TARZAN AND THE LION MAN

                         EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS

                            ACE BOOKS, INC.
                      1120 Avenue of the Americas
                           New York 36, N.Y.

       This Ace edition follows the text of the first hard-cover
              book edition, originally published in 1934.

      _Cover art and title-page illustration by Frank Frazetta._

                           Printed in U.S.A.




                    TWO TARZANS IN GORILLA COUNTRY


Tarzan moved stealthily in the trees high above a savage scene. The
tempo of the dance had increased. Painted warriors were leaping and
stamping around a small group that surrounded the prisoner. As Tarzan
gazed at the prisoner he experienced a shock.

It was as though his disembodied spirit hovered above and looked down
upon himself, so amazing was the likeness of this man to the Lord of
the Jungle.

Who was this man who looked so much like Tarzan as to startle even
Tarzan himself and what did he seek in the jungles of Africa?




                               FOREWORD


If ever Burroughs wrote a tongue-in-cheek Tarzan story, _Tarzan and the
Lion Man_ came closest. Several critics have commented that Burroughs
often satirized such things as religion, social customs and the like,
but it should also be noted that he was not above kidding himself and
his fellow men.

In Chapter 5, the suggestion is made that the motion picture hero go
out in front of the safari, and clear the way of marauding natives.
But the Lion Man is quick to reply that he'd "like to have the author
of that story" sent out instead. The Old Master must have smiled to
himself as he wrote that dialogue, for through his seventy-four years,
he never once set foot in Africa.

Burroughs was also continually pointing out that man is the only
creature that is cruel, vindictive, selfish, ambitious and treacherous,
while wild animals are not. This is blandly pointed out in the novel,
particularly in the latter portions of Chapter 25.

But the crowning satire of the whole novel, even overshadowing the
fabulous episode of the gorillas, are the last couple of chapters
dealing with Tarzan's visit to Hollywood, California. They concern the
casting of a new Tarzan film, and one John Clayton, Lord Greystoke,
Tarzan of the Apes himself. Upon being asked to try out for the part
of Tarzan, he is considered by the casting director as "not the type."
Truly, Burroughs must still be chuckling about that little scene.

                                              --CAMILLE CAZEDESSUS, JR.
                                           _Editor, ERB-dom, a magazine
                                   devoted to Burroughs and his works._




                                   I

                             IN CONFERENCE


Mr. Milton Smith, Executive Vice President in Charge of Production,
was in conference. A half dozen men lounged comfortably in deep, soft
chairs and divans about his large, well-appointed office in the B.O.
studio. Mr. Smith had a chair behind a big desk, but he seldom occupied
it. He was an imaginative, dramatic, dynamic person. He required
freedom and space in which to express himself. His large chair was too
small; so he paced about the office more often than he occupied his
chair, and his hands interpreted his thoughts quite as fluently as did
his tongue.

"It's bound to be a knock-out," he assured his listeners; "no synthetic
jungle, no faked sound effects, no toothless old lions that every
picture fan in the U. S. knows by their first names. No, sir! This will
be the real thing."

A secretary entered the room and closed the door behind her. "Mr. Orman
is here," she said.

"Good! Ask him to come in, please." Mr. Smith rubbed his palms together
and turned to the others. "Thinking of Orman was nothing less than an
inspiration," he exclaimed. "He's just the man to make this picture."

"Just another one of your inspirations, Chief," remarked one of the
men. "They've got to hand it to you."

Another, sitting next to the speaker, leaned closer to him. "I thought
you suggested Orman the other day," he whispered.

"I did," said the first man out of the corner of his mouth.

Again the door opened, and the secretary ushered in a stocky, bronzed
man who was greeted familiarly by all in the room. Smith advanced and
shook hands with him.

"Glad to see you, Tom," he said. "Haven't seen you since you got back
from Borneo. Great stuff you got down there. But I've got something
bigger still on the fire for you. You know the clean-up Superlative
Pictures made with their last jungle picture?"

"How could I help it; it's all I've heard since I got back. Now I
suppose everybody's goin' to make jungle pictures."

"Well, there are jungle pictures and jungle pictures. We're going to
make a real one. Every scene in that Superlative picture was shot
inside a radius of twenty-five miles from Hollywood except a few
African stock shots, and the sound effects--lousy!" Smith grimaced his
contempt.

"And where are we goin' to shoot?" inquired Orman; "fifty miles from
Hollywood?"

"No, sir! We're goin' to send a company right to the heart of Africa,
right to the--ah--er--what's the name of that forest, Joe?"

"The Ituri Forest."

"Yes, right to the Ituri Forest with sound equipment and everything.
Think of it, Tom! You get the real stuff, the real natives, the jungle,
the animals, the sounds. You 'shoot' a giraffe, and at the same time
you record the actual sound of his voice."

"You won't need much sound equipment for that, Milt."

"Why?"

"Giraffes don't make any sounds; they're supposed not to have any vocal
organs."

"Well, what of it? That was just an illustration. But take the other
animals for instance; lions, elephants, tigers--Joe's written in a
great tiger sequence. It's goin' to yank 'em right out of their seats."

"There ain't any tigers in Africa, Milt," explained the director.

"Who says there ain't?"

"I do," replied Orman, grinning.

"How about it, Joe?" Smith turned toward the scenarist.

"Well, Chief, you said you wanted a tiger sequence."

"Oh, what's the difference? We'll make it a crocodile sequence."

"And you want me to direct the picture?" asked Orman.

"Yes, and it will make you famous."

"I don't know about that, but I'm game--I ain't ever been to Africa. Is
it feasible to get sound trucks into Central Africa?"

"We're just having a conference to discuss the whole matter," replied
Smith. "We've asked Major White to sit in. I guess you men haven't
met--Mr. Orman, Major White," and as the two men shook hands Smith
continued. "The major's a famous big game hunter, knows Africa like a
book. He's to be technical advisor and go along with you."

"What do you think, Major, about our being able to get sound trucks
into the Ituri Forest?" asked Orman.

"What'll they weigh? I doubt that you can get anything across Africa
that weighs over a ton and a half."

"Ouch!" exclaimed Clarence Noice, the sound director. "Our sound trucks
weigh seven tons, and we're planning on taking two of them."

"It just can't be done," said the major.

"And how about the generator truck?" demanded Noice. "It weighs nine
tons."

The major threw up his hands. "Really, gentlemen, it's preposterous."

"Can you do it, Tom?" demanded Smith, and without waiting for a reply.
"You've got to do it."

"Sure I'll do it--if you want to foot the bills."

"Good!" exclaimed Smith. "Now that's settled let me tell you something
about the story. Joe's written a great story--it's goin' to be a
knock-out. You see this fellow's born in the jungle and brought up by a
lioness. He pals around with the lions all his life--doesn't know any
other friends. The lion is king of beasts; when the boy grows up he's
king of the lions; so he bosses the whole menagerie. See? Big shot of
the jungle."

"Sounds familiar," commented Orman.

"And then the girl comes in, and here's a great shot! She doesn't know
any one's around, and she's bathing in a jungle pool. Along comes
the Lion Man. He ain't ever seen a woman before. Can't you see the
possibilities, Tom? It's goin' to knock 'em cold." Smith was walking
around the room, acting out the scene. He was the girl bathing in the
pool in one corner of the room, and then he went to the opposite corner
and was the Lion Man. "Great, isn't it?" he demanded. "You've got to
hand it to Joe."

"Joe always was an original guy," said Orman. "Say, who you got to play
this Lion Man that's goin' to pal around with the lions? I hope he's
got the guts."

"Best ever, a regular find. He's got a physique that's goin' to have
all the girls goofy."

"Yes, them and their grandmothers," offered another conferee.

"Who is he?"

"He's the world's champion marathoner."

"Marathon dancer?"

"No, marathon runner."

"If I was playin' that part I'd rather be a sprinter than a distance
runner. What's his name?"

"Stanley Obroski."

"Stanley Obroski? Never heard of him."

"Well, he's famous nevertheless; and wait till you see him! He's sure
got 'It,' and I don't mean maybe."

"Can he act?" asked Orman.

"He don't have to act, but he looks great stripped--I'll run his tests
for you."

"Who else is in the cast?"

"The Madison's cast for lead opposite Obroski, and--"

"M-m-m, Naomi's plenty hot at 34 north; she'll probably melt at the
Equator."

"And Gordon Z. Marcus goes along as her father; he's a white trader."

"Think Marcus can stand it? He's getting along in years."

"Oh, he's rarin' to go. Major White, here, is taking the part of a
white hunter."

"I'm afraid," remarked the major, "that as an actor I'll prove to be an
excellent hunter."

"Oh, all you got to do is act natural. Don't worry."

"No, let the director worry," said the scenarist; "that's what he's
paid for."

"And rewrittin' bum continuity," retorted Orman. "But say, Milt,
gettin' back to Naomi. She's great in cabaret scenes and flaming youth
pictures, but when it comes to steppin' out with lions and elephants--I
don't know."

"We're sendin' Rhonda Terry along to double for her."

"Good! Rhonda'd go up and bite a lion on the wrist if a director told
her to; and she does look a lot like the Madison, come to think of it."

"Which is flatterin' the Madison, if any one asks me," commented the
scenarist.

"Which no one did," retorted Smith.

"And again, if any one asks me," continued Joe, "Rhonda can act circles
all around Madison. How some of these punks get where they are beats
me."

"And you hangin' around studios for the last ten years!" scoffed Orman.
"You must be dumb."

"He wouldn't be an author if he wasn't," gibed another conferee.

"Well," asked Orman, "who else am I takin'? Who's my chief cameraman?"

"Bill West."

"Fine."

"What with your staff, the cast, and drivers you'll have between
thirty-five and forty whites. Besides the generator truck and the two
sound trucks, you'll have twenty five-ton trucks and five passenger
cars. We're picking technicians and mechanics who can drive trucks so
as to cut down the size of the company as much as possible. I'm sorry
you weren't in town to pick your own company, but we had to rush
things. Every one's signed up but the assistant director. You can take
any one along you please."

"When do we leave?"

"In about ten days."

"It's a great life," sighed Orman. "Six months in Borneo, ten days
in Hollywood, and then another six months in Africa! You guys give a
fellow just about time to get a shave between trips."

"Between drinks, did you say?" inquired Joe.

"Between drinks!" offered another. "There isn't any between drinks in
Tom's young life."




                                  II

                                  MUD


Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem and his swarthy followers sat in silence on their
ponies and watched the mad Nasara sweating and cursing as they urged
on two hundred blacks in an effort to drag a nine-ton generator truck
through the muddy bottom of a small stream.

Nearby, Jerrold Baine leaned against the door of a muddy touring car in
conversation with the two girls who occupied the back seat.

"How you feeling, Naomi?" he inquired.

"Rotten."

"Touch of fever again?"

"Nothing but since we left Jinja. I wish I was back in Hollywood; but I
won't ever see Hollywood again. I'm going to die here."

"Aw, shucks! You're just blue. You'll be all right."

"She had a dream last night," said the other girl. "Naomi believes in
dreams."

"Shut up," snapped Miss Madison.

"_You_ seem to keep pretty fit, Rhonda," remarked Baine.

Rhonda Terry nodded. "I guess I'm just lucky."

"You'd better touch wood," advised the Madison; then she added,
"Rhonda's physical, purely physical. No one knows what we artistes
suffer, with our high-strung, complex, nervous organizations."

"Better be a happy cow than a miserable artiste," laughed Rhonda.

"Besides that, Rhonda gets all the breaks," complained Naomi.
"Yesterday they shoot the first scene in which I appear, and where was
I? Flat on my back with an attack of fever, and Rhonda has to double
for me--even in the close-ups."

"It's a good thing you look so much alike," said Baine. "Why, knowing
you both as well as I do, I can scarcely tell you apart."

"That's the trouble," grumbled Naomi. "People'll see her and think it's
me."

"Well, what of it?" demanded Rhonda. "You'll get the credit."

"Credit!" exclaimed Naomi. "Why, my dear, it will ruin my reputation.
You are a sweet girl and all that, Rhonda; but remember, I am Naomi
Madison. My public expects superb acting. They will be disappointed,
and they will blame me."

Rhonda laughed good-naturedly. "I'll do my best not to entirely ruin
your reputation, Naomi," she promised.

"Oh, it isn't your fault," exclaimed the other. "I don't blame you. One
is born with the divine afflatus, or one is not. That is all there is
to it. It is no more your fault that you can't act than it is the fault
of that sheik over there that he was not born a white man."

"What a disillusionment that sheik was!" exclaimed Rhonda.

"How so?" asked Baine.

"When I was a little girl I saw Rudolph Valentino on the screen; and,
ah, brothers, sheiks was sheiks in them days!"

"This bird sure doesn't look much like Valentino," agreed Baine.

"Imagine being carried off into the desert by that bunch of whiskers
and dirt! And here I've just been waiting all these years to be carried
off."

"I'll speak to Bill about it," said Baine.

The girl sniffed. "Bill West's a good cameraman, but he's no sheik.
He's just about as romantic as his camera."

"He's a swell guy," insisted Baine.

"Of course he is; I'm crazy about him. He'd make a great brother."

"How much longer we got to sit here?" demanded Naomi, peevishly.

"Until they get the generator truck and twenty-two other trucks through
that mud hole."

"I don't see why we can't go on. I don't see why we have to sit here
and fight flies and bugs."

"We might as well fight 'em here as somewhere else," said Rhonda.

"Orman's afraid to separate the safari," explained Baine. "This is a
bad piece of country. He was warned against bringing the company here.
The natives never have been completely subdued, and they've been acting
up lately."

They were silent for a while, brushing away insects and watching the
heavy truck being dragged slowly up the muddy bank. The ponies of the
Arabs stood switching their tails and biting at the stinging pests that
constantly annoyed them.

Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem spoke to one at his side, a swarthy man with evil
eyes. "Which of the _benat_, Atewy, is she who holds the secret of the
valley of diamonds?"

"_Billah!_" exclaimed Atewy, spitting. "They are as alike as two pieces
of _jella_. I cannot be sure which is which."

"But one of them hath the paper? You are sure?"

"Yes. The old _Nasrany_, who is the father of one of them, had it; but
she took it from him. The young man leaning against that invention of
_Sheytan_, talking to them now, plotted to take the life of the old man
that he might steal the paper; but the girl, his daughter, learned of
the plot and took the paper herself. The old man and the young man both
believe that the paper is lost."

"But the _bint_ talks to the young man who would have killed her
father," said the sheykh. "She seems friendly with him. I do not
understand these Christian dogs."

"Nor I," admitted Atewy. "They are all mad. They quarrel and fight, and
then immediately they sit down together, laughing and talking. They do
things in great secrecy while every one is looking on. I saw the _bint_
take the paper while the young man was looking on, and yet he seems to
know nothing of it. He went soon after to her father and asked to see
it. It was then the old man searched for it and could not find it. He
said that it was lost, and he was heartbroken."

"It is all very strange," murmured Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem. "Are you sure
that you understand their accursed tongue and know that which they say,
Atewy?"

"Did I not work for more than a year with a mad old _Nasrany_ who dug
in the sands at _Kheybar_? If he found only a piece of a broken pot he
would be happy all the rest of the day. From him I learned the language
of _el-Engleys_."

"_Wellah!_" sighed the sheykh; "it must be a great treasure indeed,
greater than those of Howwara and Geryeh combined; or they would not
have brought so many carriages to transport it." He gazed with brooding
eyes at the many trucks parked upon the opposite bank of the stream
waiting to cross.

