time the two men could converse quite easily.\n\nOne night, as they were sitting within the cabin before retiring,\nTarzan turned to D'Arnot.\n\n\"Where is America?\" he said.\n\nD'Arnot pointed toward the northwest.\n\n\"Many thousands of miles across the ocean,\" he replied.  \"Why?\"\n\n\"I am going there.\"\n\nD'Arnot shook his head.\n\n\"It is impossible, my friend,\" he said.\n\nTarzan rose, and, going to one of the cupboards, returned with a\nwell-thumbed geography.\n\nTurning to a map of the world, he said:\n\n\"I have never quite understood all this; explain it to me, please.\"\n\nWhen D'Arnot had done so, showing him that the blue represented all the\nwater on the earth, and the bits of other colors the continents and\nislands, Tarzan asked him to point out the spot where they now were.\n\nD'Arnot did so.\n\n\"Now point out America,\" said Tarzan.\n\nAnd as D'Arnot placed his finger upon North America, Tarzan smiled and\nlaid his palm upon the page, spanning the great ocean that lay between\nthe two continents.\n\n\"You see it is not so very far,\" he said; \"scarce the width of my hand.\"\n\nD'Arnot laughed.  How could he make the man understand?\n\nThen he took a pencil and made a tiny point upon the shore of Africa.\n\n\"This little mark,\" he said, \"is many times larger upon this map than\nyour cabin is upon the earth.  Do you see now how very far it is?\"\n\nTarzan thought for a long time.\n\n\"Do any white men live in Africa?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Where are the nearest?\"\n\nD'Arnot pointed out a spot on the shore just north of them.\n\n\"So close?\" asked Tarzan, in surprise.\n\n\"Yes,\" said D'Arnot; \"but it is not close.\"\n\n\"Have they big boats to cross the ocean?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"We shall go there to-morrow,\" announced Tarzan.\n\nAgain D'Arnot smiled and shook his head.\n\n\"It is too far.  We should die long before we reached them.\"\n\n\"Do you wish to stay here then forever?\" asked Tarzan.\n\n\"No,\" said D'Arnot.\n\n\"Then we shall start to-morrow.  I do not like it here longer.  I\nshould rather die than remain here.\"\n\n\"Well,\" answered D'Arnot, with a shrug, \"I do not know, my friend, but\nthat I also would rather die than remain here.  If you go, I shall go\nwith you.\"\n\n\"It is settled then,\" said Tarzan.  \"I shall start for America\nto-morrow.\"\n\n\"How will you get to America without money?\" asked D'Arnot.\n\n\"What is money?\" inquired Tarzan.\n\nIt took a long time to make him understand even imperfectly.\n\n\"How do men get money?\" he asked at last.\n\n\"They work for it.\"\n\n\"Very well.  I will work for it, then.\"\n\n\"No, my friend,\" returned D'Arnot, \"you need not worry about money, nor\nneed you work for it.  I have enough money for two--enough for twenty.\nMuch more than is good for one man and you shall have all you need if\never we reach civilization.\"\n\nSo on the following day they started north along the shore.  Each man\ncarrying a rifle and ammunition, beside bedding and some food and\ncooking utensils.\n\nThe latter seemed to Tarzan a most useless encumbrance, so he threw his\naway.\n\n\"But you must learn to eat cooked food, my friend,\" remonstrated\nD'Arnot.  \"No civilized men eat raw flesh.\"\n\n\"There will be time enough when I reach civilization,\" said Tarzan.  \"I\ndo not like the things and they only spoil the taste of good meat.\"\n\nFor a month they traveled north.  Sometimes finding food in plenty and\nagain going hungry for days.\n\nThey saw no signs of natives nor were they molested by wild beasts.\nTheir journey was a miracle of ease.\n\nTarzan asked questions and learned rapidly.  D'Arnot taught him many of\nthe refinements of civilization--even to the use of knife and fork; but\nsometimes Tarzan would drop them in disgust and grasp his food in his\nstrong brown hands, tearing it with his molars like a wild beast.\n\nThen D'Arnot would expostulate with him, saying:\n\n\"You must not eat like a brute, Tarzan, while I am trying to make a\ngentleman of you.  MON DIEU!  Gentlemen do not thus--it is terrible.\"\n\nTarzan would grin sheepishly and pick up his knife and fork again, but\nat heart he hated them.\n\nOn the journey he told D'Arnot about the great chest he had seen the\nsailors bury; of how he had dug it up and carried it to the gathering\nplace of the apes and buried it there.\n\n\"It must be the treasure chest of Professor Porter,\" said D'Arnot.  \"It\nis too bad, but of course you did not know.\"\n\nThen Tarzan recalled the letter written by Jane to her friend--the one\nhe had stolen when they first came to his cabin, and now he knew what\nwas in the chest and what it meant to Jane.\n\n\"To-morrow we shall go back after it,\" he announced to D'Arnot.\n\n\"Go back?\" exclaimed D'Arnot.  \"But, my dear fellow, we have now been\nthree weeks upon the march.  It would require three more to return to\nthe treasure, and then, with that enormous weight which required, you\nsay, four sailors to carry, it would be months before we had again\nreached this spot.\"\n\n\"It must be done, my friend,\" insisted Tarzan.  \"You may go on toward\ncivilization, and I will return for the treasure.  I can go very much\nfaster alone.\"\n\n\"I have a better plan, Tarzan,\" exclaimed D'Arnot.  \"We shall go on\ntogether to the nearest settlement, and there we will charter a boat\nand sail back down the coast for the treasure and so transport it\neasily.  That will be safer and quicker and also not require us to be\nseparated.  What do you think of that plan?\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Tarzan.  \"The treasure will be there whenever we go\nfor it; and while I could fetch it now, and catch up with you in a moon\nor two, I shall feel safer for you to know that you are not alone on\nthe trail.  When I see how helpless you are, D'Arnot, I often wonder\nhow the human race has escaped annihilation all these ages which you\ntell me about.  Why, Sabor, single handed, could exterminate a thousand\nof you.\"\n\nD'Arnot laughed.\n\n\"You will think more highly of your genus when you have seen its armies\nand navies, its great cities, and its mighty engineering works.  Then\nyou will realize that it is mind, and not muscle, that makes the human\nanimal greater than the mighty beasts of your jungle.\n\n\"Alone and unarmed, a single man is no match for any of the larger\nbeasts; but if ten men were together, they would combine their wits and\ntheir muscles against their savage enemies, while the beasts, being\nunable to reason, would never think of combining against the men.\nOtherwise, Tarzan of the Apes, how long would you have lasted in the\nsavage wilderness?\"\n\n\"You are right, D'Arnot,\" replied Tarzan, \"for if Kerchak had come to\nTublat's aid that night at the Dum-Dum, there would have been an end of\nme.  But Kerchak could never think far enough ahead to take advantage\nof any such opportunity.  Even Kala, my mother, could never plan ahead.\nShe simply ate what she needed when she needed it, and if the supply\nwas very scarce, even though she found plenty for several meals, she\nwould never gather any ahead.\n\n\"I remember that she used to think it very silly of me to burden myself\nwith extra food upon the march, though she was quite glad to eat it\nwith me, if the way chanced to be barren of sustenance.\"\n\n\"Then you knew your mother, Tarzan?\" asked D'Arnot, in surprise.\n\n\"Yes.  She was a great, fine ape, larger than I, and weighing twice as\nmuch.\"\n\n\"And your father?\" asked D'Arnot.\n\n\"I did not know him.  Kala told me he was a white ape, and hairless\nlike myself.  I know now that he must have been a white man.\"\n\nD'Arnot looked long and earnestly at his companion.\n\n\"Tarzan,\" he said at length, \"it is impossible that the ape, Kala, was\nyour mother.  If such a thing can be, which I doubt, you would have\ninherited some of the characteristics of the ape, but you have not--you\nare pure man, and, I should say, the offspring of highly bred and\nintelligent parents.  Have you not the slightest clue to your past?\"\n\n\"Not the slightest,\" replied Tarzan.\n\n\"No writings in the cabin that might have told something of the lives\nof its original inmates?\"\n\n\"I have read everything that was in the cabin with the exception of one\nbook which I know now to be written in a language other than English.\nPossibly you can read it.\"\n\nTarzan fished the little black diary from the bottom of his quiver, and\nhanded it to his companion.\n\nD'Arnot glanced at the title page.\n\n\"It is the diary of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, an English nobleman,\nand it is written in French,\" he said.\n\nThen he proceeded to read the diary that had been written over twenty\nyears before, and which recorded the details of the story which we\nalready know--the story of adventure, hardships and sorrow of John\nClayton and his wife Alice, from the day they left England until an\nhour before he was struck down by Kerchak.\n\nD'Arnot read aloud.  At times his voice broke, and he was forced to\nstop reading for the pitiful hopelessness that spoke between the lines.\n\nOccasionally he glanced at Tarzan; but the ape-man sat upon his\nhaunches, like a carven image, his eyes fixed upon the ground.