Part 1 (2/2)

Immediately, Tarzan was alert. He lifted his head and sniffed the slow, jungle breeze. .What was it that had attracted Numa's attention and taken him soft-footed and silent away from the scene of his discomfiture? Just as the lion disappeared among the trees beyond the clearing, Tarzan caught upon the downcoming wind the explanation of his new interest - the scent spoor of man was wafted strongly to his sensitive nostrils.

Caching the remainder of the deer's hindquarters in the crotch of a tree, the ape-man wiped his greasy palms upon his naked thighs and swung off in pursuit of Numa. A broad, well-beaten elephant path led into the forest from the clearing. Parallel to this slung Numa, while above him Tarzan moved through the trees, the shadow of a wraith. The savage cat and the savage man saw Numa's quarry almost simultaneously, though both had known before it came within the vision of their eyes that it was a black man. Their sensitive nostrils had told them this much, and Tarzan's had told him that the scent spoor was that of a strange-old and a male, for race and age and s.e.x each has its ,own distinctive scent.

It was an old man that made his way alone through the gloomy jungle, a wrinkled, dried-up little old man hideously scarred and tattooed and strangely garbed, with the skin of a hyena about his shoulders and the dried head mounted upon his pate. Tarzan recognized the earmarks of the witch doctor and awaited Numa's charge with a feeling of pleasurable antic.i.p.ation, for the ape-man had no love for witch doctors; but at the instant that Numa did charge, the white man suddenly recalled that Numa had stolen his kill a few moments before, and revenge is sweet.

The first intimation the black man had that he was in danger was the crash of twigs as Numa charged through the bushes into the game trail not twenty yards behind him. He turned to see a huge, black-maned lion racing toward him, and even as he turned, Numa seized him. At the same instant, the ape-man dropped from an over-hanging limb full upon the lion's back and as he alighted he plunged his knife into the tawny side behind the left shoulder, tangled the fingers of his right hand into the long mane, buried his teeth in Numa's neck and wound his powerful legs about the beast's torso. With a roar of rage and pain, Numa reared up and fell back on the ape-man; stilly the mighty man-thing clung to his hold and repeatedly the long knife plunged into his side. Over and over rolled Numa, the lion, clawing and biting at the air, roaring and growling horribly in a savage attempt to reach the thing upon its back. More than once was Tarzan almost brushed from his hold. He was battered and bruised and covered with blood from Numa and dirt from the trail, yet not for an instant did he lessen the ferocity of his attack nor his grim hold upon his antagonist. To have loosened his grip for an instant would have been to bring him into reach 'of those tearing talons or rending fangs, and have ended forever the grim career of this jungle-bred English lord.

Where he had fallen beneath the spring of the lion the witch doctor lay, torn and bleeding, unable to drag himself away, and watched the terrific battle between these two lords of the jungle. His sunken eyes glittered and his wrinkled lips moved ever toothless gums as he mumbled weird incantations to the demons of his cult.

For a time he felt no doubt as to the outcome- the strange white man must certainly succ.u.mb to terrible Simba - whoever heard of a lone man armed with only a knife slaying so mighty a beast! Yet presently the old black man's eyes went wider and he commenced to have his doubts and misgivings. What wonderful sort of creature was this that battled with Simba and held his own despite the mighty muscles of the king of beasts? Slowly, there dawned in those sunken eyes, gleaming so brightly from the scarred and wrinkled face, the light of a dawning recollection. Gropingly back into the past reached the fingers of memory until at last they seized upon a faint picture, faded and yellow with the pa.s.sing years.

It was the picture of a lithe, white-skinned youth swinging through the trees in company with a band of huge apes, and the old eyes blinked and a great fear came into them - the superst.i.tious fear of one who believes in ghosts and spirits and demons.

And came the time once more when the witch doctor no longer doubted the outcome of the duel, yet his first judgment was reversed. Now he knew the jungle G.o.d would slay Simba and the old black was even more terrified of his own impending fate at the hands of the victor than he had been by the sure and sudden death which the triumphant lion would have meted out to him.

He saw the lion weaken from loss of blood. He saw the mighty limbs tremble and stagger and at last he saw the great beast sink down to rise no more. He saw the forest G.o.d or demon rise from the vanquished foe, and placing afoot upon the still quivering carca.s.s, raise his face to the moon and bay out a hideous cry that froze the ebbing blood in the veins of the witch doctor.