"When shall I take the _bint_ who hath the paper?" demanded Atewy after
a moment's silence.

"Let us bide our time," replied the sheykh. "There be no hurry, since
they be leading us always nearer to the treasure and feeding us well
into the bargain. The _Nasrany_ are fools. They thought to fool the
_Bedauwy_ with their picture taking as they fooled _el-Engleys_, but we
are brighter than they. We know the picture making is only a blind to
hide the real purpose of their safari."

Sweating, mud covered, Mr. Thomas Orman stood near the line of blacks
straining on the ropes attached to a heavy truck. In one hand he
carried a long whip. At his elbow stood a bearer, but in lieu of a
rifle he carried a bottle of Scotch.

By nature Orman was neither a harsh nor cruel task-master. Ordinarily,
both his inclinations and his judgment would have warned him against
using the lash. The sullen silence of the blacks which should have
counselled him to forbearance only irritated him still further.

He was three months out of Hollywood and already almost two months
behind schedule, with the probability staring him in the face that it
would be another month before they could reach the location where the
major part of the picture could be shot. His leading woman had a touch
of fever that might easily develop into something that would keep her
out of the picture entirely. He had already been down twice with fever,
and that had had its effects upon his disposition. It seemed to him
that everything had gone wrong, that everything had conspired against
him. And now these damn niggers, as he thought of them, were lying down
on the job.

"Lay into it, you lazy bums!" he yelled, and the long lash reached out
and wrapped around the shoulders of a black.

A young man in khaki shirt and shorts turned away in disgust and
walked toward the car where Baine was talking to the two girls. He
paused in the shade of a tree; and, removing his sun helmet, wiped the
perspiration from his forehead and the inside of the hat band; then he
moved on again and joined them.

Baine moved over to make room for him by the rear door of the car. "You
look sore, Bill," he remarked.

West swore softly. "Orman's gone nuts. If he doesn't throw that whip
away and leave the booze alone we're headed for a lot of grief."

"It's in the air," said Rhonda. "The men don't laugh and sing the way
they used to."

"I saw Kwamudi looking at him a few minutes ago," continued West.
"There was hate in his eyes all right, and there was something worse."

"Oh, well," said Baine, "you got to treat those niggers rough; and
as for Kwamudi, Tom can tie a can to him and appoint some one else
headman."

"Those slave driving days are over, Baine; and the blacks know it.
Orman'll get in plenty of trouble for this if the blacks report it, and
don't fool yourself about Kwamudi. He's no ordinary headman; he's a
big chief in his own country, and most of our blacks are from his own
tribe. If he says quit, they'll quit; and don't you forget it. We'd be
in a pretty mess if those fellows quit on us."

"Well, what are we goin' to do about it? Tom ain't asking our advice
that I've ever noticed."

"You could do something, Naomi," said West, turning to the girl.

"Who, me? What could I do?"

"Well, Tom likes you a lot. He'd listen to you."

"Oh, nerts! It's his own funeral. I got troubles of my own."

"It may be your funeral, too," said West.

"Blah!" said the girl. "All I want to do is get out of here. How much
longer I got to sit here and fight flies? Say, where's Stanley? I
haven't seen him all day."

"The Lion Man is probably asleep in the back of his car," suggested
Baine. "Say, have you heard what Old Man Marcus calls him?"

"What does he call him?" demanded Naomi.

"Sleeping Sickness."

"Aw, you're all sore at him," snapped Naomi, "because he steps right
into a starring part while you poor dubs have been working all your
lives and are still doin' bits. Mr. Obroski is a real artiste."

"Say, we're going to start!" cried Rhonda. "There's the signal."

At last the long motorcade was under way. In the leading cars was
a portion of the armed guards, the askaris; and another detachment
brought up the rear. To the running boards of a number of the trucks
clung some of the blacks, but most of them followed the last truck
afoot. Pat O'Grady, the assistant director, was in charge of these.

O'Grady carried no long whip. He whistled a great deal, always the same
tune; and he joshed his charges unmercifully, wholly ignoring the fact
that they understood nothing that he said. But they reacted to his
manner and his smile, and slowly their tenseness relaxed. Their sullen
silence broke a little, and they talked among themselves. But still
they did not sing, and there was no laughter.

"It would be better," remarked Major White, walking at O'Grady's side,
"if you were in full charge of these men at all times. Mr. Orman is
temperamentally unsuited to handle them."

O'Grady shrugged. "Well, what is there to do about it?"

"He won't listen to me," said the major. "He resents every suggestion
that I make. I might as well have remained in Hollywood."

"I don't know what's got into Tom. He's a mighty good sort. I never saw
him like this before." O'Grady shook his head.

"Well, for one thing there's too much Scotch got into him," observed
White.

"I think it's the fever and the worry." The assistant director was
loyal to his chief.

"Whatever it is we're in for a bad mess if there isn't a change," the
Englishman prophesied. His manner was serious, and it was evident that
he was worried.

"Perhaps you're--" O'Grady started to reply, but his words were
interrupted by a sudden rattle of rifle fire coming, apparently, from
the direction of the head of the column.

"My lord! What now?" exclaimed White, as, leaving O'Grady, he hurried
toward the sound of the firing.




                                  III

                            POISONED ARROWS


The ears of man are dull. Even on the open veldt they do not record the
sound of a shot at any great distance. But the ears of hunting beasts
are not as the ears of man; so hunting beasts at great distances paused
when they heard the rifle fire that had startled O'Grady and White.
Most of them slunk farther away from the dread sound.

Not so two lying in the shade of a tree. One was a great black-maned
golden lion; the other was a man. He lay upon his back, and the lion
lay beside him with one huge paw upon his chest.

"Tarmangani!" murmured the man.

A low growl rumbled in the cavernous chest of the carnivore.

"I shall have to look into this matter," said the man, "perhaps
tonight, perhaps tomorrow." He closed his eyes and fell asleep again,
the sleep from which the shots had aroused him.

The lion blinked his yellow-green eyes and yawned; then he lowered his
great head, and he too slept.

Near them lay the partially devoured carcass of a zebra, the kill that
they had made at dawn. Neither Ungo, the jackal, nor Dango, the hyena,
had as yet scented the feast; so quiet prevailed, broken only by the
buzzing of insects and the occasional call of a bird.

Before Major White reached the head of the column the firing had
ceased, and when he arrived he found the askaris and the white men
crouching behind trees gazing into the dark forest before them, their
rifles ready. Two black soldiers lay upon the ground, their bodies
pierced by arrows. Already their forms were convulsed by the last
throes of dissolution. Naomi Madison crouched upon the floor of her
car. Rhonda Terry stood with one foot on the running board, a pistol in
her hand.

White ran to Orman who stood with rifle in hand peering into the
forest. "What happened, Mr. Orman?" he asked.

"An ambush," replied Orman. "The devils just fired a volley of arrows
at us and then beat it. We scarcely caught a glimpse of them."

"The Bansutos," said White.

Orman nodded. "I suppose so. They think they can frighten me with a few
arrows, but I'll show the dirty niggers."

"This was just a warning, Orman. They don't want us in their country."

"I don't care what they want; I'm going in. They can't bluff me."

"Don't forget, Mr. Orman, that you have a lot of people here for whose
lives you are responsible, including two white women, and that you were
warned not to come through the Bansuto country."

"I'll get my people through all right; the responsibility is mine, not
yours." Orman's tone was sullen, his manner that of a man who knows
that he is wrong but is constrained by stubbornness from admitting it.

"I cannot but feel a certain responsibility myself," replied White.
"You know I was sent with you in an advisory capacity."

"I'll ask for your advice when I want it."

"You need it now. You know nothing about these people or what to expect
from them."

"The fact that we were ready and sent a volley into them the moment
that they attacked has taught 'em a good lesson," blustered Orman. "You
can be sure they won't bother us again."

"I wish that I could be sure of that, but I can't. We haven't seen the
last of those beggars. What you have seen is just a sample of their
regular strategy of warfare. They'll never attack in force or in the
open--just pick us off two or three at a time; and perhaps we'll never
see one of them."

"Well, if you're afraid, go back," snapped Orman. "I'll give you
porters and a guard."

White smiled. "I'll remain with the company, of course." Then he turned
back to where Rhonda Terry still stood, a trifle pale, her pistol ready
in her hand.

"You'd best remain in the car, Miss Terry," he said. "It will afford
you some protection from arrows. You shouldn't expose yourself as you
have."

"I couldn't help but overhear what you said to Mr. Orman," said the
girl. "Do you really think they will keep on picking us off like this?"

"I am afraid so; it is the way they fight. I don't wish to frighten you
unnecessarily, but you must be careful."

She glanced at the two bodies that lay quiet now in the grotesque and
horrible postures of death. "I had no idea that arrows could kill so
quickly." A little shudder accompanied her words.

"They were poisoned," explained the major.

"Poisoned!" There was a world of horror in the single word.

White glanced into the tonneau of the car. "I think Miss Madison has
fainted," he said.

"She would!" exclaimed Rhonda, turning toward the unconscious girl.

Together they lifted her to the seat, and Rhonda applied restoratives;
and, as they worked, Orman was organizing a stronger advance guard and
giving orders to the white men clustered about him.

"Keep your rifles ready beside you all the time. I'll try to put an
extra armed man on every truck. Keep your eyes open, and at the first
sight of anything suspicious, shoot.

"Bill, you and Baine ride with the girls; I'll put an askari on each
running board of their car. Clarence, you go to the rear of the column
and tell Pat what has happened. Tell him to strengthen the rear guard,
and you stay back there and help him.

"And Major White!" The Englishman came forward. "I wish you'd see old
el-Ghrennem and ask him to send half his force to the rear and the
other half up with us. We can use 'em to send messages up and down the
column, if necessary.

"Mr. Marcus," he turned to the old character man, "you and Obroski ride
near the middle of the column." He looked about him suddenly. "Where is
Obroski?"

No one had seen him since the attack. "He was in the car when I left
it," said Marcus. "Perchance he has fallen asleep again." There was a
sly twinkle in the old eyes.

"Here he comes now," said Clarence Noice.

A tall, handsome youth with a shock of black hair was approaching from
down the line of cars. He wore a six-shooter strapped about his hips
and carried a rifle. When he saw them looking toward him he commenced
to run in their direction.

"Where are they?" he called. "Where did they go?"

"Where you been?" demanded Orman.

"I been looking for them. I thought they were back there."

Bill West turned toward Gordon Z. Marcus and winked a slow wink.

Presently the column moved forward again. Orman was with the advance
guard, the most dangerous post; and White remained with him.

Like a great snake the safari wound its way into the forest, the
creaking of springs, the sound of the tires, the muffled exhausts its
only accompaniment. There was no conversation--only tense, fearful
expectancy.

There were many stops while a crew of blacks with knives and axes
hewed a passage for the great trucks. Then on again into the shadows
of the primitive wilderness. Their progress was slow, monotonous,
heartbreaking.

At last they came to a river. "We'll camp here," said Orman.

White nodded. To him had been delegated the duty of making and
breaking camp. In a quiet voice he directed the parking of the cars and
trucks as they moved slowly into the little clearing along the river
bank.

As he was thus engaged, those who had been passengers climbed to the
ground and stretched their legs. Orman sat on the running board of a
car and took a drink of Scotch. Naomi Madison sat down beside him and
lighted a cigarette. She darted fearful glances into the forest around
them and across the river into the still more mysterious wood beyond.

"I wish we were out of here, Tom," she said. "Let's go back before
we're all killed."

"That ain't what I was sent out here for. I was sent to make a picture,
and I'm goin' to make it in spite of hell and high water."

She moved closer and leaned her lithe body against him. "Aw, Tom, if
you loved me you'd take me out of here. I'm scared. I know I'm going to
die. If it isn't fever it'll be those poisoned arrows."

"Go tell your troubles to your Lion Man," growled Orman, taking another
drink.

"Don't be an old meany, Tom. You know I don't care anything about him.
There isn't any one but you."

"Yes, I know it--except when you think I'm not looking. You don't think
I'm blind, do you?"

"You may not be blind, but you're all wet," she snapped angrily. "I--"

A shot from the rear of the column halted her in mid-speech. Then came
another and another in quick succession, followed by a fusillade.

Orman leaped to his feet. Men started to run toward the rear. He called
them back. "Stay here!" he cried. "They may attack here, too--if that's
who it is back again. Major White! Tell the sheik to send a horseman
back there pronto to see what's happened."

Naomi Madison fainted. No one paid any attention to her. They left her
lying where she had fallen. The black askaris and the white men of the
company stood with rifles in tense fingers, straining their eyes into
the woods about them.

The firing at the rear ceased as suddenly as it had begun. The ensuing
silence seemed a thing of substance. It was broken by a weird,
blood-curdling scream from the dark wood on the opposite bank of the
river.

"Gad!" exclaimed Baine. "What was that?"

"I think the bounders are just trying to frighten us," said White.

"Insofar as I am concerned they have succeeded admirably,"
admitted Marcus. "If one could be scared out of seven years growth
retroactively, I would soon be a child again."

Bill West threw a protective arm about Rhonda Terry. "Lie down and roll
under the car," he said. "You'll be safe from arrows there."

"And get grease in my eyes? No, thanks."

"Here comes the sheik's man now," said Baine. "There's somebody behind
him on the horse--a white man."

"It's Clarence," said West.

As the Arab reined his pony in near Orman, Noice slipped to the ground.

"Well, what was it?" demanded the director.

"Same thing that happened up in front back there," replied Noice.
"There was a volley of arrows without any warning, two men killed;
then we turned and fired; but we didn't see any one, not a soul. It's
uncanny. Say, those blacks of ours are all shot. Can't see anything but
the whites of their eyes, and they're shaking so their teeth rattle."

"Is Pat hurryin' the rest of the safari into camp?" asked Orman.

Noice grinned. "They don't need any hurryin'. They're comin' so fast
that they'll probably go right through without seein' it."

A scream burst in their midst, so close to them that even the stolid
Major White jumped. All wheeled about with rifles ready.

Naomi Madison had raised herself to a sitting position. Her hair was
dishevelled, her eyes wild. She screamed a second time and then fainted
again.

"Shut up!" yelled Orman, frantically, his nerves on edge; but she did
not hear him.

"If you'll have our tent set up, I'll get her to bed," suggested Rhonda.

Cars, horsemen, black men afoot were crowding into the clearing. No one
wished to be left back there in the forest. All was confusion.

Major White, with the assistance of Bill West, tried to restore order
from chaos; and when Pat O'Grady came in, he helped.

At last camp was made. Blacks, whites, and horses were crowded close
together, the blacks on one side, the whites on the other.

"If the wind changes," remarked Rhonda Terry, "we're sunk."

"What a mess," groaned Baine, "and I thought this was going to be a
lovely outing. I was so afraid I wasn't going to get the part that I
was almost sick."

"Now you're sick because you did get it."

"I'll tell the world I am."

"You're goin' to be a whole lot sicker before we get out of this
Bansuto country," remarked Bill West.

"You're telling me!"

"How's the Madison, Rhonda?" inquired West.

The girl shrugged. "If she wasn't so darned scared she wouldn't be in
such a bad way. That last touch of fever's about passed, but she just
lies there and shakes--scared stiff."

"You're a wonder, Rhonda. You don't seem to be afraid of anything."

"Well, I'll be seein' yuh," remarked Baine as he walked toward his own
tent.

"Afraid!" exclaimed the girl. "Bill, I never knew what it was to be
afraid before. Why, I've got goose-pimples inside."