\n\nOnly when the little babe was mentioned did the tone of the diary alter\nfrom the habitual note of despair which had crept into it by degrees\nafter the first two months upon the shore.\n\nThen the passages were tinged with a subdued happiness that was even\nsadder than the rest.\n\nOne entry showed an almost hopeful spirit.\n\nTo-day our little boy is six months old.  He is sitting in Alice's lap\nbeside the table where I am writing--a happy, healthy, perfect child.\n\nSomehow, even against all reason, I seem to see him a grown man, taking\nhis father's place in the world--the second John Clayton--and bringing\nadded honors to the house of Greystoke.\n\nThere--as though to give my prophecy the weight of his endorsement--he\nhas grabbed my pen in his chubby fists and with his inkbegrimed little\nfingers has placed the seal of his tiny finger prints upon the page.\n\n\nAnd there, on the margin of the page, were the partially blurred\nimprints of four wee fingers and the outer half of the thumb.\n\nWhen D'Arnot had finished the diary the two men sat in silence for some\nminutes.\n\n\"Well!  Tarzan of the Apes, what think you?\" asked D'Arnot.  \"Does not\nthis little book clear up the mystery of your parentage?\n\n\"Why man, you are Lord Greystoke.\"\n\n\"The book speaks of but one child,\" he replied.  \"Its little skeleton\nlay in the crib, where it died crying for nourishment, from the first\ntime I entered the cabin until Professor Porter's party buried it, with\nits father and mother, beside the cabin.\n\n\"No, that was the babe the book speaks of--and the mystery of my origin\nis deeper than before, for I have thought much of late of the\npossibility of that cabin having been my birthplace.  I am afraid that\nKala spoke the truth,\" he concluded sadly.\n\nD'Arnot shook his head.  He was unconvinced, and in his mind had sprung\nthe determination to prove the correctness of his theory, for he had\ndiscovered the key which alone could unlock the mystery, or consign it\nforever to the realms of the unfathomable.\n\nA week later the two men came suddenly upon a clearing in the forest.\n\nIn the distance were several buildings surrounded by a strong palisade.\nBetween them and the enclosure stretched a cultivated field in which a\nnumber of negroes were working.\n\nThe two halted at the edge of the jungle.\n\nTarzan fitted his bow with a poisoned arrow, but D'Arnot placed a hand\nupon his arm.\n\n\"What would you do, Tarzan?\" he asked.\n\n\"They will try to kill us if they see us,\" replied Tarzan.  \"I prefer\nto be the killer.\"\n\n\"Maybe they are friends,\" suggested D'Arnot.\n\n\"They are black,\" was Tarzan's only reply.\n\nAnd again he drew back his shaft.\n\n\"You must not, Tarzan!\" cried D'Arnot.  \"White men do not kill\nwantonly.  MON DIEU! but you have much to learn.\n\n\"I pity the ruffian who crosses you, my wild man, when I take you to\nParis.  I will have my hands full keeping your neck from beneath the\nguillotine.\"\n\nTarzan lowered his bow and smiled.\n\n\"I do not know why I should kill the blacks back there in my jungle,\nyet not kill them here.  Suppose Numa, the lion, should spring out upon\nus, I should say, then, I presume: Good morning, Monsieur Numa, how is\nMadame Numa; eh?\"\n\n\"Wait until the blacks spring upon you,\" replied D'Arnot, \"then you may\nkill them.  Do not assume that men are your enemies until they prove\nit.\"\n\n\"Come,\" said Tarzan, \"let us go and present ourselves to be killed,\"\nand he started straight across the field, his head high held and the\ntropical sun beating upon his smooth, brown skin.\n\nBehind him came D'Arnot, clothed in some garments which had been\ndiscarded at the cabin by Clayton when the officers of the French\ncruiser had fitted him out in more presentable fashion.\n\nPresently one of the blacks looked up, and beholding Tarzan, turned,\nshrieking, toward the palisade.\n\nIn an instant the air was filled with cries of terror from the fleeing\ngardeners, but before any had reached the palisade a white man emerged\nfrom the enclosure, rifle in hand, to discover the cause of the\ncommotion.\n\nWhat he saw brought his rifle to his shoulder, and Tarzan of the Apes\nwould have felt cold lead once again had not D'Arnot cried loudly to\nthe man with the leveled gun:\n\n\"Do not fire!  We are friends!\"\n\n\"Halt, then!\" was the reply.\n\n\"Stop, Tarzan!\" cried D'Arnot.  \"He thinks we are enemies.\"\n\nTarzan dropped into a walk, and together he and D'Arnot advanced toward\nthe white man by the gate.\n\nThe latter eyed them in puzzled bewilderment.\n\n\"What manner of men are you?\" he asked, in French.\n\n\"White men,\" replied D'Arnot.  \"We have been lost in the jungle for a\nlong time.\"\n\nThe man had lowered his rifle and now advanced with outstretched hand.\n\n\"I am Father Constantine of the French Mission here,\" he said, \"and I\nam glad to welcome you.\"\n\n\"This is Monsieur Tarzan, Father Constantine,\" replied D'Arnot,\nindicating the ape-man; and as the priest extended his hand to Tarzan,\nD'Arnot added: \"and I am Paul D'Arnot, of the French Navy.\"\n\nFather Constantine took the hand which Tarzan extended in imitation of\nthe priest's act, while the latter took in the superb physique and\nhandsome face in one quick, keen glance.\n\nAnd thus came Tarzan of the Apes to the first outpost of civilization.\n\nFor a week they remained there, and the ape-man, keenly observant,\nlearned much of the ways of men; meanwhile black women sewed white duck\ngarments for himself and D'Arnot so that they might continue their\njourney properly clothed.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXVI\n\nThe Height of Civilization\n\n\nAnother month brought them to a little group of buildings at the mouth\nof a wide river, and there Tarzan saw many boats, and was filled with\nthe timidity of the wild thing by the sight of many men.\n\nGradually he became accustomed to the strange noises and the odd ways\nof civilization, so that presently none might know that two short\nmonths before, this handsome Frenchman in immaculate white ducks, who\nlaughed and chatted with the gayest of them, had been swinging naked\nthrough primeval forests to pounce upon some unwary victim, which, raw,\nwas to fill his savage belly.\n\nThe knife and fork, so contemptuously flung aside a month before,\nTarzan now manipulated as exquisitely as did the polished D'Arnot.\n\nSo apt a pupil had he been that the young Frenchman had labored\nassiduously to make of Tarzan of the Apes a polished gentleman in so\nfar as nicety of manners and speech were concerned.\n\n\"God made you a gentleman at heart, my friend,\" D'Arnot had said; \"but\nwe want His works to show upon the exterior also.\"\n\nAs soon as they had reached the little port, D'Arnot had cabled his\ngovernment of his safety, and requested a three-months' leave, which\nhad been granted.\n\nHe had also cabled his bankers for funds, and the enforced wait of a\nmonth, under which both chafed, was due to their inability to charter a\nvessel for the return to Tarzan's jungle after the treasure.\n\nDuring their stay at the coast town \"Monsieur Tarzan\" became the wonder\nof both whites and blacks because of several occurrences which to\nTarzan seemed the merest of nothings.\n\nOnce a huge black, crazed by drink, had run amuck and terrorized the\ntown, until his evil star had led him to where the black-haired French\ngiant lolled upon the veranda of the hotel.\n\nMounting the broad steps, with brandished knife, the Negro made\nstraight for a party of four men sitting at a table sipping the\ninevitable absinthe.\n\nShouting in alarm, the four took to their heels, and then the black\nspied Tarzan.\n\nWith a roar he charged the ape-man, while half a hundred heads peered\nfrom sheltering windows and doorways to witness the butchering of the\npoor Frenchman by the giant black.\n\nTarzan met the rush with the fighting smile that the joy of battle\nalways brought to his lips.\n\nAs the Negro closed upon him, steel muscles gripped the black wrist of\nthe uplifted knife-hand, and a single swift wrench left the hand\ndangling below a broken bone.\n\nWith the pain and surprise, the madness left the black man, and as\nTarzan dropped back into his chair the fellow turned, crying with\nagony, and dashed wildly toward the native village.\n\nOn another occasion as Tarzan and D'Arnot sat at dinner with a number\nof other whites, the talk fell upon lions and lion hunting.\n\nOpinion was divided as to the bravery of the king of beasts--some\nmaintaining that he was an arrant coward, but all agreeing that it was\nwith a feeling of greater security that they gripped their express\nrifles when the monarch of the jungle roared about a camp at night.\n\nD'Arnot and Tarzan had agreed that his past be kept secret, and so none\nother than the French officer knew of the ape-man's familiarity with\nthe beasts of the jungle.\n\n\"Monsieur Tarzan has not expressed himself,\" said one of the party.  \"A\nman of his prowess who has spent some time in Africa, as I understand\nMonsieur Tarzan has, must have had experiences with lions--yes?\"\n\n\"Some,\" replied Tarzan, dryly.  \"Enough to know that each of you are\nright in your judgment of the characteristics of the lions--you have\nmet.  But one might as well judge all blacks by the fellow who ran\namuck last week, or decide that all whites are cowards because one has\nmet a cowardly white.