Now Tarzan turned his attention to the old man. He had not slain Numa to save the witch doctor - he had done it merely in revenge upon the lion. But now that he saw the old man lying helpless and dying before him, something akin to pity touched his savage heart. In his youth he would have slain the witch doctor without the slightest compunction, but civilization had had ascertain softening effect on him, even as it does upon the nations and races which it touches, although Tarzan was certainly neither cowardly or effeminate. He saw an old man dying, and stooped to feel of the wounds and stanch the flow of blood.

”Who are you? ” he was asked in a trembling voice.

”Tarzan. Tarzan of the Apes,” said the ape-man, not without pride, for it was a proud t.i.tle in the jungle.

The witch doctor shuddered, closed his eyes. When he opened them again there was in them a fatalistic realization that his death was imminent. ”Why do you not kill me?” he asked.

”Why should I?” Tarzan asked, in turn. ”Numa, the lion, has already killed you, old man.”

”You would not kill me?” There was surprise, even incredulity in the voice.

”I would save you if I could,” Tarzan said, ”but that cannot be done. Why did you think I would kill you?”

When the old man finally spoke, it was with some little effort to muster his courage. ”I knew you of old,” he said, ”when you ranged the jungle in the country of Mbonga, the chief. I was already a witch doctor when you slew Kulonga and the others and when you raided our village, robbed our huts and our poison pot. At first I did not remember you, but now I do. The white-skinned ape that lived with the hairy apes and made life miserable in the village of Mbonga, the chief. Before I die, tell me-are you man or devil?”

Tarzan laughed. ”I am a man,” he said.

The old fellow sighed and shook his head. ”You have tried to save me from Simba,” he said. ”For that I shall reward you. I am a great witch doctor.” He closed his eyes wearily, opened them after a moment. ”Listen to me, Tarzan. I see bad days ahead for you. It is writ in my own blood in the palm of my hand. A G.o.d even greater than you has come to the jungle, and will smite you down. Danger lies ahead of you, and danger lurks behind you. You laugh at this G.o.d? I have seen him. I have smelled him. Listen, now, to the jungle - you hear no night sounds? He is nearby. Hea” The old man fell back, stopped breathing. Tarzan thought of his words, raised his own head and listened. Where were the night sounds? The forest was ominously silent! Not a twig crackled, not a leaf rustled, not a rodent squeaked! Even the air seemed heavy, lifeless. Tarzan's instincts, the instincts of any wild beast, took over. Soundlessly, he leaped into a nearby tree, taking cover, every sense on the alert. He could not doubt the danger surrounding him, but until he knew exactly what it was he was making no bold, foolish foray against it. Undoubtedly the ”G.o.d” mentioned by the old witch doctor was somewhere in the area, attracted, if for no other reason, by the ape-man's horrible victory cry. So be it. Tarzan settled himself, loosened the knife in his holster, prepared to wait.

Now - did he hear something, or was that an illusion? He strained his ears, then suddenly knew he was very near the danger. An effluvia made a stench in his sensitive nostrils, a strange spoor, indeed, one the ape-man had never before encountered. He tensed, every muscle on the alert. Now there was a cautious, almost unheard crackle of bush across the clearing. Tarzan stared fixedly at the spot.

Jane Clayton and Leena, the hairy she-ape, had been traveling long. Now the s.h.a.ggy figure of Jane's companion halted, swinging on a bough. Jane was aware of Leena's indecision, but accepted the pause gratefully. A few moments' rest would be most welcome. The ape came slowly back along her tree ”path,” paused uncertainly, evidently trying to think of a way to convey a message of great importance to the white woman. She rolled her eyes uneasily, chose a well-concealed perch some feet higher in the giant tree they both occupied and, with little nudges and soft grunts, urged Jane to take shelter there. Having little choice in the matter, Jane complied. Leena indicated satisfaction, then quickly turned and started off by herself, turning just once to indicate that Jane was to stay there until the ape returned for her. Lady Greystoke waved rea.s.surance, then with little squirmings tried to make herself as comfortable as possible, comparing her present resting place unfavorably with her own comfortable bed at home. She sighed, knowing that her lord was somewhere out there in the jungle. She wondered how far they'd come, how much farther they must go to arrive at whatever mysterious destination the Great Apes had in mind. She realized that she couldn't stay in her present spot for an indefinite length of time. There was the very real danger, of which Tarzan had often warned her, that the easily-distracted apes might forget all about her. Also, she would need food and water soon. She realized that she was very thirsty already, from her long exertions in the trees.