West shook his head. "You're sure a game kid. No one would ever know
you were afraid--you don't show it."

"Perhaps I've just enough brains to know that it wouldn't get me
anything. It doesn't even get her sympathy." She nodded her head toward
the tent.

West grimaced. "She's a--" he hesitated, searching for adequate
invective.

The girl placed her fingers against his lips and shook her head. "Don't
say it," she admonished. "She can't help it. I'm really sorry for her."

"You're a wonder! And she treats you like scum. Gee, kid, but you've
got a great disposition. I don't see how you can be decent to her. It's
that dog-gone patronizing air of hers toward you that gets my nanny.
The great artiste! Why, you can act circles all around her, kid; and as
for looks! You got her backed off the boards."

Rhonda laughed. "That's why she's a famous star and I'm a double. Quit
your kidding."

"I'm not kidding. The company's all talking about it. You stole the
scenes we shot while she was laid up. Even Orman knows it, and he's got
a crush on her."

"You're prejudiced--you don't like her."

"She's nothing in my young life, one way or another. But I do like you,
Rhonda. I like you a lot. I--oh, pshaw--you know what I mean."

"What are you doing, Bill--making love to me?"

"I'm trying to."

"Well, as a lover you're a great cameraman--and you'd better stick
to your camera. This is not exactly the ideal setting for a love
scene. I am surprised that a great cameraman like you should have
failed to appreciate that. You'd never shoot a love scene against this
background."

"I'm shootin' one now, Rhonda. I love you."

"Cut!" laughed the girl.




                                  IV

                              DISSENSION


Kwamudi, the black headman, stood before Orman. "My people go back," he
said; "not stay in Bansuto country and be killed."

"You can't go back," growled Orman. "You signed up for the whole trip.
You tell 'em they got to stay; or, by George, I'll--"

"We not sign up to go Bansuto country; we not sign up be killed. You go
back, we come along. You stay, we go back. We go daylight." He turned
and walked away.

Orman started up angrily from his camp chair, seizing his ever ready
whip. "I'll teach you, you black----!" he yelled.

White, who had been standing beside him, seized him by the shoulder.
"Stop!" His voice was low but his tone peremptory. "You can't do that!
I haven't interfered before, but now you've got to listen to me. The
lives of all of us are at stake."

"Don't you interfere, you meddlin' old fool," snapped Orman. "This is
my show, and I'll run it my way."

"You'd better go soak your head, Tom," said O'Grady; "you're full of
hootch. The major's right. We're in a tight hole, and we won't ever get
out of it on Scotch." He turned to the Englishman. "You handle things,
Major. Don't pay any attention to Tom; he's drunk. Tomorrow he'll be
sorry--if he sobers up. We're all back of you. Get us out of the mess
if you can. How long would it take to get out of this Bansuto country
if we kept on in the direction we want to go?"

Orman appeared stunned by this sudden defection of his assistant. It
left him speechless.

White considered O'Grady's question. "If we were not too greatly
delayed by the trucks, we could make it in two days," he decided
finally.

"And how long would it take us to reach the location we're headed for
if we have to go back and go around the Bansuto country?" continued
O'Grady.

"We couldn't do it under two weeks," replied the major. "We'd be lucky
if we made it in that time. We'd have to go way to the south through a
beastly rough country."

"The studio's put a lot of money into this already," said O'Grady, "and
we haven't got much of anything to show for it. We'd like to get onto
location as quick as possible. Don't you suppose you could persuade
Kwamudi to go on? If we turn back, we'll have those beggars on our neck
for a day at least. If we go ahead, it will only mean one extra day
of them. Offer Kwamudi's bunch extra pay if they'll stick--it'll be a
whole lot cheaper for us than wastin' another two weeks."

"Will Mr. Orman authorize the bonus?" asked White.

"He'll do whatever I tell him, or I'll punch his fool head," O'Grady
assured him.

Orman had sunk back into his camp chair and was staring at the ground.
He made no comment.

"Very well," said White. "I'll see what I can do. I'll talk to Kwamudi
over at my tent, if you'll send one of the boys after him."

White walked over to his tent, and O'Grady sent a black boy to summon
the headman; then he turned to Orman. "Go to bed, Tom," he ordered,
"and lay off that hootch."

Without a word, Orman got up and went into his tent.

"You put the kibosh on him all right, Pat," remarked Noice, with a
grin. "How do you get away with it?"

O'Grady did not reply. His eyes were wandering over the camp, and there
was a troubled expression on his usually smiling face. He noted the air
of constraint, the tenseness; as though all were waiting for something
to happen, they knew not what.

He saw his messenger overhaul Kwamudi and the headman turn back toward
White's tent. He saw the blacks silently making their little cooking
fires. They did not sing or laugh, and when they spoke they spoke in
whispers.

The Arabs were squatting in the _muk'aad_ of the sheykh's _beyt_. They
were a dour lot at best; and their appearance was little different
tonight than ordinarily, yet he sensed a difference.

Even the whites spoke in lower tones than usual and there was less
chaffing. And from all the groups constant glances were cast toward the
surrounding forest.

Presently he saw Kwamudi leave White and return to his fellows; then
O'Grady walked over to where the Englishman was sitting in a camp
chair, puffing on a squat briar. "What luck?" he asked.

"The bonus got him," replied White. "They will go on, but on one other
condition."

"What is that?"

"His men are not to be whipped."

"That's fair enough," said O'Grady.

"But how are you going to prevent it?"

"For one thing, I'll throw the whip away; for another, I'll tell Orman
we'll all quit him if he doesn't lay off. I can't understand him; he
never was like this before. I've worked with him a lot during the last
five years."

"Too much liquor," said White; "it's finally got him."

"He'll be all right when we get on location and get to work. He's
been worrying too much. Once we get through this Bansuto country
everything'll be jake."

"We're not through it yet, Pat. They'll get some more of us tomorrow
and some more the next day. I don't know how the blacks will stand it.
It's a bad business. We really ought to turn around and go back. It
would be better to lose two weeks time than to lose everything, as we
may easily do if the blacks quit us. You know we couldn't move through
this country without them."

"We'll pull through somehow," O'Grady assured him. "We always do. Well,
I'm goin' to turn in. Good-night, Major."

The brief equatorial twilight had ushered in the night. The moon had
not risen. The forest was blotted out by a pall of darkness. The
universe had shrunk to a few tiny earth fires surrounded by the huddled
forms of men and, far above, a few stars.

Obroski paused in front of the girls' tent and scratched on the flap.
"Who is it?" demanded Naomi Madison from within.

"It's me, Stanley."

She bade him enter; and he came in to find her lying on her cot beneath
a mosquito bar, a lantern burning on a box beside her.

"Well," she said peevishly, "it's a wonder any one came. I might lie
here and die for all any one cares."

"I'd have come sooner, but I thought of course Orman was here."

"He's probably in his tent soused."

"Yes, he is. When I found that out I came right over."

"I shouldn't think you'd be afraid of him. I shouldn't think you'd be
afraid of anything." She gazed admiringly on his splendid physique, his
handsome face.

"Me afraid of that big stiff!" he scoffed. "I'm not afraid of anything,
but you said yourself that we ought not to let Orman know about--about
you and me."

"No," she acquiesced thoughtfully, "that wouldn't be so good. He's got
a nasty temper, and there's lots of things a director can do if he gets
sore."

"In a picture like this he could get a guy killed and make it look like
an accident," said Obroski.

She nodded. "Yes. I saw it done once. The director and the leading man
were both stuck on the same girl. The director had the wrong command
given to a trained elephant."

Obroski looked uncomfortable. "Do you suppose there's any chance of his
coming over?"

"Not now. He'll be dead to the world 'til morning."

"Where's Rhonda?"

"Oh, she's probably playing contract with Bill West and Baine and old
man Marcus. She'd play contract and let me lie here and die all alone."

"Is she all right?"

"What do you mean, all right?"

"She wouldn't tell Orman about us--about my being over here--would she?"

"No, she wouldn't do that--she ain't that kind."

Obroski breathed a sigh of relief. "She knows about us, don't she?"

"She ain't very bright; but she ain't a fool, either. The only trouble
with Rhonda is, she's got it in her head she can act since she doubled
for me while I was down with the fever. Some one handed her some
applesauce, and now she thinks she's some pumpkins. She had the nerve
to tell me that I'd get credit for what she did. Believe me, she won't
get past the cutting room when I get back to Hollywood--not if I know
my groceries and Milt Smith."

"There couldn't anybody act like you, Naomi," said Obroski. "Why,
before I ever dreamed I'd be in pictures I used to go see everything
you were in. I got an album full of your pictures I cut out of movie
magazines and newspapers. And now to think that I'm playin' in the same
company with you, and that"--he lowered his voice--"you love me! You do
love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then I don't see why you have to act so sweet on Orman."

"I got to be diplomatic--I got to think of my career."

"Well, sometimes you act like you were in love with him," he said,
petulantly.

"That answer to a bootlegger's dream! Say, if he wasn't a big director
I couldn't see him with a hundred-inch telescope."

In the far distance a wailing scream echoed through the blackness of
the night, a lion rumbled forth a thunderous answer, the hideous,
mocking voice of a hyena joined the chorus.

The girl shuddered. "God! I'd give a million dollars to be back in
Hollywood."

"They sound like lost souls out there in the night," whispered Obroski.

"And they're calling to us. They're waiting for us. They know that
we'll come, and then they'll get us."

The flap of the tent moved, and Obroski jumped to his feet with a
nervous start. The girl sat straight up on her cot, wide-eyed. The flap
was pulled back, and Rhonda Terry stepped into the light of the lone
lantern.

"Hello, there!" she exclaimed cheerily.

"I wish you'd scratch before you come in," snapped Naomi. "You gave me
a start."

"If we have to camp this close to the black belt every night we'll all
be scratching." She turned to Obroski. "Run along home now; it's time
all little Lion Men were in bed."

"I was just going," said Obroski. "I--"

"You'd better. I just saw Tom Orman reeling in this direction."

Obroski paled. "Well, I'll be running along," he said hurriedly, while
making a quick exit.

Naomi Madison looked distinctly worried. "Did you really see Tom out
there?" she demanded.

"Sure. He was wallowing around like the Avalon in a heavy sea."

"But they said he went to bed."

"If he did, he took his bottle to bed with him."

Orman's voice came to them from outside. "Hey, you! Come back here!"

"Is that you, Mr. Orman?" Obroski's voice quavered noticeably.

"Yes, it's me. What you doin' in the girls' tent? Didn't I give orders
that none of you guys was to go into that tent?"

"I was just lookin' for Rhonda. I wanted to ask her something."

"You're a liar. Rhonda wasn't there. I just saw her go in. You been in
there with Naomi. I've got a good mind to bust your jaw."

"Honestly, Mr. Orman, I was just in there a minute. When I found Rhonda
wasn't there I came right out."

"You came right out after Rhonda went in, you dirty, sneakin' skunk;
and now you listen to me. You lay off Naomi. She's my girl. If I ever
find you monkeyin' around her again I'll kill you. Do you get that?"

"Yes, sir."

Rhonda looked at Naomi and winked. "Papa cross; papa spank," she said.

"My God! he'll kill me," shuddered Naomi.

The flap of the tent was thrust violently aside, and Orman burst into
the tent. Rhonda wheeled and faced him.

"What do you mean by coming into our tent?" she demanded. "Get out of
here!"

Orman's jaw dropped. He was not accustomed to being talked to like
that, and it took him off his feet. He was as surprised as might be
a pit bull slapped in the face by a rabbit. He stood swaying at the
entrance for a moment, staring at Rhonda as though he had discovered a
new species of animal.

"I just wanted to speak to Naomi," he said. "I didn't know you were
here."

"You can speak to Naomi in the morning. And you did know that I was
here; I heard you tell Stanley."

At the mention of Obroski's name Orman's anger welled up again. "That's
what I'm goin' to talk to her about." He took a step in the direction
of Naomi's cot. "Now look here, you dirty little tramp," he yelled,
"you can't make a monkey of me. If I ever catch you playin' around with
that Polack again I'll beat you into a pulp."

Naomi shrank back, whimpering. "Don't touch me! I didn't do anything.
You got it all wrong, Tom. He didn't come here to see me; he came to
see Rhonda. Don't let him get me, Rhonda; for God's sake, don't let him
get me."

Orman hesitated and looked at Rhonda. "Is that on the level?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied; "he came to see me. I asked him to come."

"Then why didn't he stay after you came in?" Orman thought he had her
there.

"I saw you coming, and I told him to beat it."

"Well, you got to cut it out," snapped Orman. "There's to be no more
men in this tent--do your visiting outside."

"That suits me," said Rhonda. "Good-night."

As Orman departed, the Madison sank back on her cot trembling. "Phew!"
she whispered after she thought the man was out of hearing; "that was
a close shave." She did not thank Rhonda. Her selfish egotism accepted
any service as her rightful due.

"Listen," said the other girl. "I'm hired to double for you in
pictures, not in your love affairs. After this, watch your step."

Orman saw a light in the tent occupied by West and one of the other
cameramen. He walked over to it and went in. West was undressing.
"Hello, Tom!" he said. "What brings you around? Anything wrong?"

"There ain't now, but there was. I just run that dirty Polack out of
the girls' tent. He was over there with Rhonda."

West paled. "I don't believe it."

"You callin' me a liar?" demanded Orman.

"Yes, you and any one else who says that."

Orman shrugged. "Well, she told me so herself--said she asked him over
and made him scram when she saw me coming. That stuff's got to stop,
and I told her so. I told the Polack too--the damn pansy;" then he
lurched out and headed for his own tent.

Bill West lay awake until almost morning.




                                   V

                                 DEATH


While the camp slept, a bronzed white giant, naked but for a loin
cloth, surveyed it--sometimes from the branches of overhanging trees,
again from the ground inside the circle of the sentries. Then, he
moved among the tents of the whites and the shelters of the blacks as
soundlessly as a shadow. He saw everything, he heard much. With the
coming of dawn he melted away into the mist that enveloped the forest.

It was long before dawn that the camp commenced to stir. Major White
had snatched a few hours sleep after midnight. He was up early routing
out the cooks, getting the whites up so that their tents could be
struck for an early start, directing the packing and loading by
Kwamudi's men. It was then that he learned that fully twenty-five of
the porters had deserted during the night.

He questioned the sentries, but none had seen any one leave the camp
during the night. He knew that some of them lied. When Orman came out
of his tent he told him what had happened.

The director shrugged. "We still got more niggers than we need anyway."

"If we have any more trouble with the Bansutos today, we'll have more
desertions tonight," White warned. "They may all leave in spite of
Kwamudi, and if we're left in this country without porters I wouldn't
give a fig for our chances of ever getting out.

"I still think, Mr. Orman, that the sensible thing would be to turn
back and make a detour. Our situation is extremely grave."

"Well, turn back if you want to, and take the niggers with you,"
growled Orman. "I'm going on with the trucks and the company." He
turned and walked away.

The whites were gathering at the mess table--a long table that
accommodated them all. In the dim light of the coming dawn and the mist
rising from the ground figures at a little distance appeared spectral,
and the illusion was accentuated by the silence of the company. Every
one was cold and sleepy. They were apprehensive too of what the day
held for them. Memory of the black soldiers, pierced by poisoned
arrows, writhing on the ground was too starkly present in every mind.

Hot coffee finally thawed them out a bit. It was Pat O'Grady who thawed
first. "Good morning, dear teacher, good morning to you," he sang in an
attempt to reach a childish treble.