\n\n\"There is as much individuality among the lower orders, gentlemen, as\nthere is among ourselves.  Today we may go out and stumble upon a lion\nwhich is over-timid--he runs away from us.  To-morrow we may meet his\nuncle or his twin brother, and our friends wonder why we do not return\nfrom the jungle.  For myself, I always assume that a lion is ferocious,\nand so I am never caught off my guard.\"\n\n\"There would be little pleasure in hunting,\" retorted the first\nspeaker, \"if one is afraid of the thing he hunts.\"\n\nD'Arnot smiled.  Tarzan afraid!\n\n\"I do not exactly understand what you mean by fear,\" said Tarzan.\n\"Like lions, fear is a different thing in different men, but to me the\nonly pleasure in the hunt is the knowledge that the hunted thing has\npower to harm me as much as I have to harm him.  If I went out with a\ncouple of rifles and a gun bearer, and twenty or thirty beaters, to\nhunt a lion, I should not feel that the lion had much chance, and so\nthe pleasure of the hunt would be lessened in proportion to the\nincreased safety which I felt.\"\n\n\"Then I am to take it that Monsieur Tarzan would prefer to go naked\ninto the jungle, armed only with a jackknife, to kill the king of\nbeasts,\" laughed the other, good naturedly, but with the merest touch\nof sarcasm in his tone.\n\n\"And a piece of rope,\" added Tarzan.\n\nJust then the deep roar of a lion sounded from the distant jungle, as\nthough to challenge whoever dared enter the lists with him.\n\n\"There is your opportunity, Monsieur Tarzan,\" bantered the Frenchman.\n\n\"I am not hungry,\" said Tarzan simply.\n\nThe men laughed, all but D'Arnot.  He alone knew that a savage beast\nhad spoken its simple reason through the lips of the ape-man.\n\n\"But you are afraid, just as any of us would be, to go out there naked,\narmed only with a knife and a piece of rope,\" said the banterer.  \"Is\nit not so?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Tarzan.  \"Only a fool performs any act without reason.\"\n\n\"Five thousand francs is a reason,\" said the other.  \"I wager you that\namount you cannot bring back a lion from the jungle under the\nconditions we have named--naked and armed only with a knife and a piece\nof rope.\"\n\nTarzan glanced toward D'Arnot and nodded his head.\n\n\"Make it ten thousand,\" said D'Arnot.\n\n\"Done,\" replied the other.\n\nTarzan arose.\n\n\"I shall have to leave my clothes at the edge of the settlement, so\nthat if I do not return before daylight I shall have something to wear\nthrough the streets.\"\n\n\"You are not going now,\" exclaimed the wagerer--\"at night?\"\n\n\"Why not?\" asked Tarzan.  \"Numa walks abroad at night--it will be\neasier to find him.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the other, \"I do not want your blood upon my hands.  It will\nbe foolhardy enough if you go forth by day.\"\n\n\"I shall go now,\" replied Tarzan, and went to his room for his knife\nand rope.\n\nThe men accompanied him to the edge of the jungle, where he left his\nclothes in a small storehouse.\n\nBut when he would have entered the blackness of the undergrowth they\ntried to dissuade him; and the wagerer was most insistent of all that\nhe abandon his foolhardy venture.\n\n\"I will accede that you have won,\" he said, \"and the ten thousand\nfrancs are yours if you will but give up this foolish attempt, which\ncan only end in your death.\"\n\nTarzan laughed, and in another moment the jungle had swallowed him.\n\nThe men stood silent for some moments and then slowly turned and walked\nback to the hotel veranda.\n\nTarzan had no sooner entered the jungle than he took to the trees, and\nit was with a feeling of exultant freedom that he swung once more\nthrough the forest branches.\n\nThis was life!  Ah, how he loved it!  Civilization held nothing like\nthis in its narrow and circumscribed sphere, hemmed in by restrictions\nand conventionalities.  Even clothes were a hindrance and a nuisance.\n\nAt last he was free.  He had not realized what a prisoner he had been.\n\nHow easy it would be to circle back to the coast, and then make toward\nthe south and his own jungle and cabin.\n\nNow he caught the scent of Numa, for he was traveling up wind.\nPresently his quick ears detected the familiar sound of padded feet and\nthe brushing of a huge, fur-clad body through the undergrowth.\n\nTarzan came quietly above the unsuspecting beast and silently stalked\nhim until he came into a little patch of moonlight.\n\nThen the quick noose settled and tightened about the tawny throat, and,\nas he had done it a hundred times in the past, Tarzan made fast the end\nto a strong branch and, while the beast fought and clawed for freedom,\ndropped to the ground behind him, and leaping upon the great back,\nplunged his long thin blade a dozen times into the fierce heart.\n\nThen with his foot upon the carcass of Numa, he raised his voice in the\nawesome victory cry of his savage tribe.\n\nFor a moment Tarzan stood irresolute, swayed by conflicting emotions of\nloyalty to D'Arnot and a mighty lust for the freedom of his own jungle.\nAt last the vision of a beautiful face, and the memory of warm lips\ncrushed to his dissolved the fascinating picture he had been drawing of\nhis old life.\n\nThe ape-man threw the warm carcass of Numa across his shoulders and\ntook to the trees once more.\n\nThe men upon the veranda had sat for an hour, almost in silence.\n\nThey had tried ineffectually to converse on various subjects, and\nalways the thing uppermost in the mind of each had caused the\nconversation to lapse.\n\n\"MON DIEU,\" said the wagerer at length, \"I can endure it no longer.  I\nam going into the jungle with my express and bring back that mad man.\"\n\n\"I will go with you,\" said one.\n\n\"And I\"--\"And I\"--\"And I,\" chorused the others.\n\nAs though the suggestion had broken the spell of some horrid nightmare\nthey hastened to their various quarters, and presently were headed\ntoward the jungle--each one heavily armed.\n\n\"God!  What was that?\" suddenly cried one of the party, an Englishman,\nas Tarzan's savage cry came faintly to their ears.\n\n\"I heard the same thing once before,\" said a Belgian, \"when I was in\nthe gorilla country.  My carriers said it was the cry of a great bull\nape who has made a kill.\"\n\nD'Arnot remembered Clayton's description of the awful roar with which\nTarzan had announced his kills, and he half smiled in spite of the\nhorror which filled him to think that the uncanny sound could have\nissued from a human throat--from the lips of his friend.\n\nAs the party stood finally near the edge of the jungle, debating as to\nthe best distribution of their forces, they were startled by a low\nlaugh near them, and turning, beheld advancing toward them a giant\nfigure bearing a dead lion upon its broad shoulders.\n\nEven D'Arnot was thunderstruck, for it seemed impossible that the man\ncould have so quickly dispatched a lion with the pitiful weapons he had\ntaken, or that alone he could have borne the huge carcass through the\ntangled jungle.\n\nThe men crowded about Tarzan with many questions, but his only answer\nwas a laughing depreciation of his feat.\n\nTo Tarzan it was as though one should eulogize a butcher for his\nheroism in killing a cow, for Tarzan had killed so often for food and\nfor self-preservation that the act seemed anything but remarkable to\nhim.  But he was indeed a hero in the eyes of these men--men accustomed\nto hunting big game.\n\nIncidentally, he had won ten thousand francs, for D'Arnot insisted that\nhe keep it all.\n\nThis was a very important item to Tarzan, who was just commencing to\nrealize the power which lay beyond the little pieces of metal and paper\nwhich always changed hands when human beings rode, or ate, or slept, or\nclothed themselves, or drank, or worked, or played, or sheltered\nthemselves from the rain or cold or sun.\n\nIt had become evident to Tarzan that without money one must die.\nD'Arnot had told him not to worry, since he had more than enough for\nboth, but the ape-man was learning many things and one of them was that\npeople looked down upon one who accepted money from another without\ngiving something of equal value in exchange.\n\nShortly after the episode of the lion hunt, D'Arnot succeeded in\nchartering an ancient tub for the coastwise trip to Tarzan's\nland-locked harbor.\n\nIt was a happy morning for them both when the little vessel weighed\nanchor and made for the open sea.\n\nThe trip to the beach was uneventful, and the morning after they\ndropped anchor before the cabin, Tarzan, garbed once more in his jungle\nregalia and carrying a spade, set out alone for the amphitheater of the\napes where lay the treasure.\n\nLate the next day he returned, bearing the great chest upon his\nshoulder, and at sunrise the little vessel worked through the harbor's\nmouth and took up her northward journey.\n\nThree weeks later Tarzan and D'Arnot were passengers on board a French\nsteamer bound for Lyons, and after a few days in that city D'Arnot took\nTarzan to Paris.\n\nThe ape-man was anxious to proceed to America, but D'Arnot insisted\nthat he must accompany him to Paris first, nor would he divulge the\nnature of the urgent necessity upon which he based his demand.\n\nOne of the first things which D'Arnot accomplished after their arrival\nwas to arrange to visit a high official of the police department, an\nold friend; and to take Tarzan with him.