She closed her eyes, wearily. If anything, the jungle was even more ominously quiet than before; but of course, she a.s.sured herself, that might just be her imagination. She hoped this silence didn't preclude a storm; that made tree-travel extremely difficult and slippery treacherous. She wrinkled her nose at a particularly unpleasant smell, concluded that there must be a dead beast on the ground nearby, then, bone-weary, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep. A long, mottled snake-like appendage crept up the trunk of the tree where she slept, obscenely seeking out her hiding place. She sighed in her sleep once, and it halted, abruptly, then continued its seeking slowly, silently. Its tip touched the bare thigh of its prey, recoiled slightly, then struck!

Chapter III.

”The Cold Rush”

TARZAN waited patiently in his vantage point, watching for further movement from the brush across the clearing, but none came. And presently, the cloying scent of decay thinned and finally vanished altogether. Whatever or whoever the new jungle ”G.o.d”' was, it had apparently no interest in what it had seen in the clearing, the corpse of an old black man and the body of a slain lion. Possibly it had tied the two together.

Tarzan cautiously worked his way through the trees around the clearing to the spot directly over which he'd heard the faint crackle of brush, but nothing remained to be seen or heard. He debated, then decided against tracking the creature this night. The gold was necessary and hence of the first importance. Once he'd removed his needs from Opar, perhaps he could spend a few days and nights establis.h.i.+ng exactly who or what this new creature was. As he started back to the boma, he noticed that the little jungle sounds had started up again. Behind him he heard the jittering laugh of a pair of hyenas as they moved into the free feast Tarzan had left behind in the clearing.

It was very late when Tarzan re-entered the boma and lay down among his black warriors. None had seen him go and none had seen him return.

He thought again about the warning of the old witch doctor before he fell asleep, and he thought about it again as he awoke, but he did not turn back. Despite the rather unnerving incidents of the night before, Tarzan was unafraid, although had he but known what lay ahead for the one he loved most in all the world he would have flown through the trees to her side (could he have but found her) and allowed the gold of Opar to remain forever hidden in Its forgotten storehouse.

Behind him that morning, yet another pondered what had been seen and heard through the night, greatly puzzled over the sound that had come from the tiny jungle clearing where he had discovered the body of the witch doctor (although he had no way of knowing that was what the black man was) and the lion. (And he had no way of knowing what that was, either!) Did all mortals in this jungle die with such screeching sounds upon their lips? He had heard the cry of the victorious bull-ape as Tarzan had streamed it forth from his lips in that moment of savage glory, and had trembled just a little. Yet, close investigation had convinced him that nothing more formidable than a meat eater and a very low life-form had together met their ends. Which was responsible for the sound?

No matter. He pressed on, his sinuous body slithering through the underbrush, taking to the trees from time to time. He felt a hunger, a need for living flesh, unsuspecting flesh, and knew it must be satisfied soon. He knew also .that the collection was not yet complete, and that he dare not return to the Silver Globe without it. For a moment, in a consciousness that was alien, not entirely human, nor yet entirely animal, he felt a dim regret that flesh of the dead would not satisfy his needs, for certainly this alien land abounded in such. He wondered dimly, where the others of his kind might be. He sent out a silent call, in the form of what he supposed to be an odorless scent, known only to those of his species. He received no answer, and wondered, for the tenth or twentieth time why the forest fell silent every time he did so.

And so Tarzan of the Apes forged steadily ahead toward Opar's ruined ramparts and behind him slunk the other. G.o.d only knew what lay in store for each.

At the edge of the desolate valley, overlooking the golden domes and minarets of Opar, Tarzan halted. By night he would go alone to the treasure vault, reconnoitering, for he had determined that caution should mark his every move upon this expedition. With the coming of night he set forth, and the other, the shadower, followed him, after a day of following among the forbidding cliffs and rough boulders. Was Tarzan prey or collector's item? The Follower was not sure. The boulder-strewn plain between the valley's edge and the mighty granite kopje outside the city's walls - where lay the pa.s.sageway leading to the treasure vault - gave the other, the Follower, ample cover as he followed Tarzan toward Opar.

He paused beside a shadowing boulder, watching with his several eyes as the giant ape-man swung himself nimbly up the cliff-face, then stealthily and silently - albeit a bit fearfully - followed. There were few holds, yet the Follower sought them out almost as nimbly as had Tarzan. At last the Follower stood upon the summit of the rocky hill, but his quarry had disappeared, and the Follower knew just a moment of fear. He crouched in concealment for a time, but, still seeing nothing of the ape-man, he crept from his place of concealment and began a systematic search of the surroundings. He knew nothing of Tarzan's objective, the gold, but only of his own, which was the Englishman himself. Shudders rippled down his skin.