"Ain't we got fun!" exclaimed Rhonda Terry. She glanced down the table
and saw Bill West. She wondered a little, because he had always sat
beside her before. She tried to catch his eye and smile at him, but
he did not look in her direction--he seemed to be trying to avoid her
glance.

"Let us eat and drink and be merry; for tomorrow we die," misquoted
Gordon Z. Marcus.

"That's not funny," said Baine.

"On second thought I quite agree with you," said Marcus. "I loosed a
careless shaft at humor and hit truth--"

"Right between the eyes," said Clarence Noice.

"Some of us may not have to wait until tomorrow," offered Obroski;
"some of us may get it today." His voice sounded husky.

"Can that line of chatter!" snapped Orman. "If you're scared, keep it
to yourself."

"I'm not scared," said Obroski.

"The Lion Man scared? Don't be foolish." Baine winked at Marcus. "I
tell you, Tom, what we ought to do now that we're in this bad country.
It's funny no one thought of it before."

"What's that?" asked Orman.

"We ought to send the Lion Man out ahead to clear the way for the rest
of us; he'd just grab these Bansutos and break 'em in two if they got
funny."

"That's not a bad idea," replied Orman grimly. "How about it, Obroski?"

Obroski grinned weakly. "I'd like to have the author of that story here
and send him out," he said.

"Some of those smokes had good sense anyway," volunteered a truck
driver at the foot of the table.

"How come?" asked a neighbor.

"Hadn't you heard? About twenty-five or thirty of 'em pulled their
freight out of here--they beat it back for home."

"Those bimbos must know," said another; "this is their country."

"That's what we ought to do," growled another--"get out of here and go
back."

"Shut up!" snapped Orman. "You guys make me sick. Who ever picked this
outfit for me must have done it in a pansy bed."

Naomi Madison was sitting next to him. She turned her frightened eyes
up to him. "Did some of the blacks really run away last night?" she
asked.

"For Pete's sake! don't you start in too," he exclaimed; then he got up
and stamped away from the table.

At the foot of the table some one muttered something that sounded like
that epithet which should always be accompanied with a smile; but it
was not.

By ones and twos they finished their breakfasts and went about their
duties. They went in silence without the customary joking that had
marked the earlier days of the expedition.

Rhonda and Naomi gathered up the hand baggage that they always took
in the car with them and walked over to the machine. Baine was at the
wheel warming up the motor. Gordon Z. Marcus was stowing a make-up case
in the front of the car.

"Where's Bill?" asked Rhonda.

"He's going with the camera truck today," explained Baine.

"That's funny," commented Rhonda. It suddenly occurred to her that he
was avoiding her, and she wondered why. She tried to recall anything
that she had said or done that might have offended him, but she could
not. She felt strangely sad.

Some of the trucks had commenced to move toward the river. The Arabs
and a detachment of askaris had already crossed to guard the passage of
the trucks.

"They're going to send the generator truck across first," explained
Baine. "If they get her across the rest will be easy. If they don't,
we'll have to turn back."

"I hope it gets stuck so fast they never get it out," said the Madison.

The crossing of the river, which Major White had anticipated with many
misgivings, was accomplished with ease; for the bottom was rocky and
the banks sloping and firm. There was no sign of the Bansutos, and no
attack was made on the column as it wound its way into the forest ahead.

All morning they moved on with comparative ease, retarded only by the
ordinary delays consequent upon clearing a road for the big trucks
where trees had to be thinned. The underbrush they bore down beneath
them, flattening it out into a good road for the lighter cars that
followed.

Spirits became lighter as the day progressed without revealing any
sign of the Bansutos. There was a noticeable relaxation. Conversation
increased and occasionally a laugh was heard. Even the blacks seemed to
be returning to normal. Perhaps they had noticed that Orman no longer
carried his whip, nor did he take any part in the direction of the
march.

He and White were on foot with the advance guard, both men constantly
alert for any sign of danger. There was still considerable constraint
in their manner, and they spoke to one another only as necessity
required.

The noon-day stop for lunch passed and the column took up its snakelike
way through the forest once more. The ring of axes against wood ahead
was accompanied by song and laughter. Already the primitive minds of
the blacks had cast off the fears that had assailed them earlier in the
day.

Suddenly, without warning, a dozen feathered missiles sped from the
apparently deserted forest around them. Two blacks fell. Major White,
walking beside Orman, clutched at a feathered shaft protruding from
his breast and fell at Orman's feet. The askaris and the Arabs fired
blindly into the forest. The column came to a sudden halt.

"Again!" whispered Rhonda Terry.

Naomi Madison screamed and slipped to the floor of the car. Rhonda
opened the door and stepped out onto the ground.

"Get back in, Rhonda!" cried Baine. "Get under cover."

The girl shook her head as though the suggestion irritated her. "Where
is Bill?" she asked. "Is he up in front?"

"Not way up," replied Baine; "only a few cars ahead of us."

The men all along the line of cars slipped to the ground with their
rifles and stood searching the forest to right and left for some sign
of an enemy.

A man was crawling under a truck.

"What the hell are you doing, Obroski?" demanded Noice.

"I--I'm going to lie in the shade until we start again."

Noice made a vulgar sound with his lips and tongue.

In the rear of the column Pat O'Grady stopped whistling. He dropped
back with the askaris guarding the rear. They had faced about and were
nervously peering into the forest. A man from the last truck joined
them and stood beside O'Grady.

"Wish we could get a look at 'em once," he said.

"It's tough tryin' to fight a bunch of guys you don't ever see," said
O'Grady.

"It sort of gets a guy's nanny," offered the other. "I wonder who they
got up in front this time."

O'Grady shook his head.

"It'll be our turn next; it was yesterday," said the man.

O'Grady looked at him. He saw that he was not afraid--he was merely
stating what he believed to be a fact. "Can't ever tell," he said. "If
it's a guy's time, he'll get it; if it isn't, he won't."

"Do you believe that? I wish I did."

"Sure--why not? It's pleasanter. I don't like worryin'."

"I don't know," said the other dubiously. "I ain't superstitious." He
paused and lighted a cigarette.

"Neither am I," said O'Grady.

"I got one of my socks on wrong side out this morning," the man
volunteered thoughtfully.

"You didn't take it off again, did you?" inquired O'Grady.

"No."

"That's right; you shouldn't."

Word was passed back along the line that Major White and two askaris
had been killed. O'Grady cursed. "The major was a swell guy," he said.
"He was worth all the lousy coons in Africa. I hope I get a chance to
get some of 'em for this."

The porters were nervous, frightened, sullen. Kwamudi came up to
O'Grady. "Black boys not go on," he said. "They turn back--go home."

"They better stick with us," O'Grady told him. "If they turn back
they'll all be killed; they won't have a lot of us guys with rifles to
fight for 'em. Tomorrow we ought to be out of this Bansuto country. You
better advise 'em to stick, Kwamudi."

Kwamudi grumbled and walked away.

"That was just a bluff," O'Grady confided to the other white. "I don't
believe they'd turn back through this Bansuto country alone."

Presently the column got under way again, and Kwamudi and his men
marched with it.

Up in front they had laid the bodies of Major White and the two blacks
on top of one of the loads to give them decent burial at the next camp.
Orman marched well in advance with set, haggard face. The askaris were
nervous and held back. The party of blacks clearing the road for the
leading truck was on the verge of mutiny. The Arabs lagged behind. They
had all had confidence in White, and his death had taken the heart out
of them. They remembered Orman's lash and his cursing tongue; they
would not have followed him at all had it not been for his courage.
That was so evident that it commanded their respect.

He didn't curse them now. He talked to them as he should have from the
first. "We've got to go on," he said. "If we turn back we'll be worse
off. Tomorrow we ought to be out of this."

He used violence only when persuasion failed. An axe man refused to
work and started for the rear. Orman knocked him down and then kicked
him back onto the job. That was something they could all understand. It
was right because it was just. Orman knew that the lives of two hundred
people depended upon every man sticking to his job, and he meant to see
that they stuck.

The rear of the column was not attacked that day, but just before they
reached a camping place another volley of arrows took its toll from
the head of the column. This time three men died, and an arrow knocked
Orman's sun helmet from his head.

It was a gloomy company that made camp late that afternoon. The
death of Major White had brought their own personal danger closer to
the white members of the party. Before this they had felt a certain
subconscious sense of immunity, as though the poisoned arrows of the
Bansutos could deal death only to black men. Now they were quick to the
horror of their own situation. Who would be next? How many of them were
asking themselves this question!




                                  VI

                                REMORSE


Atewy, the Arab, taking advantage of his knowledge of English, often
circulated among the Americans, asking questions, gossiping. They had
become so accustomed to him that they thought nothing of his presence
among them; nor did his awkward attempts at joviality suggest to them
that he might be playing a part for the purpose of concealing ulterior
motives, though it must have been apparent to the least observing that
by nature Atewy was far from jovial.

He was, however, cunning; so he hid the fact that his greatest interest
lay in the two girl members of the company. Nor did he ever approach
them unless men of their own race were with them.

This afternoon Rhonda Terry was writing at a little camp table in front
of her tent, for it was not yet dark. Gordon Z. Marcus had stopped
to chat with her. Atewy from the corners of his eyes noted this and
strolled casually closer.

"Turning literary, Rhonda?" inquired Marcus.

The girl looked up and smiled. "Trying to bring my diary up to date."

"I fear that it will prove a most lugubrious document."

"Whatever that is. Oh, by the way!" She picked up a folded paper. "I
just found this map in my portfolio. In the last scene we shot they
were taking close-ups of me examining it. I wonder if they want it
again--I'd like to swipe it for a souvenir."

As she unfolded the paper Atewy moved closer, a new light burning in
his eyes.

"Keep it," suggested Marcus, "until they ask you for it. Perhaps
they're through with it. It's a most authentic looking thing, isn't it?
I wonder if they made it in the studio."

"No. Bill says that Joe found it between the leaves of a book he
bought in a secondhand book store. When he was commissioned to write
this story it occurred to him to write it around this old map. It _is_
intriguing, isn't it? Almost makes one believe that it would be easy to
find a valley of diamonds." She folded the map and replaced it in her
portfolio. Hawklike, the swarthy Atewy watched her.

Marcus regarded her with his kindly eyes. "You were speaking of Bill,"
he said. "What's wrong with you two children? He used to be with you so
much."

With a gesture Rhonda signified her inability to explain. "I haven't
the remotest idea," she said. "He just avoids me as though I were some
particular variety of pollen to which he reacted. Do I give you hives
or hay fever?"

Marcus laughed. "I can imagine, Rhonda, that you might induce high
temperatures in the male of the species; but to suggest hives or hay
fever--that would be sacrilege."

Naomi Madison came from the tent. Her face was white and drawn. "My
God!" she exclaimed. "How can you people joke at such a time? Why, any
minute any of us may be killed!"

"We must keep up our courage," said Marcus. "We cannot do it by
brooding over our troubles and giving way to our sorrows."

"Pulling a long face isn't going to bring back Major White or those
other poor fellows," said Rhonda. "Every one knows how sorry every one
feels about it; we don't have to wear crêpe to prove that."

"Well, we might be respectful until after the funeral anyway," snapped
Naomi.

"Don't be stupid," said Rhonda, a little tartly.

"When are they going to bury them, Mr. Marcus?" asked Naomi.

"Not until after dark. They don't want the Bansutos to see where
they're buried."

The girl shuddered. "What a horrible country! I feel that I shall never
leave it--alive."

"You certainly won't leave it dead." Rhonda, who seldom revealed her
emotions, evinced a trace of exasperation.

The Madison sniffed. "They would never bury _me_ here. My public would
never stand for that. I shall lie in state in Hollywood."

"Come, come!" exclaimed Marcus. "You girls must not dwell on such
morbid, depressing subjects. We must all keep our minds from such
thoughts. How about a rubber of contract before supper? We'll just
about have time."

"I'm for it," agreed Rhonda.

"You would be," sneered the Madison; "you have no nerves. But no bridge
for me at such a time. I am too highly organized, too temperamental. I
think that is the way with all true artistes, don't you, Mr. Marcus? We
are like high-strung thoroughbreds."

"Well," laughed Rhonda, running her arm through Marcus's, "I guess
we'll have to go and dig up a couple more skates if we want a rubber
before supper. Perhaps we could get Bill and Jerrold. Neither of them
would ever take any prizes in a horse show."

They found Bill West pottering around his cameras. He declined their
invitation glumly. "You might get Obroski," he suggested, "if you can
wake him up."

Rhonda shot a quick glance at him through narrowed lids. "Another
thoroughbred," she said, as she walked away. And to herself she
thought, "That's the second crack he's made about Obroski. All right,
I'll show him!"

"Where to now, Rhonda?" inquired Marcus.

"You dig up Jerrold; I'm going to find Obroski. We'll have a game yet."

They did, and it so happened that their table was set where Bill West
could not but see them. It seemed to Marcus that Rhonda laughed a
little more than was usual and a little more than was necessary.

That night white men and black carried each their own dead into the
outer darkness beyond the range of the camp fires and buried them. The
graves were smoothed over and sprinkled with leaves and branches, and
the excess dirt was carried to the opposite side of the camp where it
was formed in little mounds that looked like graves.

The true graves lay directly in the line of march of the morrow. The
twenty-three trucks and the five passenger cars would obliterate the
last trace of the new-made graves.

The silent men working in the dark hoped that they were unseen by
prying eyes; but long into the night a figure lay above the edge of the
camp, hidden by the concealing foliage of a great tree, and observed
all that took place below. Then, when the last of the white men had
gone to bed, it melted silently into the somber depths of the forest.

Toward morning Orman lay sleepless on his army cot. He had tried to
read to divert his mind from the ghastly procession of thoughts that
persisted despite his every effort to sleep or to think of other
things. In the light of the lantern that he had placed near his head
harsh shadows limned his face as a drawn and haggard mask.

From his cot on the opposite side of the tent Pat O'Grady opened his
eyes and surveyed his chief. "Hell, Tom," he said, "you better get some
sleep or you'll go nuts."

"I can't sleep," replied Orman wearily. "I keep seein' White. I killed
him. I killed all those blacks."

"Hooey!" scoffed O'Grady. "It wasn't any more your fault than it was
the studio's. They sent you out here to make a picture, and you did
what you thought was the thing to do. There can't nobody blame you."

"It was my fault all right. White warned me not to come this way. He
was right; and I knew he was right, but I was too damn pig-headed to
admit it."

"What you need is a drink. It'll brace you up and put you to sleep."

"I've quit."

"It's all right to quit; but don't quit so sudden--taper off."

Orman shook his head. "I ain't blamin' it on the booze," he said;
"there's no one nor nothing to blame but me--but if I hadn't been
drinkin' this would never have happened, and White and those other poor
devils would have been alive now."

"One won't hurt, Tom; you need it."

Orman lay silent in thought for a moment; then he threw aside the
mosquito bar and stood up. "Perhaps you're right, Pat," he said.

He stepped to a heavy, well-worn pigskin bag that stood at the foot of
his cot and, stooping, took out a fat bottle and a tumbler. He shook a
little as he filled the latter to the brim.

O'Grady grinned. "I said one drink, not four."

Slowly Orman raised the tumbler toward his lips. He held it there for
a moment looking at it; then his vision seemed to pass beyond it, pass
through the canvas wall of the tent out into the night toward the
new-made graves.

With an oath, he hurled the full tumbler to the ground; the bottle
followed it, breaking into a thousand pieces.