\n\nAdroitly D'Arnot led the conversation from point to point until the\npoliceman had explained to the interested Tarzan many of the methods in\nvogue for apprehending and identifying criminals.\n\nNot the least interesting to Tarzan was the part played by finger\nprints in this fascinating science.\n\n\"But of what value are these imprints,\" asked Tarzan, \"when, after a\nfew years the lines upon the fingers are entirely changed by the\nwearing out of the old tissue and the growth of new?\"\n\n\"The lines never change,\" replied the official.  \"From infancy to\nsenility the fingerprints of an individual change only in size, except\nas injuries alter the loops and whorls.  But if imprints have been\ntaken of the thumb and four fingers of both hands one must needs lose\nall entirely to escape identification.\"\n\n\"It is marvelous,\" exclaimed D'Arnot.  \"I wonder what the lines upon my\nown fingers may resemble.\"\n\n\"We can soon see,\" replied the police officer, and ringing a bell he\nsummoned an assistant to whom he issued a few directions.\n\nThe man left the room, but presently returned with a little hardwood\nbox which he placed on his superior's desk.\n\n\"Now,\" said the officer, \"you shall have your fingerprints in a second.\"\n\nHe drew from the little case a square of plate glass, a little tube of\nthick ink, a rubber roller, and a few snowy white cards.\n\nSqueezing a drop of ink onto the glass, he spread it back and forth\nwith the rubber roller until the entire surface of the glass was\ncovered to his satisfaction with a very thin and uniform layer of ink.\n\n\"Place the four fingers of your right hand upon the glass, thus,\" he\nsaid to D'Arnot.  \"Now the thumb.  That is right.  Now place them in\njust the same position upon this card, here, no--a little to the right.\nWe must leave room for the thumb and the fingers of the left hand.\nThere, that's it.  Now the same with the left.\"\n\n\"Come, Tarzan,\" cried D'Arnot, \"let's see what your whorls look like.\"\n\nTarzan complied readily, asking many questions of the officer during\nthe operation.\n\n\"Do fingerprints show racial characteristics?\" he asked.  \"Could you\ndetermine, for example, solely from fingerprints whether the subject\nwas Negro or Caucasian?\"\n\n\"I think not,\" replied the officer.\n\n\"Could the finger prints of an ape be detected from those of a man?\"\n\n\"Probably, because the ape's would be far simpler than those of the\nhigher organism.\"\n\n\"But a cross between an ape and a man might show the characteristics of\neither progenitor?\" continued Tarzan.\n\n\"Yes, I should think likely,\" responded the official; \"but the science\nhas not progressed sufficiently to render it exact enough in such\nmatters.  I should hate to trust its findings further than to\ndifferentiate between individuals.  There it is absolute.  No two\npeople born into the world probably have ever had identical lines upon\nall their digits.  It is very doubtful if any single fingerprint will\never be exactly duplicated by any finger other than the one which\noriginally made it.\"\n\n\"Does the comparison require much time or labor?\" asked D'Arnot.\n\n\"Ordinarily but a few moments, if the impressions are distinct.\"\n\nD'Arnot drew a little black book from his pocket and commenced turning\nthe pages.\n\nTarzan looked at the book in surprise.  How did D'Arnot come to have\nhis book?\n\nPresently D'Arnot stopped at a page on which were five tiny little\nsmudges.\n\nHe handed the open book to the policeman.\n\n\"Are these imprints similar to mine or Monsieur Tarzan's or can you say\nthat they are identical with either?\" The officer drew a powerful glass\nfrom his desk and examined all three specimens carefully, making\nnotations meanwhile upon a pad of paper.\n\nTarzan realized now what was the meaning of their visit to the police\nofficer.\n\nThe answer to his life's riddle lay in these tiny marks.\n\nWith tense nerves he sat leaning forward in his chair, but suddenly he\nrelaxed and dropped back, smiling.\n\nD'Arnot looked at him in surprise.\n\n\"You forget that for twenty years the dead body of the child who made\nthose fingerprints lay in the cabin of his father, and that all my life\nI have seen it lying there,\" said Tarzan bitterly.\n\nThe policeman looked up in astonishment.\n\n\"Go ahead, captain, with your examination,\" said D'Arnot, \"we will tell\nyou the story later--provided Monsieur Tarzan is agreeable.\"\n\nTarzan nodded his head.\n\n\"But you are mad, my dear D'Arnot,\" he insisted.  \"Those little fingers\nare buried on the west coast of Africa.\"\n\n\"I do not know as to that, Tarzan,\" replied D'Arnot.  \"It is possible,\nbut if you are not the son of John Clayton then how in heaven's name\ndid you come into that God forsaken jungle where no white man other\nthan John Clayton had ever set foot?\"\n\n\"You forget--Kala,\" said Tarzan.\n\n\"I do not even consider her,\" replied D'Arnot.\n\nThe friends had walked to the broad window overlooking the boulevard as\nthey talked.  For some time they stood there gazing out upon the busy\nthrong beneath, each wrapped in his own thoughts.\n\n\"It takes some time to compare finger prints,\" thought D'Arnot, turning\nto look at the police officer.\n\nTo his astonishment he saw the official leaning back in his chair\nhastily scanning the contents of the little black diary.\n\nD'Arnot coughed.  The policeman looked up, and, catching his eye,\nraised his finger to admonish silence.  D'Arnot turned back to the\nwindow, and presently the police officer spoke.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" he said.\n\nBoth turned toward him.\n\n\"There is evidently a great deal at stake which must hinge to a greater\nor lesser extent upon the absolute correctness of this comparison.  I\ntherefore ask that you leave the entire matter in my hands until\nMonsieur Desquerc, our expert returns.  It will be but a matter of a\nfew days.\"\n\n\"I had hoped to know at once,\" said D'Arnot.  \"Monsieur Tarzan sails\nfor America tomorrow.\"\n\n\"I will promise that you can cable him a report within two weeks,\"\nreplied the officer; \"but what it will be I dare not say.  There are\nresemblances, yet--well, we had better leave it for Monsieur Desquerc\nto solve.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXVII\n\nThe Giant Again\n\n\nA taxicab drew up before an oldfashioned residence upon the outskirts\nof Baltimore.\n\nA man of about forty, well built and with strong, regular features,\nstepped out, and paying the chauffeur dismissed him.\n\nA moment later the passenger was entering the library of the old home.\n\n\"Ah, Mr. Canler!\" exclaimed an old man, rising to greet him.\n\n\"Good evening, my dear Professor,\" cried the man, extending a cordial\nhand.\n\n\"Who admitted you?\" asked the professor.\n\n\"Esmeralda.\"\n\n\"Then she will acquaint Jane with the fact that you are here,\" said the\nold man.\n\n\"No, Professor,\" replied Canler, \"for I came primarily to see you.\"\n\n\"Ah, I am honored,\" said Professor Porter.\n\n\"Professor,\" continued Robert Canler, with great deliberation, as\nthough carefully weighing his words, \"I have come this evening to speak\nwith you about Jane.\n\n\"You know my aspirations, and you have been generous enough to approve\nmy suit.\"\n\nProfessor Archimedes Q. Porter fidgeted in his armchair.  The subject\nalways made him uncomfortable.  He could not understand why.  Canler\nwas a splendid match.\n\n\"But Jane,\" continued Canler, \"I cannot understand her.  She puts me\noff first on one ground and then another.  I have always the feeling\nthat she breathes a sigh of relief every time I bid her good-by.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut,\" said Professor Porter.  \"Tut, tut, Mr. Canler.  Jane is a\nmost obedient daughter.  She will do precisely as I tell her.\"\n\n\"Then I can still count on your support?\" asked Canler, a tone of\nrelief marking his voice.\n\n\"Certainly, sir; certainly, sir,\" exclaimed Professor Porter.  \"How\ncould you doubt it?\"\n\n\"There is young Clayton, you know,\" suggested Canler. \"He has been\nhanging about for months.  I don't know that Jane cares for him; but\nbeside his title they say he has inherited a very considerable estate\nfrom his father, and it might not be strange,--if he finally won her,\nunless--\" and Canler paused.\n\n\"Tut--tut, Mr. Canler; unless--what?\"\n\n\"Unless, you see fit to request that Jane and I be married at once,\"\nsaid Canler, slowly and distinctly.\n\n\"I have already suggested to Jane that it would be desirable,\" said\nProfessor Porter sadly, \"for we can no longer afford to keep up this\nhouse, and live as her associations demand.\"\n\n\"What was her reply?\" asked Canler.\n\n\"She said she was not ready to marry anyone yet,\" replied Professor\nPorter, \"and that we could go and live upon the farm in northern\nWisconsin which her mother left her.\n\n\"It is a little more than self-supporting.  The tenants have always\nmade a living from it, and been able to send Jane a trifle beside, each\nyear.  She is planning on our going up there the first of the week.\nPhilander and Mr. Clayton have already gone to get things in readiness\nfor us.\"\n\n\"Clayton has gone there?\" exclaimed Canler, visibly chagrined.  \"Why\nwas I not told?  I would gladly have gone and seen that every comfort\nwas provided.\"\n\n\"Jane feels that we are already too much in your debt, Mr. Canler,\"\nsaid Professor Porter.\n\nCanler was about to reply, when the sound of footsteps came from the\nhall without, and Jane entered the room.\n\n\"Oh, I beg your pardon!\" she exclaimed, pausing on the threshold.  \"I\nthought you were alone, papa.\"\n\n\"It is only I, Jane,\" said Canler, who had risen, \"won't you come in\nand join the family group?  We were just speaking of you.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Jane, entering and taking the chair Canler placed for\nher.  \"I only wanted to tell papa that Tobey is coming down from the\ncollege tomorrow to pack his books.  I want you to be sure, papa, to\nindicate all that you can do without until fall.  Please don't carry\nthis entire library to Wisconsin, as you would have carried it to\nAfrica, if I had not put my foot down.\"\n\n\"Was Tobey here?\" asked Professor Porter.\n\n\"Yes, I just left him.  He and Esmeralda are exchanging religious\nexperiences on the back porch now.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, I must see him at once!\" cried the professor.  \"Excuse me\njust a moment, children,\" and the old man hastened from the room.\n\nAs soon as he was out of earshot Canler turned to Jane.\n\n\"See here, Jane,\" he said bluntly.  \"How long is this thing going on\nlike this?  You haven't refused to marry me, but you haven't promised\neither.  I want to get the license tomorrow, so that we can be married\nquietly before you leave for Wisconsin.  I don't care for any fuss or\nfeathers, and I'm sure you don't either.\"\n\nThe girl turned cold, but she held her head bravely.\n\n\"Your father wishes it, you know,\" added Canler.\n\n\"Yes, I know.\"\n\nShe spoke scarcely above a whisper.\n\n\"Do you realize that you are buying me, Mr. Canler?\" she said finally,\nand in a cold, level voice.  \"Buying me for a few paltry dollars?  Of\ncourse you do, Robert Canler, and the hope of just such a contingency\nwas in your mind when you loaned papa the money for that hair-brained\nescapade, which but for a most mysterious circumstance would have been\nsurprisingly successful.\n\n\"But you, Mr. Canler, would have been the most surprised.  You had no\nidea that the venture would succeed.  You are too good a businessman\nfor that.  And you are too good a businessman to loan money for buried\ntreasure seeking, or to loan money without security--unless you had\nsome special object in view.\n\n\"You knew that without security you had a greater hold on the honor of\nthe Porters than with it.  You knew the one best way to force me to\nmarry you, without seeming to force me.\n\n\"You have never mentioned the loan.  In any other man I should have\nthought that the prompting of a magnanimous and noble character.  But\nyou are deep, Mr. Robert Canler.  I know you better than you think I\nknow you.\n\n\"I shall certainly marry you if there is no other way, but let us\nunderstand each other once and for all.\"\n\nWhile she spoke Robert Canler had alternately flushed and paled, and\nwhen she ceased speaking he arose, and with a cynical smile upon his\nstrong face, said:\n\n\"You surprise me, Jane.  I thought you had more self-control--more\npride.  Of course you are right.  I am buying you, and I knew that you\nknew it, but I thought you would prefer to pretend that it was\notherwise.  I should have thought your self respect and your Porter\npride would have shrunk from admitting, even to yourself, that you were\na bought woman.  But have it your own way, dear girl,\" he added\nlightly.  \"I am going to have you, and that is all that interests me.\"\n\nWithout a word the girl turned and left the room.\n\nJane was not married before she left with her father and Esmeralda for\nher little Wisconsin farm, and as she coldly bid Robert Canler goodby\nas her train pulled out, he called to her that he would join them in a\nweek or two.\n\nAt their destination they were met by Clayton and Mr. Philander in a\nhuge touring car belonging to the former, and quickly whirled away\nthrough the dense northern woods toward the little farm which the girl\nhad not visited before since childhood.\n\nThe farmhouse, which stood on a little elevation some hundred yards\nfrom the tenant house, had undergone a complete transformation during\nthe three weeks that Clayton and Mr. Philander had been there.\n\nThe former had imported a small army of carpenters and plasterers,\nplumbers and painters from a distant city, and what had been but a\ndilapidated shell when they reached it was now a cosy little two-story\nhouse filled with every modern convenience procurable in so short a\ntime.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Clayton, what have you done?\" cried Jane Porter, her heart\nsinking within her as she realized the probable size of the expenditure\nthat had been made.\n\n\"S-sh,\" cautioned Clayton.  \"Don't let your father guess.  If you don't\ntell him he will never notice, and I simply couldn't think of him\nliving in the terrible squalor and sordidness which Mr. Philander and I\nfound.  It was so little when I would like to do so much, Jane.  For\nhis sake, please, never mention it.\"\n\n\"But you know that we can't repay you,\" cried the girl.  \"Why do you\nwant to put me under such terrible obligations?\"\n\n\"Don't, Jane,\" said Clayton sadly.  \"If it had been just you, believe\nme, I wouldn't have done it, for I knew from the start that it would\nonly hurt me in your eyes, but I couldn't think of that dear old man\nliving in the hole we found here.  Won't you please believe that I did\nit just for him and give me that little crumb of pleasure at least?\"\n\n\"I do believe you, Mr. Clayton,\" said the girl, \"because I know you are\nbig enough and generous enough to have done it just for him--and, oh\nCecil, I wish I might repay you as you deserve--as you would wish.\"\n\n\"Why can't you, Jane?\"\n\n\"Because I love another.\"\n\n\"Canler?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"But you are going to marry him.  He told me as much before I left\nBaltimore.\"\n\nThe girl winced.\n\n\"I do not love him,\" she said, almost proudly.\n\n\"Is it because of the money, Jane?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"Then am I so much less desirable than Canler?  I have money enough,\nand far more, for every need,\" he said bitterly.\n\n\"I do not love you, Cecil,\" she said, \"but I respect you.  If I must\ndisgrace myself by such a bargain with any man, I prefer that it be one\nI already despise.  I should loathe the man to whom I sold myself\nwithout love, whomsoever he might be.  You will be happier,\" she\nconcluded, \"alone--with my respect and friendship, than with me and my\ncontempt.\"\n\nHe did not press the matter further, but if ever a man had murder in\nhis heart it was William Cecil Clayton, Lord Greystoke, when, a week\nlater, Robert Canler drew up before the farmhouse in his purring six\ncylinder.\n\nA week passed; a tense, uneventful, but uncomfortable week for all the\ninmates of the little Wisconsin farmhouse.\n\nCanler was insistent that Jane marry him at once.\n\nAt length she gave in from sheer loathing of the continued and hateful\nimportuning.\n\nIt was agreed that on the morrow Canler was to drive to town and bring\nback the license and a minister.\n\nClayton had wanted to leave as soon as the plan was announced, but the\ngirl's tired, hopeless look kept him.  He could not desert her.\n\nSomething might happen yet, he tried to console himself by thinking.\nAnd in his heart, he knew that it would require but a tiny spark to\nturn his hatred for Canler into the blood lust of the killer.\n\nEarly the next morning Canler set out for town.\n\nIn the east smoke could be seen lying low over the forest, for a fire\nhad been raging for a week not far from them, but the wind still lay in\nthe west and no danger threatened them.\n\nAbout noon Jane started off for a walk.  She would not let Clayton\naccompany her.  She wanted to be alone, she said, and he respected her\nwishes.\n\nIn the house Professor Porter and Mr. Philander were immersed in an\nabsorbing discussion of some weighty scientific problem.  Esmeralda\ndozed in the kitchen, and Clayton, heavy-eyed after a sleepless night,\nthrew himself down upon the couch in the living room and soon dropped\ninto a fitful slumber.\n\nTo the east the black smoke clouds rose higher into the heavens,\nsuddenly they eddied, and then commenced to drift rapidly toward the\nwest.\n\nOn and on they came.  The inmates of the tenant house were gone, for it\nwas market day, and none was there to see the rapid approach of the\nfiery demon.\n\nSoon the flames had spanned the road to the south and cut off Canler's\nreturn.  A little fluctuation of the wind now carried the path of the\nforest fire to the north, then blew back and the flames nearly stood\nstill as though held in leash by some master hand.\n\nSuddenly, out of the northeast, a great black car came careening down\nthe road.\n\nWith a jolt it stopped before the cottage, and a black-haired giant\nleaped out to run up onto the porch.  Without a pause he rushed into\nthe house.  On the couch lay Clayton.  The man started in surprise, but\nwith a bound was at the side of the sleeping man.