The Follower realized, from an alien instinct, that he was very close to the Silver Globe, He knew, also, that punishment for failure would be swift, certain, terrible and agonizing. He clung desperately to the available shadows, knowing that much more exposure to sunlight would forever still his several reptilian hearts, if such they could be called. He felt very weak before he finally came upon the entrance which rapidly failing senses told him Tarzan had pa.s.sed but a short time before. The pa.s.sageway was cool, dark, inviting, yet he feared to enter. In his weakened condition, he might, be easy prey for the giant, and he was aware of this. He scuttled into the deep shadow of a large boulder and lay as patiently as might be, awaiting the return of the ape-man. He felt a tentacle commence to curl under the direct sunlight, and withdrew it hurriedly into the blessed shadow. With what would pa.s.s as a shuddering sigh among his kind, the Follower relaxed, waiting like some fat, loathsome spider for the return of his prey. He knew dimly that Tarzan was seeking ”something called ”gold,” but had no idea what this might be. Patience.

The ape-man, far ahead of his unknown pursuer, groped his way along the rocky pa.s.sage until he came to a door, an ancient wooden door. A moment later he stood within the treasure chamber where, ages ago, long-dead hands had ranged the lofty rows of precious ingots for the rulers of that great continent which now lies submerged beneath the waters of the Atlantic. Or so the legend goes.

No sound broke the stillness of the subterranean vault, nor was there any evidence that another had discovered the forgotten wealth since the ape-man had last visited its hiding place.

Tarzan was satisfied that all was secure, and, turning, retraced his steps toward the summit of the kopje. The Follower sensed his coming but was too weak to do anything but observe. The sun had crept higher, and with it, as the shadow of the rock shortened, had weakened the physical and mental strength of the mysterious creature that certainly was not native to Africa. Tarzan, unnoticing, pa.s.sed carelessly, and the Follower slipped gratefully into the darkened entry which the ape-man had just quitted, feeling the gratifying darkness and coolness of the pa.s.sage. It disappeared behind an outcropping of rock, regathering its strength. Blocked from communication with its fellows, it exuded no odors, which was just as well, for not only Tarzan but his warriors, as well, would have noticed the scent of which the beast was completely unaware.

Halting at the kopje's edge, Tarzan raised his voice in the thunderous roar of a lion. He repeated the call several times at regular intervals and stood in attentive silence for several minutes after the last had rolled away. Then, from far across the valley, came an answering roar. It was Basuli, the Waziri chieftain, who replied. Tarzan again made his way back to the entrance of the treasure vault, knowing that in a few hours or even less his trustworthy blacks would be with him, ready to carry away another fortune in the strangely-shaped ingots of purest gold from the treasure vaults. In the meantime, he decided, he would make the task both easier and faster by bringing as much of the precious metal to the surface himself as possible. Five times he made the trip to the vault, and five times the Follower half-reached for him, then thought better of it, trying to recoup and regain its strength. On the sixth trip, fifty warriors accompanied him, eager to get the treasure and leave this haunted area.

The Follower cowered in its deep shadow, unable to make a choice or even a move. Only one man in the world, the man they loved and trusted, could turn these fierce killers into porters, and somehow the Follower knew that its superhuman strength could not prevail against such a group. Even among the alien, discretion is almost always considered the better part of valor. The Follower observed, sensed, planned. And above all, remained discreet.

Altogether, a hundred ingots came from the vaults, which was all Tarzan planned on carrying with his little safari. As the last of the Waziri gladly left the treasure chamber, Tarzan turned for a last look. This was his fourth foray into the fabulous wealth, and his efforts had made no appreciable inroads on the vast heap of gold. There was much memory here, Tarzan recalled, as he held aloft the candle stub, the single light which served his purpose. He wondered who still ruled the city, if indeed any ruler was left. He glanced upwards, recalling that the crumbling walls of the city rested upon the top of this very treasure vault. All this and more Tarzan thought about, wondered about, then, with a shake of his head, extinguished the candle and followed his Waziri into the open air.

Behind him, the Follower waited for him to be gone. Burdened as the safari was, the Follower knew, somehow, that progress back to comparative safety and immunity would be difficult-and slow.

Tarzan closed the door. Behind him, the Follower flexed its sinews, feeling well-recovered, and picked up a gold ingot.

With incredible strength, it buried it away. it was poisonous to this strange being, burning its skin like acid!

The Follower forgot its unholy appet.i.te in the moment of anguish; the ingot, cras.h.i.+ng through the st.u.r.dy wooden door, plunged Tarzan into total forgetfulness of all things as it struck against his skull, driving him from his feet.

The beast below, soundlessly bellowing in pain and anguish, scuttled deeper into the tunnel. The ape-man lay unconscious, bleeding from a deep gash in his forehead.

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