"That's goin' to be hell on bare feet," remarked O'Grady.

"I'm sorry, Pat," said Orman; then he sat down wearily on the edge of
his cot and buried his face in his hands.

O'Grady sat up, slipped his bare feet into a pair of shoes, and crossed
the tent. He sat down beside his friend and threw an arm about his
shoulders. "Buck up, Tom!" That was all he said, but the pressure of
the friendly arm was more strengthening than many words or many drinks.

From somewhere out in the night came the roar of a lion and a moment
later a blood-curdling cry that seemed neither that of beast nor man.

"Sufferin' cats!" ejaculated O'Grady. "What was that?"

Orman had raised his head and was listening. "Probably some more grief
for us," he replied forebodingly.

They sat silent for a moment then, listening.

"I wonder what could make such a noise," O'Grady spoke in hushed tones.

"Pat," Orman's tone was serious, "do you believe in ghosts?"

O'Grady hesitated before he replied. "I don't know--but I've seen some
funny things in my time."

"So have I," said Orman.

But perhaps of all that they could conjure to their minds nothing so
strange as the reality; for how could they know that they had heard the
victory cry of an English lord and a great lion who had just made their
kill together?




                                  VII

                               DISASTER


The cold and gloomy dawn but reflected the spirits of the company as
the white men dragged themselves lethargically from their blankets.
But the first to view the camp in the swiftly coming daylight were
galvanized into instant wakefulness by what it revealed.

Bill West was the first to suspect what had happened. He looked
wonderingly about for a moment and then started, almost at a run, for
the crude shelters thrown up by the blacks the previous evening.

He called aloud to Kwamudi and several others whose names he knew,
but there was no response. He looked into shelter after shelter, and
always the results were the same. Then he hurried over to Orman's tent.
The director was just coming out as West ran up. O'Grady was directly
behind him.

"What's the matter with breakfast?" demanded the latter. "I don't see a
sign of the cooks."

"And you won't," said West; "they've gone, ducked, vamoosed. If you
want breakfast, you'll cook it yourself."

"What do you mean gone, Bill?" asked Orman.

"The whole kit and kaboodle of 'em have run out on us," explained the
cameraman. "There's not a smoke in camp. Even the askaris have beat it.
The camp's unguarded, and God only knows how long it has been."

"Come!" Orman's inflection registered incredulity. "But they couldn't!
Where have they gone?"

"Search me," replied West. "They've taken a lot of our supplies with
'em too. From what little I saw I guess they outfitted themselves to
the queen's taste. I noticed a couple of trucks that looked like they'd
been rifled."

Orman swore softly beneath his breath; but he squared his shoulders,
and the haggard, hang-dog expression he had worn vanished from his
face. O'Grady had been looking at him with a worried furrow in his
brow; now he gave a sigh of relief and grinned--the Chief was himself
again.

"Rout every one out," Orman directed. "Have the drivers check their
loads. You attend to that, Bill, while Pat posts a guard around the
camp. I see old el-Gran'ma'am and his bunch are still with us. You
better put them on guard duty, Pat. Then round up every one else at the
mess tables for a palaver."

While his orders were being carried out Orman walked about the camp
making a hurried survey. His brain was clear. Even the effects of a
sleepless night seemed to have been erased by this sudden emergency
call upon his resources. He no longer wasted his nervous energy upon
vain regrets, though he was still fully conscious of the fact that this
serious predicament was of his own making.

When he approached the mess table five minutes later the entire company
was assembled there talking excitedly about the defection of the blacks
and offering various prophecies as to the future, none of which were
particularly roseate.

Orman overheard one remark. "It took a case of Scotch to get us into
this mess, but Scotch won't ever get us out of it."

"You all know what has happened," Orman commenced; "and I guess you
all know why it happened, but criminations won't help matters. Our
situation really isn't so hopeless. We have men, provisions, arms, and
transportation. Because the coons deserted us doesn't mean that we've
got to sit down here and kiss ourselves good-bye.

"Nor is there any use in turning around now and going back--the
shortest way out of the Bansuto country is straight ahead. When we get
out of it we can recruit more blacks from friendly tribes and go ahead
with the picture.

"In the meantime every one has got to work and work hard. We have
got to do the work the blacks did before--make camp, strike camp,
unload and load, cook, cut trail, drag trucks through mud holes, stand
guard on the march and in camp. That part and trail cutting will be
dangerous, but every one will have to take his turn at it--every one
except the girls and the cooks; they're the most important members of
the safari." A hint of one of Orman's old smiles touched his lips and
eyes.

"Now," he continued, "the first thing to do is eat. Who can cook?"

"I can like nobody's business," said Rhonda Terry.

"I'll vouch for that," said Marcus. "I've eaten a chicken dinner with
all the trimmings at Rhonda's apartment."

"I can cook," spoke up a male voice.

Every one turned to see who had spoken; he was the only man that had
volunteered for the only safe assignment.

"When did you learn to cook, Obroski?" demanded Noice. "I went camping
with you once; and you couldn't even build a fire, let alone cook on
one after some one else had built it."

Obroski flushed. "Well, some one's got to help Rhonda," he said lamely,
"and no one else offered to."

"Jimmy, here, can cook," offered an electrician. "He used to be
assistant chef in a cafeteria in L. A."

"I don't want to cook," said Jimmy. "I don't want no cinch job. I
served in the Marines in Nicaragua. Gimme a gun, and let me do guard
duty."

"Who else can cook?" demanded Orman. "We need three."

"Shorty can cook," said a voice from the rear. "He used to run a
hot-dog stand on Ventura Boulevard."

"O.K.!" said Orman. "Miss Terry is chief cook; Jimmy and Shorty will
help her; Pat will detail three more for K.P. every day. Now get busy.
While the cooks are rustling some grub the rest of you strike the tents
and load the trucks."

"Oh, Tom," said Naomi Madison at his elbow, "my personal boy has run
away with the others. I wish you would detail one of the men to take
his place."

Orman wheeled and looked at her in astonishment. "I'd forgotten all
about you, Naomi. I'm glad you reminded me. If you can't cook, and I
don't suppose you can, you'll peel spuds, wait on the tables, and help
wash dishes."

For a moment the Madison looked aghast; then she smiled icily. "I
suppose you think you are funny," she said, "but really this is no time
for joking."

"I'm not joking, Naomi." His tone was serious, his face unsmiling.

"Do you mean to say that you expect me, Naomi Madison, to peel
potatoes, wait on tables, and wash dishes! Don't be ridiculous--I shall
do nothing of the kind."

"Be yourself, Naomi! Before Milt Smith discovered you you were slinging
hash in a joint on Main Street; and you'll do it again here, or you
won't eat." He turned and walked away.

During breakfast Naomi Madison sat in haughty aloofness in the back
seat of an automobile. She did not wait on table, nor did she eat.

Americans and Arabs formed the advance and rear guards when the
safari finally got under way; but the crew that cut trail was wholly
American--the Arabs would fight, but they would not work; that was
beneath their dignity.

Not until the last kitchen utensil was washed, packed, and loaded did
Rhonda Terry go to the car in which she and Naomi Madison rode. She was
flushed and a little tired as she entered the car.

Naomi eyed her with compressed lips. "You're a fool, Rhonda," she
snapped. "You shouldn't have lowered yourself by doing that menial
work. We were not employed to be scullery maids."

Rhonda nodded toward the head of the column. "There probably isn't
anything in those boys' contracts about chopping down trees or fighting
cannibals." She took a paper-wrapped parcel from her bag. "I brought
you some sandwiches. I thought you might be hungry."

The Madison ate in silence, and for a long time thereafter she seemed
to be immersed in thought.

The column moved slowly. The axe men were not accustomed to the sort
of work they were doing, and in the heat of the equatorial forest they
tired quickly. The trail opened with exasperating slowness as though
the forest begrudged every foot of progress that they made.

Orman worked with his men, wielding an axe when trees were to be
felled, marching with the advance guard when the trail was opened.

"Tough goin'," remarked Bill West, leaning his axe handle against his
hip and wiping the perspiration from his eyes.

"This isn't the toughest part of it," replied Orman.

"How come?"

"Since the guides scrammed we don't know where we're goin'."

West whistled. "I hadn't thought of that."

As they trudged on an opening in the forest appeared ahead of them
shortly after noon. It was almost treeless and covered with a thick
growth of tall grass higher than a man's head.

"That certainly looks good," remarked Orman. "We ought to make a little
time for a few minutes."

The leading truck forged into the open, flattening the grass beneath
its great tires.

"Hop aboard the trucks!" Orman shouted to the advance guard and the axe
men. "Those beggars won't bother us here; there are no trees to hide
them."

Out into the open moved the long column of cars. A sense of relief from
the oppressive closeness of the forest animated the entire company.

And then, as the rearmost truck bumped into the clearing, a shower
of arrows whirred from the tall grasses all along the line. Savage
war cries filled the air; and for the first time the Bansutos showed
themselves, as their spearmen rushed forward with screams of hate and
blood lust.

A driver near the head of the column toppled from his seat with an
arrow through his heart. His truck veered to the left and went
careening off into the midst of the savages.

Rifles cracked, men shouted and cursed, the wounded screamed. The
column stopped, that every man might use his rifle. Naomi Madison
slipped to the floor of the car. Rhonda drew her revolver and fired
into the faces of the onrushing blacks. A dozen men hurried to the
defense of the car that carried the two girls.

Some one shouted, "Look out! They're on the other side too." Rifles
were turned in the direction of the new threat. The fire was continuous
and deadly. The Bansutos, almost upon them, wavered and fell back. A
fusillade of shots followed them as they disappeared into the dense
grass, followed and found many of them.

It was soon over; perhaps the whole affair had not lasted two minutes.
But it had wrought havoc with the company. A dozen men were dead
or dying, a truck was wrecked, the morale of the little force was
shattered.

Orman turned the command of the advance guard over to West and hurried
back down the line to check up on casualties. O'Grady was running
forward to meet him.

"We'd better get out of here, Tom," he cried; "those devils may fire
the grass."

Orman paled. He had not thought of that. "Load the dead and wounded
onto the nearest cars, and get going!" he ordered. "We'll have to check
up later."

The relief that the party had felt when they entered the grassy
clearing was only equalled by that which they experienced when they
left it to pull into the dense, soggy forest where the menace of fire,
at least, was reduced to a minimum.

Then O'Grady went along the line with his roster of the company
checking the living and the dead. The bodies of Noice, Baine, seven
other Americans and three Arabs were on the trucks.

"Obroski!" shouted O'Grady. "Obroski! Has any one seen Obroski?"

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Gordon Z. Marcus. "I saw him. I remember
now. When those devils came up on our left, he jumped out of the other
side of the car and ran off into that tall grass."

Orman started back toward the rear of the column. "Where you goin',
Tom?" demanded West.

"To look for Obroski."

"You can't go alone. I'll go with you."

Half a dozen others accompanied them, but though they searched for the
better part of an hour they found no sign of Obroski either dead or
alive.

Silent, sad, and gloomy, the company found a poor camping site late in
the afternoon. When they spoke, they spoke in subdued tones, and there
was no joking or laughing. Glumly they sat at table when supper was
announced, and few appeared to notice and none commented upon the fact
that the famous Naomi Madison waited on them.




                                 VIII

                              THE COWARD


We are all either the victims or the beneficiaries of heredity and
environment. Stanley Obroski was one of the victims. Heredity had
given him a mighty physique, a noble bearing, and a handsome face.
Environment had sheltered and protected him throughout his life. Also,
every one with whom he had come in contact had admired his great
strength and attributed to him courage commensurate to it.

Never until the past few days had Obroski been confronted by an
emergency that might test his courage, and so all his life he had been
wondering if his courage would measure up to what was expected of it
when the emergency developed.

He had given the matter far more thought than does the man of ordinary
physique because he knew that so much more was expected of him than
of the ordinary man. It had become an obsession together with the fear
that he might not live up to the expectations of his admirers. And
finally he became afraid--afraid of being afraid.

It is a failing of nearly all large men to be keenly affected by
ridicule. It was the fear of ridicule, should he show fear, rather than
fear of physical suffering, that Obroski shrank from; though perhaps he
did not realize this. It was a psyche far too complex for easy analysis.

But the results were disastrous. They induced a subconscious urge to
avoid danger rather than risk showing fear and thus inducing ridicule.

And when the first shower of arrows fell among the cars of the safari
Obroski leaped from the opposite side of the automobile in which he
was riding and disappeared among the tall grasses that hemmed them in
on both sides. His reaction to danger had been entirely spontaneous--a
thing beyond his will.

As he pushed blindly forward he was as unthinking as a terrified animal
bent only upon escape. But he had covered only a few yards when he ran
directly into the arms of a giant black warrior.

Here indeed was an emergency. The black was as surprised as Obroski. He
probably thought that all the whites were charging to the attack; he
was terrified. He wanted to flee, but the white was too close; so he
leaped for him, calling loudly to his fellows as he did so.

It was too late for Obroski to escape the clutching fingers of the
black. If he didn't do something the man would kill him! If he could
get rid of the fellow he could run back to the safari. He _must_ get
rid of him!

The black had seized him by the clothes, and now Obroski saw a knife
in the fellow's free hand. Death stared him in the face! Heretofore
Obroski's dangers had always been more or less imaginary; now he was
faced with a stark reality.

Terror galvanized his mind and his giant muscles into instant action.
He seized the black and lifted him above his head; then he hurled him
heavily to the ground.

The black, fearful of his life, started to rise; and Obroski, equally
fearful of his own, lifted him again high overhead and again cast him
down. As he did so a half dozen blacks closed upon him from the tall
surrounding grasses and bore him to the earth.

His mind half numb with terror, Obroski fought like a cornered rat. The
blacks were no match for his great muscles. He seized them and tossed
them aside; then he turned to run. But the black he had first hurled to
the ground reached out and seized him by an ankle, tripping him; then
the others were upon him again and more came to their assistance. They
held him by force of numbers and bound his hands behind him.

In all his life Stanley Obroski had never fought before. A good
disposition and his strange complex had prevented him from seeking
trouble, and his great size and strength had deterred others from
picking quarrels with him. He had never realized his own strength; and
now, his mental faculties cloyed by terror, he only partly appreciated
it. All that he could think of was that they had bound his hands and he
was helpless; that they would kill him.

At last they dragged him to his feet. Why they did not kill him he
could not guess--then. They seemed a little awed by his great size and
strength. They jabbered much among themselves as they led him away
toward the forest.

Obroski heard the savage war cries of the main body as it attacked the
safari and the crack of rifles that told that his fellows were putting
up a spirited defense. A few bullets whirred close, and one of his
captors lunged forward with a slug in his heart.

They took him into the forest and along a winding trail where presently
they were overtaken by other members of the tribe, and with the arrival
of each new contingent he was surrounded by jabbering savages who
punched him and poked him, feeling of his great muscles, comparing his
height with theirs.

Bloodshot eyes glared from hideous, painted faces--glared in hatred
that required no knowledge of their language to interpret. Some
threatened him with spears and knives, but the party that had captured
him preserved him from these.

Stanley Obroski was so terrified that he walked as one in a trance,
giving no outward sign of any emotion; but the blacks thought that his
manner was indicative of the indifference of great bravery.

At last a very large warrior overtook them. He was resplendent in paint
and feathers, in many necklaces and armlets and anklets. He bore an
ornate shield, and his spear and his bow and the quiver for his arrows
were more gorgeously decorated than those of his fellows.