\n\nShaking him roughly by the shoulder, he cried:\n\n\"My God, Clayton, are you all mad here?  Don't you know you are nearly\nsurrounded by fire?  Where is Miss Porter?\"\n\nClayton sprang to his feet.  He did not recognize the man, but he\nunderstood the words and was upon the veranda in a bound.\n\n\"Scott!\" he cried, and then, dashing back into the house, \"Jane!  Jane!\nwhere are you?\"\n\nIn an instant Esmeralda, Professor Porter and Mr. Philander had joined\nthe two men.\n\n\"Where is Miss Jane?\" cried Clayton, seizing Esmeralda by the shoulders\nand shaking her roughly.\n\n\"Oh, Gaberelle, Mister Clayton, she done gone for a walk.\"\n\n\"Hasn't she come back yet?\" and, without waiting for a reply, Clayton\ndashed out into the yard, followed by the others.  \"Which way did she\ngo?\" cried the black-haired giant of Esmeralda.\n\n\"Down that road,\" cried the frightened woman, pointing toward the south\nwhere a mighty wall of roaring flames shut out the view.\n\n\"Put these people in the other car,\" shouted the stranger to Clayton.\n\"I saw one as I drove up--and get them out of here by the north road.\n\n\"Leave my car here.  If I find Miss Porter we shall need it.  If I\ndon't, no one will need it.  Do as I say,\" as Clayton hesitated, and\nthen they saw the lithe figure bound away cross the clearing toward the\nnorthwest where the forest still stood, untouched by flame.\n\nIn each rose the unaccountable feeling that a great responsibility had\nbeen raised from their shoulders; a kind of implicit confidence in the\npower of the stranger to save Jane if she could be saved.\n\n\"Who was that?\" asked Professor Porter.\n\n\"I do not know,\" replied Clayton.  \"He called me by name and he knew\nJane, for he asked for her.  And he called Esmeralda by name.\"\n\n\"There was something most startlingly familiar about him,\" exclaimed\nMr. Philander, \"And yet, bless me, I know I never saw him before.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut!\" cried Professor Porter.  \"Most remarkable!  Who could it\nhave been, and why do I feel that Jane is safe, now that he has set out\nin search of her?\"\n\n\"I can't tell you, Professor,\" said Clayton soberly, \"but I know I have\nthe same uncanny feeling.\"\n\n\"But come,\" he cried, \"we must get out of here ourselves, or we shall\nbe shut off,\" and the party hastened toward Clayton's car.\n\nWhen Jane turned to retrace her steps homeward, she was alarmed to note\nhow near the smoke of the forest fire seemed, and as she hastened\nonward her alarm became almost a panic when she perceived that the\nrushing flames were rapidly forcing their way between herself and the\ncottage.\n\nAt length she was compelled to turn into the dense thicket and attempt\nto force her way to the west in an effort to circle around the flames\nand reach the house.\n\nIn a short time the futility of her attempt became apparent and then\nher one hope lay in retracing her steps to the road and flying for her\nlife to the south toward the town.\n\nThe twenty minutes that it took her to regain the road was all that had\nbeen needed to cut off her retreat as effectually as her advance had\nbeen cut off before.\n\nA short run down the road brought her to a horrified stand, for there\nbefore her was another wall of flame.  An arm of the main conflagration\nhad shot out a half mile south of its parent to embrace this tiny strip\nof road in its implacable clutches.\n\nJane knew that it was useless again to attempt to force her way through\nthe undergrowth.\n\nShe had tried it once, and failed.  Now she realized that it would be\nbut a matter of minutes ere the whole space between the north and the\nsouth would be a seething mass of billowing flames.\n\nCalmly the girl kneeled down in the dust of the roadway and prayed for\nstrength to meet her fate bravely, and for the delivery of her father\nand her friends from death.\n\nSuddenly she heard her name being called aloud through the forest:\n\n\"Jane!  Jane Porter!\"  It rang strong and clear, but in a strange voice.\n\n\"Here!\" she called in reply.  \"Here!  In the roadway!\"\n\nThen through the branches of the trees she saw a figure swinging with\nthe speed of a squirrel.\n\nA veering of the wind blew a cloud of smoke about them and she could no\nlonger see the man who was speeding toward her, but suddenly she felt a\ngreat arm about her.  Then she was lifted up, and she felt the rushing\nof the wind and the occasional brush of a branch as she was borne along.\n\nShe opened her eyes.\n\nFar below her lay the undergrowth and the hard earth.\n\nAbout her was the waving foliage of the forest.\n\nFrom tree to tree swung the giant figure which bore her, and it seemed\nto Jane that she was living over in a dream the experience that had\nbeen hers in that far African jungle.\n\nOh, if it were but the same man who had borne her so swiftly through\nthe tangled verdure on that other day! but that was impossible!  Yet\nwho else in all the world was there with the strength and agility to do\nwhat this man was now doing?\n\nShe stole a sudden glance at the face close to hers, and then she gave\na little frightened gasp.  It was he!\n\n\"My forest man!\" she murmured.  \"No, I must be delirious!\"\n\n\"Yes, your man, Jane Porter.  Your savage, primeval man come out of the\njungle to claim his mate--the woman who ran away from him,\" he added\nalmost fiercely.\n\n\"I did not run away,\" she whispered.  \"I would only consent to leave\nwhen they had waited a week for you to return.\"\n\nThey had come to a point beyond the fire now, and he had turned back to\nthe clearing.\n\nSide by side they were walking toward the cottage.  The wind had\nchanged once more and the fire was burning back upon itself--another\nhour like that and it would be burned out.\n\n\"Why did you not return?\" she asked.\n\n\"I was nursing D'Arnot.  He was badly wounded.\"\n\n\"Ah, I knew it!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"They said you had gone to join the blacks--that they were your people.\"\n\nHe laughed.\n\n\"But you did not believe them, Jane?\"\n\n\"No;--what shall I call you?\" she asked.  \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"I was Tarzan of the Apes when you first knew me,\" he said.\n\n\"Tarzan of the Apes!\" she cried--\"and that was your note I answered\nwhen I left?\"\n\n\"Yes, whose did you think it was?\"\n\n\"I did not know; only that it could not be yours, for Tarzan of the\nApes had written in English, and you could not understand a word of any\nlanguage.\"\n\nAgain he laughed.\n\n\"It is a long story, but it was I who wrote what I could not speak--and\nnow D'Arnot has made matters worse by teaching me to speak French\ninstead of English.\n\n\"Come,\" he added, \"jump into my car, we must overtake your father, they\nare only a little way ahead.\"\n\nAs they drove along, he said:\n\n\"Then when you said in your note to Tarzan of the Apes that you loved\nanother--you might have meant me?\"\n\n\"I might have,\" she answered, simply.\n\n\"But in Baltimore--Oh, how I have searched for you--they told me you\nwould possibly be married by now.  That a man named Canler had come up\nhere to wed you.  Is that true?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Do you love him?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Do you love me?\"\n\nShe buried her face in her hands.\n\n\"I am promised to another.  I cannot answer you, Tarzan of the Apes,\"\nshe cried.\n\n\"You have answered.  Now, tell me why you would marry one you do not\nlove.\"\n\n\"My father owes him money.\"\n\nSuddenly there came back to Tarzan the memory of the letter he had\nread--and the name Robert Canler and the hinted trouble which he had\nbeen unable to understand then.\n\nHe smiled.\n\n\"If your father had not lost the treasure you would not feel forced to\nkeep your promise to this man Canler?\"\n\n\"I could ask him to release me.\"\n\n\"And if he refused?\"\n\n\"I have given my promise.\"\n\nHe was silent for a moment.  The car was plunging along the uneven road\nat a reckless pace, for the fire showed threateningly at their right,\nand another change of the wind might sweep it on with raging fury\nacross this one avenue of escape.\n\nFinally they passed the danger point, and Tarzan reduced their speed.\n\n\"Suppose I should ask him?\" ventured Tarzan.\n\n\"He would scarcely accede to the demand of a stranger,\" said the girl.\n\"Especially one who wanted me himself.\"\n\n\"Terkoz did,\" said Tarzan, grimly.\n\nJane shuddered and looked fearfully up at the giant figure beside her,\nfor she knew that he meant the great anthropoid he had killed in her\ndefense.\n\n\"This is not the African jungle,\" she said.  \"You are no longer a\nsavage beast.  You are a gentleman, and gentlemen do not kill in cold\nblood.\"\n\n\"I am still a wild beast at heart,\" he said, in a low voice, as though\nto himself.\n\nAgain they were silent for a time.\n\n\"Jane,\" said the man, at length, \"if you were free, would you marry me?\"\n\nShe did not reply at once, but he waited patiently.\n\nThe girl was trying to collect her thoughts.\n\nWhat did she know of this strange creature at her side?  What did he\nknow of himself?  Who was he?  Who, his parents?\n\nWhy, his very name echoed his mysterious origin and his savage life.\n\nHe had no name.  Could she be happy with this jungle waif?  