But it was his commanding presence and his air of authority more than
these that led Obroski to infer that he was a chief. As he listened to
the words of those who had made the capture, he examined the prisoner
with savage disdain; then he spoke commandingly to those about him and
strode on. The others followed, and afterward none threatened to harm
the white man.

All afternoon they marched, deeper and deeper into the gloomy forest.
The cords about Obroski's wrists cut into the flesh and hurt him;
another cord about his neck, by which a savage led him, was far too
tight for comfort; and when the savage jerked it, as he occasionally
did, Obroski was half choked.

He was very miserable, but he was so numb with terror that he made no
outcry nor any complaint. Perhaps he felt that it would be useless, and
that the less he caused them annoyance or called attention to himself
the better off he would be.

The result of this strategy, if such it were, he could not have
guessed; for he could not understand their words when they spoke among
themselves of the bravery of the white man who showed no fear.

During the long march his thoughts were often of the members of the
company he had deserted. He wondered how they had fared in the fight
and if any had been killed. He knew that many of the men had held him
in contempt before. What would they think of him now! Marcus must have
seen him run away at the first threat of danger. Obroski winced, the
old terrifying fear of ridicule swept over him; but it was nothing
compared to the acute terror he suffered as he shot quick glances about
him at the savage faces of his captors and recalled the stories he had
heard of torture and death at the hands of such as these.

He heard shouting ahead, and a moment later the trail debouched onto
a clearing in the center of which was a palisaded village of conical,
straw-thatched huts. It was late in the afternoon, and Obroski knew
that they must have covered considerable distance since his capture.
He wondered, in the event that he escaped or they released him, if he
could find his way back to the trail of the safari. He had his doubts.

As they entered the village, women and children pressed forward to see
him. They shouted at him. From the expressions of the faces of many
of the women he judged that they were reviling and cursing him. A few
struck or clawed at him. The children threw stones and refuse at him.

The warriors guarding him beat his assailants off, as they conducted
him down the single street of the village to a hut near the far end.
Here they motioned him to enter; but the doorway was so low that one
might only pass through it on hands and knees, and as his hands were
fastened behind his back that was out of the question for him. So they
threw him down and dragged him in. Then they bound his ankles and left
him.

The interior of the hut was dark, but as his eyes became accustomed to
the change from daylight he was able to see his surroundings dimly. It
was then that he became aware that he was not alone in the hut. Within
the range of his vision he saw three figures, evidently men. One was
stretched out upon the packed earth floor, the other two sat hunched
forward over their updrawn knees. He felt the eyes of the latter
upon him. He wondered what they were doing there--if they, too, were
prisoners.

Presently one of them spoke. "How the Bansuto get you, Bwana Simba?" It
was the name the blacks of the safari had given him because of the part
that he was to take in the picture, that of the Lion Man.

"Who the devil are you?" demanded Obroski.

"Kwamudi," replied the speaker.

"Kwamudi! Well, it didn't do you much good to run away--" He almost
added "either" but stopped himself in time. "They attacked the safari
shortly after noon. I was taken prisoner then. How did they get you?"

"Early this morning. I had followed my people, trying to get them to
return to the safari." Obroski guessed that Kwamudi was lying. "We ran
into a party of warriors coming from a distant village to join the main
tribe. They killed many of my people. Some escaped. They took some
prisoners. Of these they killed all but Kwamudi and these two. They
brought us here."

"What are they going to do with you? Why didn't they kill you when they
killed the others?"

"They not kill you, they not kill Kwamudi, they not kill these
others--yet--all for same reason. Kill by and by."

"Why? What do they want to kill us for?"

"They eat."

"Eh? You don't mean to say they're cannibals!"

"Not like some. Bansuto not eat men all time; not eat all men. Only
chiefs, brave men, strong men. Eat brave men, make them brave; eat
strong men, make them strong; eat chiefs, make them wise."

"How horrible!" muttered Obroski. "But they can't eat me--I am not a
chief--I am not brave--I am a coward," he mumbled.

"What, Bwana?"

"Oh, nothing. When do you suppose they'll do it? Right away?"

Kwamudi shook his head. "Maybe. Maybe not for long time. Witch doctor
make medicine, talk to spirits, talk to moon. They tell him when.
Maybe soon, maybe long time."

"And will they keep us tied up this way until they kill us? It's mighty
uncomfortable. But then, you aren't tied, are you?"

"Yes, Kwamudi tied--hands and feet. That why he lean forward across his
knees."

"Can you talk their language, Kwamudi?"

"A little."

"Ask them to free our hands, and our feet too if they will."

"No good. Waste talk."

"Listen, Kwamudi! They want us to be strong when they eat us, don't
they?"

"Yes, Bwana."

"Very well; then get hold of the chief and tell him that if he keeps
us tied up like this we'll get weak. He's certainly got brains enough
to know that that's true. He's got plenty of warriors to guard us, and
I don't see how we could get out of this village anyhow--not with all
those harpies and brats hanging around."

Kwamudi understood enough of what the white man had said to get the
main idea. "First time I get a chance, I tell him," he said.

Darkness fell. The light from the cooking fires was visible through the
low doorway of the prison hut. Women were screaming and wailing for
the warriors who had fallen in battle that day. Many had painted their
bodies from head to feet with ashes, rendering them even more hideous
than nature had fashioned them. Others laughed and gossiped.

Obroski was thirsty and hungry, but they brought him neither water
nor food. The hours dragged on. The warriors commenced to dance in
celebration of their victory. Tom-toms boomed dismally through the
night. The wails of the mourners, the screams and war cries of the
dancers rose and fell in savage consonance with the savage scene,
adding to the depression of the prisoners.

"This is no way to treat people you're going to eat," grumbled
Obroski. "You ought to get 'em fat, not starve 'em thin."

"Bansuto do not care about our fat," observed Kwamudi. "They eat our
hearts, the palms of our hands, the soles of our feet. They eat the
muscles from your arms and legs. They eat my brains."

"You're not very cheering, and you're not very complimentary," said
Obroski with a wry smile. "But at that there isn't much to choose
between our brains, for they've ended up by getting us both into the
same hole."




                                  IX

                               TREACHERY


Orman and Bill West entered the cook tent after supper. "We're going to
do the dishes, Rhonda," said the director. "We're so short-handed now
we got to take the K.K.'s off and give 'em to Pat for guard duty. Jimmy
and Shorty will stay on cooking and help with the other work."

Rhonda demurred with a shake of her head. "You boys have had a tough
day. All we've done is sit in an automobile. Sit down here and smoke
and talk to us--we need cheering up. The four of us can take care of
the dishes. Isn't that right?" She turned toward Jimmy, Shorty, and
Naomi.

"Sure!" said Jimmy and Shorty in unison.

Naomi nodded. "I've washed dishes till after midnight for a lot of Main
Street bums many a time. I guess I can wash 'em for you bums, too," she
added with a laugh. "But for the love o' Mike, do as Rhonda said--sit
down and talk to us, and _say something funny_. I'm nearly nuts."

There was a moment's awkward silence. They could have been only a
little more surprised had they seen Queen Mary turn handsprings across
Trafalgar Square.

Then Tom Orman laughed and slapped Naomi on the back. "Atta girl!" he
exclaimed.

Here was a new Madison; they were all sure that they were going to like
her better than the old.

"I don't mind sitting down," admitted West. "And I don't mind talking,
but I'm damned if I can be funny--I can't forget Clarence and Jerrold
and the rest of them."

"Poor Stanley," said Rhonda. "He won't even get a decent burial."

"He don't deserve one," growled Jimmy, who had served with the Marines;
"he deserted under fire."

"Let's not be too hard on him," begged Rhonda. "No one is a coward
because he wants to be. It's something one can't help. We ought to pity
him." Jimmy grumbled in dissent.

Bill West grunted. "Perhaps we would, if we were all stuck on him."

Rhonda turned and eyed him coolly. "He may have had his faults," she
said, "but at least I never heard him say an unkind thing about any
one."

"He was never awake long enough," said Jimmy contemptuously.

"I don't know what I'm goin' to do without him," observed Orman. "There
isn't anybody in the company I can double for him."

"You don't think you're going on with the picture after what's
happened, do you?" asked Naomi.

"That's what we came over here for, and that's what we're goin' to do
if it takes a leg," replied Orman.

"But you've lost your leading man and your heavy and your sound man and
a lot more, and you haven't any guides, and you haven't any porters.
If you think you can go on with a picture like that, you're just plain
cuckoo, Tom."

"I never saw a good director who wasn't cuckoo," said Bill West.

Pat O'Grady stuck his head inside the tent. "The Chief here?" he asked.
"Oh, there you are! Say, Tom, Atewy says old Ghrennem will stand all
the guard with his men from 12 to 6 if we'll take care of it from now
to midnight. He wants to know if that's all right with you. Atewy says
the Arabs can do better together than workin' with Americans that they
can't understand."

"O.K." replied Orman. "That's sort of decent of 'em takin' that
shift. It'll give our boys a chance to rest up before we shove off in
the morning, and God knows they need it. Tell 'em we'll call 'em at
midnight."

Exhausted by the physical and nervous strains of the day, those members
of the company that were not on guard were soon asleep. For the latter
it was a long stretch to midnight, a tour of duty rendered still
more trying by the deadly monotony of the almost unbroken silence of
the jungle. Only faintly from great distances came the usual sounds
to which they had become accustomed. It was as though they had been
abandoned by even the beasts of the forest. But at last midnight came,
and O'Grady awoke the Arabs. Tired men stumbled through the darkness to
their blankets, and within fifteen minutes every American in the camp
was deep in the sleep of utter exhaustion.

Even the unwonted activity of the Arabs could not arouse them; though,
to be sure, the swart sons of the desert moved as silently as the work
they were engaged upon permitted--rather unusual work it seemed for
those whose sole duty it was to guard the camp.

It was full daylight before an American stirred--several hours later
than it was customary for the life of the camp to begin.

Gordon Z. Marcus was the first to be up, for old age is prone to awaken
earlier than youth. He had dressed hurriedly, for he had noted the
daylight and the silence of the camp. Even before he came into the open
he sensed that something was amiss. He looked quickly about. The camp
seemed deserted. The fires had died to smoldering embers. No sentry
stood on guard.

Marcus hastened to the tent occupied by Orman and O'Grady, and without
formality burst into the interior. "Mr. Orman! Mr. Orman!" he shouted.

Orman and O'Grady, startled out of deep sleep by the excited voice of
the old character man, threw aside their mosquito bars and leaped from
their cots.

"What's wrong?" demanded Orman.

"The Arabs!" exclaimed Marcus. "They've gone! Their tents, their
horses, everything!"

Neither of the other men spoke as they quickly slipped into their
clothes and stepped out into the open. Orman looked quickly about the
camp.

"They must have been gone for hours," he said; "the fires are out."
Then he shrugged. "We'll have to get along without them, but that
doesn't mean that we got to stop eating. Where are the cooks? Wake the
girls, Marcus, please, and rout out Jimmy and Shorty."

"I thought those fellows were getting mighty considerate all of a
sudden when they offered to stand guard after midnight last night,"
remarked O'Grady.

"I might have known there was something phoney about it," growled
Orman. "They played me for a sucker. I'm nothin' but a damn boob."

"Here comes Marcus again," said O'Grady. "I wonder what's eatin' him
now--he looks fussed."

And Gordon Z. Marcus was fussed. Before he reached the two men he
called aloud to them. "The girls aren't there," he shouted, "and their
tent's a mess."

Orman turned and started on a run for the cook tent. "They're probably
getting breakfast," he explained. But there was no one in the cook tent.

Every one was astir now; and a thorough search of the camp was made,
but there was no sign of either Naomi Madison or Rhonda Terry. Bill
West searched the same places again and again, unwilling to believe the
abhorrent evidence of his own eyes. Orman was making a small pack of
food, blankets, and ammunition.

"Why do you suppose they took them?" asked Marcus.

"For ransom, most likely," suggest O'Grady.

"I wish I was sure of that," said Orman; "but there is still a safe
market for girls in Africa and Asia."

"I wonder why they tore everything to pieces so in the tent," mused
Marcus. "It looks like a cyclone had struck it."

"There wasn't any fight," said O'Grady. "It would have waked some of us
up if there had been."

"The Arabs were probably looking for loot," suggested Jimmy.

Bill West had been watching Orman. Now he too was making a pack. The
director noticed it.

"What do you think you're goin' to do?" he asked.

"I'm goin' with you," replied West.

Orman shook his head. "Nothing doing! This is my funeral."

West continued his preparations without reply.

"If you fellows are going out to look for the girls, I'm goin' with
you," announced O'Grady.

"Same here," said another.

The whole company volunteered.

"I'm goin' alone," announced Orman. "One man on foot can travel faster
than this motorcade and faster than men on horseback who will have to
stop and cut trail in places."

"But what in hell can one man do after he catches up with those rats?"
demanded O'Grady. "He'll just get himself killed. He can't fight 'em
all."

"I don't intend to fight," replied Orman. "I got the girls into this
mess by not using my head; I'm going to use it to get them out. Those
Arabs will do anything for money, and I can offer them more for the
girls than they can hope to get from any one else."

O'Grady scratched his head. "I guess you're right, Tom."

"Sure I'm right. You are in charge of the outfit while I'm away. Get
it to the Omwamwi Falls, and wait there for me. You'll be able to hire
natives there. Send a runner back to Jinja by the southern route with a
message for the studio telling what's happened and asking for orders if
I don't show up again in thirty days."

"You're not going without breakfast!" demanded Marcus.

"No; I'll eat first," replied Orman.

"How about grub?" shouted O'Grady.

"Comin' right up!" yelled back Shorty from the cook tent.

Orman ate hurriedly, giving final instructions to O'Grady between
mouthfuls. When he had finished he got up, shouldered his pack, and
picked up his rifle.

"So long, boys!" he said.

They crowded up to shake his hand and wish him luck. Bill West was
adjusting the straps of a pack that he had slung to his back. Orman
eyed him.

"You can't come, Bill," he said. "This is my job."

"I'm coming along," replied West.

"I won't let you."

"You and who else?" demanded West, and then added in a voice that he
tried hard to control, "Rhonda's out there somewhere."

The hard lines of grim stubbornness on Orman's face softened. "Come on
then," he said; "I hadn't thought of it that way, Bill."

The two men crossed the camp and picked up the plain trail of the
horsemen moving northward.




                                   X

                                TORTURE


Stanley Obroski had never before welcomed a dawn with such enthusiasm.
The new day might bring him death, but almost anything would be
preferable to the hideous discomforts of the long night that had
finally dragged its pain-racked length into the past.

His bonds had hurt him; his joints ached from long inaction and from
cold; he was hungry, but he suffered more from thirst; vermin crawled
over him at will and bit him; they and the cold and the hideous noises
of the mourners and the dancers and the drums had combined to deny him
sleep.

All these things had sapped his strength, both physical and nervous,
leaving him exhausted. He felt like a little child who was afraid and
wanted to cry. The urge to cry was almost irresistible. It seemed to
offer relief from the maddening tension.

A vague half-conviction forced its way into the muddy chaos of his
numb brain--crying would be a sign of fear, and fear meant cowardice!
Obroski did not cry. Instead, he found partial relief in swearing. He
had never been given to profanity, but even though he lacked practice
he acquitted himself nobly.

His efforts awoke Kwamudi who had slept peacefully in this familiar
environment. The two men conversed haltingly--mostly about their hunger
and thirst.

"Yell for water and food," suggested Obroski, "and keep on yelling
until they bring it."