Could she\nfind anything in common with a husband whose life had been spent in the\ntree tops of an African wilderness, frolicking and fighting with fierce\nanthropoids; tearing his food from the quivering flank of fresh-killed\nprey, sinking his strong teeth into raw flesh, and tearing away his\nportion while his mates growled and fought about him for their share?\n\nCould he ever rise to her social sphere?  Could she bear to think of\nsinking to his?  Would either be happy in such a horrible misalliance?\n\n\"You do not answer,\" he said.  \"Do you shrink from wounding me?\"\n\n\"I do not know what answer to make,\" said Jane sadly.  \"I do not know\nmy own mind.\"\n\n\"You do not love me, then?\" he asked, in a level tone.\n\n\"Do not ask me.  You will be happier without me.  You were never meant\nfor the formal restrictions and conventionalities of\nsociety--civilization would become irksome to you, and in a little\nwhile you would long for the freedom of your old life--a life to which\nI am as totally unfitted as you to mine.\"\n\n\"I think I understand you,\" he replied quietly.  \"I shall not urge you,\nfor I would rather see you happy than to be happy myself.  I see now\nthat you could not be happy with--an ape.\"\n\nThere was just the faintest tinge of bitterness in his voice.\n\n\"Don't,\" she remonstrated.  \"Don't say that.  You do not understand.\"\n\nBut before she could go on a sudden turn in the road brought them into\nthe midst of a little hamlet.\n\nBefore them stood Clayton's car surrounded by the party he had brought\nfrom the cottage.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXVIII\n\nConclusion\n\n\nAt the sight of Jane, cries of relief and delight broke from every lip,\nand as Tarzan's car stopped beside the other, Professor Porter caught\nhis daughter in his arms.\n\nFor a moment no one noticed Tarzan, sitting silently in his seat.\n\nClayton was the first to remember, and, turning, held out his hand.\n\n\"How can we ever thank you?\" he exclaimed.  \"You have saved us all.\nYou called me by name at the cottage, but I do not seem to recall\nyours, though there is something very familiar about you.  It is as\nthough I had known you well under very different conditions a long time\nago.\"\n\nTarzan smiled as he took the proffered hand.\n\n\"You are quite right, Monsieur Clayton,\" he said, in French.  \"You will\npardon me if I do not speak to you in English.  I am just learning it,\nand while I understand it fairly well I speak it very poorly.\"\n\n\"But who are you?\" insisted Clayton, speaking in French this time\nhimself.\n\n\"Tarzan of the Apes.\"\n\nClayton started back in surprise.\n\n\"By Jove!\" he exclaimed.  \"It is true.\"\n\nAnd Professor Porter and Mr. Philander pressed forward to add their\nthanks to Clayton's, and to voice their surprise and pleasure at seeing\ntheir jungle friend so far from his savage home.\n\nThe party now entered the modest little hostelry, where Clayton soon\nmade arrangements for their entertainment.\n\nThey were sitting in the little, stuffy parlor when the distant\nchugging of an approaching automobile caught their attention.\n\nMr. Philander, who was sitting near the window, looked out as the car\ndrew in sight, finally stopping beside the other automobiles.\n\n\"Bless me!\" said Mr. Philander, a shade of annoyance in his tone.  \"It\nis Mr. Canler.  I had hoped, er--I had thought or--er--how very happy\nwe should be that he was not caught in the fire,\" he ended lamely.\n\n\"Tut, tut!  Mr. Philander,\" said Professor Porter.  \"Tut, tut!  I have\noften admonished my pupils to count ten before speaking.  Were I you,\nMr. Philander, I should count at least a thousand, and then maintain a\ndiscreet silence.\"\n\n\"Bless me, yes!\" acquiesced Mr. Philander.  \"But who is the clerical\nappearing gentleman with him?\"\n\nJane blanched.\n\nClayton moved uneasily in his chair.\n\nProfessor Porter removed his spectacles nervously, and breathed upon\nthem, but replaced them on his nose without wiping.\n\nThe ubiquitous Esmeralda grunted.\n\nOnly Tarzan did not comprehend.\n\nPresently Robert Canler burst into the room.\n\n\"Thank God!\" he cried.  \"I feared the worst, until I saw your car,\nClayton.  I was cut off on the south road and had to go away back to\ntown, and then strike east to this road.  I thought we'd never reach\nthe cottage.\"\n\nNo one seemed to enthuse much.  Tarzan eyed Robert Canler as Sabor eyes\nher prey.\n\nJane glanced at him and coughed nervously.\n\n\"Mr. Canler,\" she said, \"this is Monsieur Tarzan, an old friend.\"\n\nCanler turned and extended his hand.  Tarzan rose and bowed as only\nD'Arnot could have taught a gentleman to do it, but he did not seem to\nsee Canler's hand.\n\nNor did Canler appear to notice the oversight.\n\n\"This is the Reverend Mr. Tousley, Jane,\" said Canler, turning to the\nclerical party behind him.  \"Mr. Tousley, Miss Porter.\"\n\nMr. Tousley bowed and beamed.\n\nCanler introduced him to the others.\n\n\"We can have the ceremony at once, Jane,\" said Canler.  \"Then you and I\ncan catch the midnight train in town.\"\n\nTarzan understood the plan instantly.  He glanced out of half-closed\neyes at Jane, but he did not move.\n\nThe girl hesitated.  The room was tense with the silence of taut nerves.\n\nAll eyes turned toward Jane, awaiting her reply.\n\n\"Can't we wait a few days?\" she asked.  \"I am all unstrung.  I have\nbeen through so much today.\"\n\nCanler felt the hostility that emanated from each member of the party.\nIt made him angry.\n\n\"We have waited as long as I intend to wait,\" he said roughly.  \"You\nhave promised to marry me.  I shall be played with no longer.  I have\nthe license and here is the preacher.  Come Mr. Tousley; come Jane.\nThere are plenty of witnesses--more than enough,\" he added with a\ndisagreeable inflection; and taking Jane Porter by the arm, he started\nto lead her toward the waiting minister.\n\nBut scarcely had he taken a single step ere a heavy hand closed upon\nhis arm with a grip of steel.\n\nAnother hand shot to his throat and in a moment he was being shaken\nhigh above the floor, as a cat might shake a mouse.\n\nJane turned in horrified surprise toward Tarzan.\n\nAnd, as she looked into his face, she saw the crimson band upon his\nforehead that she had seen that other day in far distant Africa, when\nTarzan of the Apes had closed in mortal combat with the great\nanthropoid--Terkoz.\n\nShe knew that murder lay in that savage heart, and with a little cry of\nhorror she sprang forward to plead with the ape-man. But her fears were\nmore for Tarzan than for Canler.  She realized the stern retribution\nwhich justice metes to the murderer.\n\nBefore she could reach them, however, Clayton had jumped to Tarzan's\nside and attempted to drag Canler from his grasp.\n\nWith a single sweep of one mighty arm the Englishman was hurled across\nthe room, and then Jane laid a firm white hand upon Tarzan's wrist, and\nlooked up into his eyes.\n\n\"For my sake,\" she said.\n\nThe grasp upon Canler's throat relaxed.\n\nTarzan looked down into the beautiful face before him.\n\n\"Do you wish this to live?\" he asked in surprise.\n\n\"I do not wish him to die at your hands, my friend,\" she replied.  \"I\ndo not wish you to become a murderer.\"\n\nTarzan removed his hand from Canler's throat.\n\n\"Do you release her from her promise?\" he asked.  \"It is the price of\nyour life.\"\n\nCanler, gasping for breath, nodded.\n\n\"Will you go away and never molest her further?\"\n\nAgain the man nodded his head, his face distorted by fear of the death\nthat had been so close.\n\nTarzan released him, and Canler staggered toward the door.  In another\nmoment he was gone, and the terror-stricken preacher with him.\n\nTarzan turned toward Jane.\n\n\"May I speak with you for a moment, alone,\" he asked.\n\nThe girl nodded and started toward the door leading to the narrow\nveranda of the little hotel.  She passed out to await Tarzan and so did\nnot hear the conversation which followed.\n\n\"Wait,\" cried Professor Porter, as Tarzan was about to follow.\n\nThe professor had been stricken dumb with surprise by the rapid\ndevelopments of the past few minutes.\n\n\"Before we go further, sir, I should like an explanation of the events\nwhich have just transpired.  By what right, sir, did you interfere\nbetween my daughter and Mr. Canler?  I had promised him her hand, sir,\nand regardless of our personal likes or dislikes, sir, that promise\nmust be kept.\"\n\n\"I interfered, Professor Porter,\" replied Tarzan, \"because your\ndaughter does not love Mr. Canler--she does not wish to marry him.\nThat is enough for me to know.\"\n\n\"You do not know what you have done,\" said Professor Porter.  \"Now he\nwill doubtless refuse to marry her.\"\n\n\"He most certainly will,\" said Tarzan, emphatically.\n\n\"And further,\" added Tarzan, \"you need not fear that your pride will\nsuffer, Professor Porter, for you will be able to pay the Canler person\nwhat you owe him the moment you reach home.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, sir!\" exclaimed Professor Porter.  \"What do you mean, sir?\"\n\n\"Your treasure has been found,\" said Tarzan.\n\n\"What--what is that you are saying?\" cried the professor.  \"You are\nmad, man.  It cannot be.\"\n\n\"It is, though.  It was I who stole it, not knowing either its value or\nto whom it belonged.  I saw the sailors bury it, and, ape-like, I had\nto dig it up and bury it again elsewhere.  When D'Arnot told me what it\nwas and what it meant to you I returned to the jungle and recovered it.\nIt had caused so much crime and suffering and sorrow that D'Arnot\nthought it best not to attempt to bring the treasure itself on here, as\nhad been my intention, so I have brought a letter of credit instead.\n\n\"Here it is, Professor Porter,\" and Tarzan drew an envelope from his\npocket and handed it to the astonished professor, \"two hundred and\nforty-one thousand dollars.  The treasure was most carefully appraised\nby experts, but lest there should be any question in your mind, D'Arnot\nhimself bought it and is holding it for you, should you prefer the\ntreasure to the credit.\"\n\n\"To the already great burden of the obligations we owe you, sir,\" said\nProfessor Porter, with trembling voice, \"is now added this greatest of\nall services.  You have given me the means to save my honor.\"\n\nClayton, who had left the room a moment after Canler, now returned.\n\n\"Pardon me,\" he said.  \"I think we had better try to reach town before\ndark and take the first train out of this forest.  A native just rode\nby from the north, who reports that the fire is moving slowly in this\ndirection.\"\n\nThis announcement broke up further conversation, and the entire party\nwent out to the waiting automobiles.\n\nClayton, with Jane, the professor and Esmeralda occupied Clayton's car,\nwhile Tarzan took Mr. Philander in with him.\n\n\"Bless me!\" exclaimed Mr. Philander, as the car moved off after\nClayton.  \"Who would ever have thought it possible!  The last time I\nsaw you you were a veritable wild man, skipping about among the\nbranches of a tropical African forest, and now you are driving me along\na Wisconsin road in a French automobile.  Bless me!  But it is most\nremarkable.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" assented Tarzan, and then, after a pause, \"Mr. Philander, do you\nrecall any of the details of the finding and burying of three skeletons\nfound in my cabin beside that African jungle?\"\n\n\"Very distinctly, sir, very distinctly,\" replied Mr. Philander.\n\n\"Was there anything peculiar about any of those skeletons?\"\n\nMr. Philander eyed Tarzan narrowly.\n\n\"Why do you ask?\"\n\n\"It means a great deal to me to know,\" replied Tarzan.  \"Your answer\nmay clear up a mystery.  It can do no worse, at any rate, than to leave\nit still a mystery.  I have been entertaining a theory concerning those\nskeletons for the past two months, and I want you to answer my question\nto the best of your knowledge--were the three skeletons you buried all\nhuman skeletons?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Mr. Philander, \"the smallest one, the one found in the crib,\nwas the skeleton of an anthropoid ape.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Tarzan.\n\nIn the car ahead, Jane was thinking fast and furiously.  She had felt\nthe purpose for which Tarzan had asked a few words with her, and she\nknew that she must be prepared to give him an answer in the very near\nfuture.\n\nHe was not the sort of person one could put off, and somehow that very\nthought made her wonder if she did not really fear him.\n\nAnd could she love where she feared?\n\nShe realized the spell that had been upon her in the depths of that\nfar-off jungle, but there was no spell of enchantment now in prosaic\nWisconsin.\n\nNor did the immaculate young Frenchman appeal to the primal woman in\nher, as had the stalwart forest god.\n\nDid she love him?  She did not know--now.\n\nShe glanced at Clayton out of the corner of her eye.  Was not here a\nman trained in the same school of environment in which she had been\ntrained--a man with social position and culture such as she had been\ntaught to consider as the prime essentials to congenial association?\n\nDid not her best judgment point to this young English nobleman, whose\nlove she knew to be of the sort a civilized woman should crave, as the\nlogical mate for such as herself?\n\nCould she love Clayton?  She could see no reason why she could not.\nJane was not coldly calculating by nature, but training, environment\nand heredity had all combined to teach her to reason even in matters of\nthe heart.\n\nThat she had been carried off her feet by the strength of the young\ngiant when his great arms were about her in the distant African forest,\nand again today, in the Wisconsin woods, seemed to her only\nattributable to a temporary mental reversion to type on her part--to\nthe psychological appeal of the primeval man to the primeval woman in\nher nature.\n\nIf he should never touch her again, she reasoned, she would never feel\nattracted toward him.  She had not loved him, then.  It had been\nnothing more than a passing hallucination, super-induced by excitement\nand by personal contact.\n\nExcitement would not always mark their future relations, should she\nmarry him, and the power of personal contact eventually would be dulled\nby familiarity.\n\nAgain she glanced at Clayton.  He was very handsome and every inch a\ngentleman.  She should be very proud of such a husband.\n\nAnd then he spoke--a minute sooner or a minute later might have made\nall the difference in the world to three lives--but chance stepped in\nand pointed out to Clayton the psychological moment.\n\n\"You are free now, Jane,\" he said.  \"Won't you say yes--I will devote\nmy life to making you very happy.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she whispered.\n\nThat evening in the little waiting room at the station Tarzan caught\nJane alone for a moment.\n\n\"You are free now, Jane,\" he said, \"and _I_ have come across the ages\nout of the dim and distant past from the lair of the primeval man to\nclaim you--for your sake I have become a civilized man--for your sake I\nhave crossed oceans and continents--for your sake I will be whatever\nyou will me to be.  I can make you happy, Jane, in the life you know\nand love best.  Will you marry me?\"\n\nFor the first time she realized the depths of the man's love--all that\nhe had accomplished in so short a time solely for love of her.  Turning\nher head she buried her face in her arms.\n\nWhat had she done?  Because she had been afraid she might succumb to\nthe pleas of this giant, she had burned her bridges behind her--in her\ngroundless apprehension that she might make a terrible mistake, she had\nmade a worse one.\n\nAnd then she told him all--told him the truth word by word, without\nattempting to shield herself or condone her error.\n\n\"What can we do?\" he asked.  \"You have admitted that you love me.  You\nknow that I love you; but I do not know the ethics of society by which\nyou are governed.  I shall leave the decision to you, for you know best\nwhat will be for your eventual welfare.\"\n\n\"I cannot tell him, Tarzan,\" she said.  \"He too, loves me, and he is a\ngood man.  I could never face you nor any other honest person if I\nrepudiated my promise to Mr. Clayton.  I shall have to keep it--and you\nmust help me bear the burden, though we may not see each other again\nafter tonight.\"\n\nThe others were entering the room now and Tarzan turned toward the\nlittle window.\n\nBut he saw nothing outside--within he saw a patch of greensward\nsurrounded by a matted mass of gorgeous tropical plants and flowers,\nand, above, the waving foliage of mighty trees, and, over all, the blue\nof an equatorial sky.\n\nIn the center of the greensward a young woman sat upon a little mound\nof earth, and beside her sat a young giant.  They ate pleasant fruit\nand looked into each other's eyes and smiled.  They were very happy,\nand they were all alone.\n\nHis thoughts were broken in upon by the station agent who entered\nasking if there was a gentleman by the name of Tarzan in the party.\n\n\"I am Monsieur Tarzan,\" said the ape-man.\n\n\"Here is a message for you, forwarded from Baltimore; it is a cablegram\nfrom Paris.\"\n\nTarzan took the envelope and tore it open.  The message was from\nD'Arnot.\n\nIt read:\n\n\nFingerprints prove you Greystoke.  Congratulations.\n                                      D'ARNOT.\n\n\nAs Tarzan finished reading, Clayton entered and came toward him with\nextended hand.\n\nHere was the man who had Tarzan's title, and Tarzan's estates, and was\ngoing to marry the woman whom Tarzan loved--the woman who loved Tarzan.\nA single word from Tarzan would make a great difference in this man's\nlife.\n\nIt would take away his title and his lands and his castles, and--it\nwould take them away from Jane Porter also.  \"I say, old man,\" cried\nClayton, \"I haven't had a chance to thank you for all you've done for\nus.  It seems as though you had your hands full saving our lives in\nAfrica and here.\n\n\"I'm awfully glad you came on here.  We must get better acquainted.  I\noften thought about you, you know, and the remarkable circumstances of\nyour environment.\n\n\"If it's any of my business, how the devil did you ever get into that\nbally jungle?\"\n\n\"I was born there,\" said Tarzan, quietly.  \"My mother was an Ape, and\nof course she couldn't tell me much about it.  I never knew who my\nfather was.\"\n\n\n                  FOR THE\n      FURTHER ADVENTURES OF LORD GREYSTOKE\n          READ THE RETURN OF TARZAN"