Kwamudi thought that might be a good plan, and put it into execution.
After five minutes it brought results. One of the guards outside the
hut was awakened. He came in saying things.

In the meantime both the other prisoners had awakened and were
sitting up. One of these was nearer the hut doorway than his fellows.
He therefore chanced to be the first in the path of the guard, who
commenced to belabor him over the head and shoulders with the haft of
his spear.

"If you make any more noise like that," said the guard, "I'll cut out
the tongues of all of you." Then he went outside and fell asleep again.

"That idea," observed Obroski, "was not so hot."

"What, Bwana?" inquired Kwamudi.

The morning dragged on until almost noon, and still the village slept.
It was sleeping off the effects of the previous night's orgy. But
at last the women commenced to move about, making preparations for
breakfast.

Fully an hour later warriors came to the hut. They dragged and kicked
the prisoners into the open and jerked them to their feet after
removing the bonds from their ankles; then they led them to a large hut
near the center of the village. It was the hut of Rungula, chief of the
Bansutos.

Rungula sat on a low stool before the doorway. Behind him were ranged
the more important sub-chiefs; and on the flanks, forming a wide
semicircle, were grouped the remainder of the warriors--a thousand
savage fighting men from many a far-flung Bansuto village.

From the doorway of the chief's hut several of his wives watched the
proceedings, while a brood of children spewed out between their feet
into the open sunshine.

Rungula eyed the white prisoner with scowling brows; then he spoke to
him.

"What is he saying, Kwamudi?" asked Obroski.

"He is asking what you were doing in his country."

"Tell him that we were only passing through--that we are friends--that
he must let us go."

When Kwamudi interpreted Obroski's speech Rungula laughed. "Tell the
white man that only a chief who is greater than Rungula can say _must_
to Rungula and that there is no chief greater than Rungula.

"The white man will be killed and so will all his people. He would have
been killed yesterday had he not been so big and strong."

"He will not stay strong if he does not have food and water," replied
Kwamudi. "None of us will do you any good if you starve us and keep us
tied up."

Rungula thought this over and discussed it with some of his
lieutenants; then he stood up and approached Obroski. He fingered the
white man's shirt, jabbering incessantly. He appeared much impressed
also by Obroski's breeches and boots.

"He says for you to take off your clothes, Bwana," said Kwamudi; "he
wants them."

"All of them?" inquired Obroski.

"All of them, Bwana."

Exhausted by sleeplessness, discomfort, and terror, Obroski had felt
that nothing but torture and death could add to his misery; but now
the thought of nakedness awoke him to new horrors. To the civilized
man clothing imparts a self-confidence that is stripped away with his
garments. But Obroski dared not refuse.

"Tell him I can't take my clothes off with my hands tied behind my
back."

When Kwamudi had interpreted this last, Rungula directed that Obroski's
hands be released.

The white man removed his shirt and tossed it to Rungula. Then the
chief pointed at his boots. Slowly Obroski unlaced and removed them,
sitting on the ground to do so. Rungula became intrigued by the white
man's socks and jerked these off, himself.

Obroski rose and waited. Rungula felt of his great muscles and jabbered
some more with his fellows. Then he called his tallest warrior and
stood him beside the prisoner. Obroski towered above the man. The
blacks jabbered excitedly.

Rungula touched Obroski's breeches and grunted.

"He wants them," said Kwamudi.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, tell him to have a heart," exclaimed Obroski.
"Tell him I got to have something to wear."

Kwamudi and the chief spoke together briefly, with many gesticulations.

"Take them off, Bwana," said the former. "There is nothing else you can
do. He says he will give you something to wear."

As he unbuttoned his breeches and slipped them off, Obroski was
painfully aware of giggling girls and women in the background. But the
worst was yet to come--Rungula was greatly delighted by the gay silk
shorts that the removal of the breeches revealed.

When these had passed to the ownership of Rungula, Obroski could feel
the hot flush beneath the heavy coat of tan he had acquired on the
beach at Malibu.

"Tell him to give me something to wear," he begged.

Rungula laughed uproariously when the demand was made known to him; but
he turned and called something to the women in his hut, and a moment
later a little pickaninny came running out with a very dirty G string
which he threw at Obroski's feet.

Shortly after, the prisoners were returned to their hut; but their
ankles were not bound again, nor were Obroski's wrists. While he was
removing the bonds from the wrist of his fellow prisoners a woman came
with food and water for them. Thereafter they were fed with reasonable
regularity.

Monotonously the days dragged. Each slow, hideous night seemed an
eternity to the white prisoner. He shivered in his nakedness and sought
warmth by huddling close between the bodies of two of the blacks. All
of them were alive with vermin.

A week passed, and then one night some warriors came and took one
of the black prisoners away. Obroski and the others watched through
the doorway. The man disappeared around the corner of a hut near the
chief's. They never saw him again.

The tom-toms commenced their slow thrumming; the voices of men rose in
a weird chant; occasionally the watchers caught a glimpse of savage
dancers as their steps led them from behind the corner of a hut that
hid the remainder of the scene.

Suddenly a horrid scream of agony rose above the voices of the dancers.
For a half hour occasional groans punctuated the savage cries of the
warriors, but at last even these ceased.

"He is gone, Bwana," whispered Kwamudi.

"Yes, thank God!" muttered the white man. "What agony he must have
suffered!"

The following night warriors came and took away the second black
prisoner. Obroski tried to stop his ears against the sounds of the
man's passing. That night he was very cold, for there was only Kwamudi
to warm him on one side.

"Tomorrow night, Bwana," said the black, "you will sleep alone."

"And the next night--?"

"There will be none, Bwana--for you."

During the cold, sleepless hours Obroski's thoughts wandered back
through the past, the near past particularly. He thought of Naomi
Madison, and wondered if she were grieving much over his disappearance.
Something told him she was not.

Most of the other figures were pale in his thoughts--he neither liked
nor disliked them; but there was one who stood out even more clearly
than the memory picture of Naomi. It was Orman. His hatred of Orman
rose above all his other passions--it was greater than his love for
Naomi, greater than his fear of torture and death. He hugged it to his
breast now and nursed it and thanked God for it, because it made him
forget the lice and the cold and the things that were to happen to him
on the next night or the next.

The hours dragged on; day came and went, and night came again. Obroski
and Kwamudi, watching, saw warriors approaching the hut.

"They come, Bwana," said the black. "Good-bye!"

But this time they took them both. They took them to the open space
before the hut of Rungula, chief of the Bansutos, and tied them flat
against the boles of two trees, facing one another.

Here Obroski watched them work upon Kwamudi. He saw tortures so
fiendish, so horrible, so obscene that he feared for his reason,
thinking that these visions must be the figments of a mad brain. He
tried to look away, but the horror of it fascinated him. And so he saw
Kwamudi die.

Afterward he saw even more disgusting sights, sights that nauseated
him. He wondered when they would commence on him, and prayed that it
would be soon and soon over. He tried to steel himself against fear,
but he knew that he was afraid. By every means within the power of
his will he sought to bolster a determination not to give them the
satisfaction of knowing that he suffered when his turn came; for he had
seen that they gloated over the agonies of Kwamudi.

It was almost morning when they removed the thongs that bound him to
the tree and led him back to the hut. Then it became evident that they
were not going to kill him--this night. It meant that his agony was to
be prolonged.

In the cold of the coming dawn he huddled alone on the filthy floor of
his prison, sleepless and shivering; and the lice swarmed over his body
unmolested. He had plumbed the nadir of misery and hopelessness and
found there a dull apathy that preserved his reason.

Finally he slept, nor did he awaken until mid-afternoon. He was warm
then; and new life seemed to course through his veins, bringing new
hope. Now he commenced to plan. He would not die as the others had
died, like sheep led to the slaughter. The longer he considered his
plan the more anxious he became to put it into execution, awaiting
impatiently those who were to lead him to torture.

His plan did not include escape; for that he was sure was impossible,
but it did include a certain measure of revenge and death without
torture. Obroski's reason was tottering.

When he saw the warriors coming to get him he came out of the hut and
met them, a smile upon his lips.

Then they led him away as they had led the three blacks before him.




                                  XI

                            THE LAST VICTIM


Tarzan of the Apes was ranging a district that was new to him, and
with the keen alertness of the wild creature he was alive to all that
was strange or unusual. Upon the range of his knowledge depended his
ability to cope with the emergencies of an unaccustomed environment.
Nothing was so trivial that it did not require investigation; and
already, in certain matters concerning the haunts and habits of game
both large and small, he knew quite as much if not more than many
creatures that had been born here.

For three nights he had heard the almost continuous booming of
tom-toms, faintly from afar; and during the day following the third
night he had drifted slowly in his hunting in the direction from which
the sounds had come.

He had seen something of the natives who inhabited this region. He had
witnessed their methods of warfare against the whites who had invaded
their territory. His sympathies had been neither with one side nor the
other. He had seen Orman, drunk, lashing his black porters; and he had
felt that whatever misfortunes overtook him he deserved them.

Tarzan did not know these Tarmangani; and so they were even less to him
than the other beasts that they would have described as lower orders
but which Tarzan, who knew all orders well, considered their superiors
in many aspects of heart and mind.

Some passing whim, some slight incitement, might have caused him to
befriend them actively, as he had often befriended Numa and Sabor and
Sheeta, who were by nature his hereditary enemies. But no such whim
had seized him, no such incitement had occurred; and he had seen them
go upon their way and had scarcely given them a thought since the last
night that he had entered their camp.

He had heard the fusillade of shots that had followed the attack of
the Bansutos upon the safari; but he had been far away, and as he
had already witnessed similar attacks during the preceding days his
curiosity was not aroused; and he had not investigated.

The doings of the Bansutos interested him far more. The Tarmangani
would soon be gone--either dead or departed--but the Gomangani would be
here always; and he must know much about them if he were to remain in
their country.

Lazily he swung through the trees in the direction of their village.
He was alone now; for the great golden lion, Jad-bal-ja, was hunting
elsewhere, hunting trouble Tarzan thought with a half smile as he
recalled the sleek young lioness that the great beast had followed off
into the forest fastness.

It was dark before the ape-man reached the village of Rungula.
The rhythm of the tom-toms blended with a low, mournful chant. A
few warriors were dancing listlessly--a tentative excursion into
the borderland of savage ecstacy into which they would later hurl
themselves as their numbers increased with the increasing tempo of the
dance.

Tarzan watched from the concealment of the foliage of a tree at the
edge of the clearing that encircled the village. He was not greatly
interested; the savage orgies of the blacks were an old story to him.
Apparently there was nothing here to hold his attention, and he was
about to turn away when his eyes were attracted to the figure of a man
who contrasted strangely with the savage black warriors of the village.

He was entering the open space where the dancers were holding forth--a
tall, bronzed, almost naked white man surrounded by a group of
warriors. He was evidently a prisoner.

The ape-man's curiosity was aroused. Silently he dropped to the
ground, and keeping in the dense shadows of the forest well out of the
moonlight he circled to the back of the village. Here there was no
life, the interest of the villagers being centered upon the activities
near the chief's hut.

Cautiously but quickly Tarzan crossed the strip of moonlit ground
between the forest and the palisade. The latter was built of poles sunk
into the ground close together and lashed with pliant creepers. It was
about ten feet high.

A few quick steps, a running jump, and Tarzan's fingers closed upon the
top of the barrier. Drawing himself cautiously up, he looked over into
the village. In silence he listened, sniffing the air. Satisfied, he
threw a leg over the top of the palisade; and a moment later dropped
lightly to the ground inside the village of Rungula, the Bansuto.

When the ground had been cleared for the village a number of trees had
been left standing within the palisade to afford shelter from the
equatorial sun. One of these overhung Rungula's hut, as Tarzan had
noticed from the forest; and it was this tree that he chose from which
to examine the white prisoner more closely.

Keeping well in the rear of the chief's hut and moving cautiously from
the shadow of one hut to that of the next, the ape-man approached his
goal. Had he moved noisily the sound of his coming would have been
drowned by the tom-toms and the singing; but he moved without sound, as
was second nature to him.

The chance of discovery lay in the possibility that some native might
not have yet left his hut to join the throng around the dancers and
that such a belated one would see the strange white giant and raise an
alarm. But Tarzan came to the rear of Rungula's hut unseen.

Here fortune again favored him; for while the stem of the tree he
wished to enter stood in front of the hut in plain view of the entire
tribe another, smaller tree, grew at the rear of the hut; and, above
it, mingled its branches with its fellow.

As the ape-man moved stealthily into the trees and out upon a great
branch that would hold his weight without bending, the savage scene
below unfolded itself before him. The tempo of the dance had increased.
Painted warriors were leaping and stamping around a small group that
surrounded the prisoner, and as Tarzan's gaze fell upon the man he
experienced something in the nature of a shock. It was as though his
disembodied spirit hovered above and looked down upon himself, so
startling was the likeness of this man to the Lord of the Jungle.

In stature, in coloring, even in the molding of his features he was
a replica of Tarzan of the Apes; and Tarzan realized it instantly
although it is not always that we can see our own likeness in another
even when it exists.

Now indeed was the ape-man's interest aroused. He wondered who the man
was and where he had come from. By the merest accident of chance he
had not seen him when he had visited the camp of the picture company,
and so he did not connect him with these people. His failure to do so
might have been still further explained by the man's nakedness. The
clothing that had been stripped from him might, had he still worn it,
have served to place him definitely; but his nakedness gave him only
fellowship with the beasts. Perhaps that is why Tarzan was inclined to
be favorably impressed with him at first sight.

Obroski, unconscious that other eyes than those of black enemies were
upon him, gazed from sullen eyes upon the scene around him. Here, at
the hands of these people, his three fellow prisoners had met hideous
torture and death; but Obroski was in no mind to follow docilely in
their footsteps. He had a plan.

He expected to die. He could find no slenderest hope for any other
outcome, but he did not intend to submit supinely to torture. He had a
plan.

Rungula squatted upon a stool eyeing the scene from bloodshot eyes
beneath scowling brows. Presently he shouted directions to the warriors
guarding Obroski, and they led him toward the tree on the opposite side
of the open space. With thongs they prepared to bind him to the bole of
the tree, and then it was that the prisoner put his plan into action;
the plan of a fear-maddened brain.

Seizing the warrior nearest him he raised the man above his head as
though he had been but a little child and hurled him into the faces of
the others, knocking several of them to the ground. He sprang forward
and laid hold upon a dancing buck, and him he flung to earth so heavily
that he lay still as though dead.

So sudden, so unexpected had been his attack that it left the Bansutos
momentarily stunned; then Rungula leaped to his feet. "Seize him!" he
cried; "but do not harm him." Rungula wished the mighty stranger to
die after a manner of Rungula's own choosing, not the swift death that
Obroski had hoped to win by his single-handed attack upon a thousand
armed warriors.

As they closed upon him, Obroski felled them to right and left with
mighty blows rendered even more terrific by the fear-maddened brain
that directed them. Terror had driven him berserk.

The cries of the warriors, the screams of the women and children formed
a horrid cacophony in his ears that incited him to madder outbursts of
fury. The arms that reached out to seize him he seized and broke like
pipe stems.

He wanted to scream and curse, yet he fought in silence. He wanted to
cry out against the terror that engulfed him, but he made no sound. And
so, in terror, he fought a thousand men.

But this one-sided battle could not go on for long. Slowly, by force
of numbers, they closed upon him; they seized his ankles and his legs.
With heavy fists he struck men unconscious with a single blow; but at
last they dragged him down.

And then--




                                  XII

                                THE MAP


"Weyley!" sighed Eyad, dolorously. "Methinks the sheykh hath done wrong
to bring these _benat_ with us. Now will the _Nasara_ follow us with
many guns; they will never cease until they have destroyed us and taken
the _benat_ back for themselves--I know _el-Engleys_."

"_Ullah yelbisak berneta!_" scoffed Atewy.

"Thou foundest the map; was not that enough? They would not have
followed and killed us for the map, but when you take away men's women
they follow and kill--yes! be they Arab, English, or Negro." Eyad spat
a period.

"I will tell thee, fool, why we brought the two girls," said Atewy.
"There may be no valley of diamonds, or we may not find it. Should we
therefore, after much effort, return to our own country empty-handed?
These girls are not ill-favored. They will bring money at several
places of which I know, or it may be that the mad _Nasara_ will pay a
large ransom for their return. But in the end we shall profit if they
be not harmed by us; which reminds me, Eyad, that I have seen thee cast
evil eyes upon them. _Wellah!_ If one harms them the sheykh will kill
him; and if the sheykh doth not, I will."

"They will bring us nothing but trouble," insisted Eyad. "I wish that
we were rid of them."

"And there is still another reason why we brought them," continued
Atewy. "The map is written in the language of _el-Engleys_, which I can
speak but cannot read; the _benat_ will read it to me. Thus it is well
to keep them."

But still Eyad grumbled. He was a dour young _Bedauwy_ with
sinister eyes and a too full lower lip. Also, he did not speak what was
in his thoughts; for the truth was not in him.

Since very early in the morning the horsemen had been pushing northward
with the two girls. They had found and followed an open trail, and
so had suffered no delays. Near the center of the little column rode
the prisoners, often side by side; for much of the way the trail had
been wide. It had been a trying day for them, not alone because of the
fatigue of the hard ride, but from the nervous shock that the whole
misadventure had entailed since Atewy and two others had crept into
their tent scarcely more than an hour after midnight, silenced them
with threats of death, and, after ransacking the tent, carried them
away into the night.

All day long they had waited expectantly for signs of rescue, though
realizing that they were awaiting the impossible. Men on foot could not
have overtaken the horsemen, and no motor could traverse the trail they
had followed without long delays for clearing trail in many places.

"I can't stand much more," said Naomi. "I'm about through."

Rhonda reined closer to her. "If you feel like falling, take hold of
me," she said. "It can't last much longer today. They'll be making camp
soon. It sure has been a tough ride--not much like following Ernie Vogt
up Coldwater Canyon; and I used to come home from one of those rides
and think I'd done something. Whew! They must have paved this saddle
with bricks."

"I don't see how you can stay so cheerful."

"Cheerful! I'm about as cheerful as a Baby Star whose option hasn't
been renewed."

"Do you think they're going to kill us, Rhonda?"

"They wouldn't have bothered to bring us all this way to kill us.
They're probably after a ransom."

"I hope you're right. Tom'll pay 'em anything to get us back. But
suppose they're going to sell us! I've heard that they sell white girls
to black sultans in Africa."

"The black sultan that gets me is goin' to be out of luck."

The sun was low in the west when the Arabs made camp that night.
Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem had no doubt but that angry and determined men
were pursuing him, but he felt quite certain that now they could not
overtake him.

His first thought had been to put distance between himself and the
_Nasara_ he had betrayed--now he could look into the matter of the map
of which Atewy had told him, possession of which had been the principal
incentive of his knavery.

Supper over, he squatted where the light of the fire fell upon the
precious document; and Atewy leaning over his shoulder scanned it with
him.

"I can make nothing of it," growled the sheykh. "Fetch the _bint_ from
whom you took it."

"I shall have to fetch them both," replied Atewy, "since I cannot tell
them apart."

"Fetch them both then," commanded el-Ghrennem; and while he waited he
puffed meditatively upon his _nargily_, thinking of a valley filled
with diamonds and of the many riding camels and mares that they would
buy; so that he was in a mellow humor when Atewy returned with the
prisoners.

Rhonda walked with her chin up and the glint of battle in her eye, but
Naomi revealed her fear in her white face and trembling limbs.

Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem looked at her and smiled. "_Ma aleyk_," he said
in what were meant to be reassuring tones.

"He says," interpreted Atewy, "that thou hast nothing to fear--that
there shall no evil befall thee."

"You tell him," replied Rhonda, "that it will be just too bad for him
if any evil does befall us and that if he wants to save his skin he had
better return us to our people _pronto_."

"The _Bedauwy_ are not afraid of your people," replied Atewy, "but if
you do what the sheykh asks no harm will come to you."

"What does he want?" demanded Rhonda.

"He wishes you to help us find the valley of diamonds," replied Atewy.

"What valley of diamonds?"

"It is on this map which we cannot read because we cannot read the
language of _el-Engleys_." He pointed at the map the sheykh was holding.

Rhonda glanced at the paper and broke into laughter. "You don't mean
to tell me that you dumb bunnies kidnapped us because you believe that
there _is_ a valley of diamonds! Why, that's just a prop map."

"Dumb bunnies! Prop! I do not understand."

"I am trying to tell you that that map doesn't mean a thing. It was
just for use in the picture we are making. You might as well return us
to our people, for there isn't any valley of diamonds."

Atewy and the sheykh jabbered excitedly to one another for a few
moments, and then the former turned again to the girl. "You cannot make
fools of the _Bedauwy_," he said. "We are smarter than you. We knew
that you would say that there is no valley of diamonds, because you
want to save it all for your father. If you know what is well for you
you will read this map for us and help us find the valley. Otherwise--"
he scowled horridly and drew a forefinger across his throat.

Naomi shuddered; but Rhonda was not impressed--she knew that while they
had ransom or sale value that Arabs would not destroy them except as a
last resort for self-protection.

"You are not going to kill us, Atewy," she said, "even if I do not read
the map to you; but there is no reason why I should not read it. I am
perfectly willing to; only don't blame us if there is no valley of
diamonds."

"Come here and sit beside Ab el-Ghrennem and read the map to us,"
ordered Atewy.

Rhonda kneeled beside the sheykh and looked over his shoulder at the
yellowed, time worn map. With a slender finger she pointed at the
top of the map. "This is north," she said, "and up here--this is the
valley of diamonds. You see this little irregular thing directly west
of the valley and close to it? It has an arrow pointing to it and a
caption that says, '_Monolithic column: Red granite out-cropping near
only opening into valley_.' And right north of it this arrow points to
'_Entrance to valley_.'

"Now here, at the south end of the valley, is the word '_Falls_' and
below the falls a river that runs south and then southwest."

"Ask her what this is," the sheykh instructed Atewy, pointing to
characters at the eastern edge of the map southeast of the falls.

"That says '_Cannibal village_,'" explained the girl. "And all across
the map down there it says, '_Forest!_' See this river that rises at
the southeast edge of the valley, flows east, southeast, and then west
in a big loop before it enters the '_Big river_' here. Inside this
loop it says, '_Open country_,' and near the west end of the loop is a
'_Barren, cone-shaped hill--volcanic_.' Then here is another river that
rises in the southeast part of the map and flows northwest, emptying
into the second river just before the latter joins the big river."

Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem ran his fingers through his beard as he sat in
thoughtful contemplation of the map. At last he placed a finger on the
falls.

"_Shuf_, Atewy!" he exclaimed. "This should be the Omwamwi Falls, and
over here the village of the Bansuto. We are here." He pointed at a
spot near the junction of the second and third rivers. "Tomorrow we
should cross this other river and come into open country. There we
shall find a barren hill."

"_Billah!_" exclaimed Atewy. "If we do we shall soon be in the valley
of diamonds, for the rest of the way is plain."

"What did the sheik say?" asked Rhonda.

Atewy told her, adding, "We shall all be very rich; then I shall buy
you from the sheykh and take you back to my _ashirat_."

"You and who else?" scoffed Rhonda.

"_Billah!_ No one else. I shall buy you for myself alone."

"_Caveat emptor_," advised the girl.

"I do not understand, _bint_," said Atewy.

"You will if you ever buy _me_. And when you call me _bint_, smile. It
doesn't sound like a nice word."

Atewy grinned. He translated what she had said to the sheykh, and they
both laughed. "The _Narrawia_ would be good to have in the _beyt_ of Ab
el-Ghrennem," said the sheykh, who had understood nothing of what Atewy
had said to Rhonda. "When we are through with this expedition, I think
that I shall keep them both; for I shall be so rich that I shall not
have to sell them. This one will amuse me; she hath a quick tongue that
is like _aud_ in tasteless food."

Atewy was not pleased. He wanted Rhonda for himself; and he was
determined to have her, sheykh or no sheykh. It was then that plans
commenced to formulate in the mind of Atewy that would have caused
Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem's blood pressure to rise had he known of them.

The Arabs spread blankets on the ground near the fire for the two
girls; and the sentry who watched the camp was posted near, that they
might have no opportunity to escape.

"We've got to get away from these highbinders, Naomi," said Rhonda
as the girls lay close together beneath their blankets. "When they
find out that the valley of diamonds isn't just around the corner,
they're going to be sore. The poor saps really believe that that map
is genuine--they expect to find that barren, volcanic hill tomorrow.
When they don't find it tomorrow, nor next week nor next, they'll just
naturally sell us 'down river'; and by that time we'll be so far from
the outfit that we won't have a Chinaman's chance ever to find it."

"You mean to go out alone into this forest at night!" whispered Naomi,
aghast. "Think of the lions!"

"I am thinking of them; but I'm thinking of some fat, greasy, black
sultan too. I'd rather take a chance with the lion--he'd be sporting at
least."

"It's all so horrible! Oh, why did I ever leave Hollywood!"

"D'you know it's a funny thing, Naomi, that a woman has to fear her own
kind more than she does the beasts of the jungle. It sort o' makes one
wonder if there isn't something wrong somewhere--it's hard to believe
that a divine intelligence would create something in His own image
that was more brutal and cruel and corrupt than anything else that He
created. It kind of explains why some of the ancients worshipped snakes
and bulls and birds. I guess they had more sense than we have."

At the edge of the camp Atewy squatted beside Eyad. "You would like one
of the white _benat_, Eyad," whispered Atewy. "I have seen it in your
eyes."

Eyad eyed the other through narrowed lids. "Who would not?" he
demanded. "Am I not a man?"

"But you will not get one, for the sheykh is going to keep them both.
You will not get one--unless--"

"Unless what?" inquired Eyad.

"Unless an accident should befall Ab el-Ghrennem. Nor will you get so
many diamonds, for the sheykh's share of the booty is one fourth. If
there were no sheykh we should divide more between us."

"Thou art _hatab lil nar_," ejaculated Eyad.

"Perhaps I _am_ fuel for hell-fire," admitted Atewy, "but I shall burn
hot while I burn."

"What dost _thou_ get out of it?" inquired Eyad after a short silence.

Atewy breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. Eyad was coming around!
"The same as thou," he replied, "my full share of the diamonds and one
of the _benat_."

"Accidents befall sheykhs even as they befall other men,"
philosophized Eyad as he rolled himself in his blanket and prepared to
sleep.

Quiet fell upon the camp of the Arabs. A single sentry squatted by the
fire, half dozing. The other Arabs slept.

Not Rhonda Terry. She lay listening to the diminishing sounds of the
camp, she heard the breathing of sleeping men, she watched the sentry,
whose back was toward her.

She placed her lips close to one of Naomi Madison's beautiful ears.
"Listen!" she whispered, "but don't move nor make a sound. When I get
up, follow me. That is all you have to do. Don't make any noise."

"What are you going to do?" The Madison's voice was quavering.

"Shut up, and do as I tell you."

Rhonda Terry had been planning ahead. Mentally she had rehearsed every
smallest piece of business in the drama that was to be enacted. There
were no lines--at least she hoped there would be none. If there were
the tag might be very different from that which she hoped for.

She reached out and grasped a short, stout piece of wood that had been
gathered for the fire. Slowly, stealthily, cat-like, she drew herself
from her blankets. Trembling, Naomi Madison followed her.

Rhonda rose, the piece of firewood in her hand. She crept toward the
back of the unsuspecting sentry. She lifted the stick above the head of
the Arab. She swung it far back, and then--




                                 XIII

                                A GHOST


Orman and Bill West tramped on through the interminable forest. Day
after day they followed the plain trail of the horsemen, but then there
came a day that they lost it. Neither was an experienced tracker.
The trail had entered a small stream, but it had not emerged again
directly upon the opposite bank.

Assuming that the Arabs had ridden in the stream bed for some distance
either up or down before coming out on the other side, they had crossed
and searched up and down the little river but without success. It did
not occur to either of them that their quarry had come out upon the
same side that they had entered, and so they did not search upon that
side at all. Perhaps it was only natural that they should assume that
when one entered a river it was for the purpose of crossing it.

The meager food supply that they had brought from camp was exhausted,
and they had had little luck in finding game. A few monkeys and some
rodents had fallen to their rifles, temporarily averting starvation;
but the future looked none too bright. Eleven days had passed, and they
had accomplished nothing.

"And the worst of this mess," said Orman, "is that we're lost. We've
wandered so far from that stream where we lost the trail that we can't
find our back track."

"I don't want to find any back track," said West. "Until I find Rhonda
I'll never turn back."

"I'm afraid we're too late to do 'em much good now, Bill."

"We could take a few pot shots at those lousy Arabs."

"Yes, I'd like to do that; but I got to think of the rest of the
company. I got to get 'em out of this country. I thought we'd overtake
el-Ghrennem the first day and be back in camp the next. I've sure made
a mess of everything. Those two cases of Scotch will have cost close
to a million dollars and God knows how many lives before any of the
company sees Hollywood again.

"Think of it, Bill--Major White, Noice, Baine, Obroski, and seven
others killed, to say nothing of the Arabs and the girls gone.
Sometimes I think I'll go nuts just thinking about them."

West said nothing. He had been thinking about it a great deal, and
thinking too of the day when Orman must face the wives and sweethearts
of those men back in Hollywood. No matter what Orman's responsibility,
West pitied him.

When Orman spoke again it was as though he had read the other's mind.
"If it wasn't so damn yellow," he said, "I'd bump myself off; it would
be a lot easier than what I've got before me back home."

As the two men talked they were walking slowly along a game trail that
wandered out of one unknown into another. For long they had realized
that they were hopelessly lost.

"I don't know why we keep on," remarked West. "We don't know where
we're headed."

"We won't find out by sitting down, and maybe we'll find something or
some one if we keep going long enough."

West glanced suddenly behind him. "I thought so," he said in a low
tone. "I thought I'd been hearing something."

Orman's gaze followed that of his companion. "Anyway we got a good
reason now for not sitting down or turning back," he said.

"He's been following us for a long time," observed West. "I heard him
quite a way back, now that I think of it."

"I hope we're not detaining him."

"Why do you suppose he's following us?" asked West.

"Perhaps he's lonesome."

"Or hungry."

"Now that you mention it, he does look hungry," agreed Orman.

"This is a nasty place to be caught too. The trail's so narrow and with
this thick undergrowth on both sides we couldn't get out of the way of
a charge. And right here the trees are all too big to climb."

"We might shoot him," suggested Orman, "but I'm leary of these rifles.
White said they were a little too light to stop big game, and if we
don't stop him it'll be curtains for one of us."

"I'm a bum shot," admitted West. "I probably wouldn't even hit him."

"Well, he isn't coming any closer. Let's keep on going and see what
happens."

The men continued along the trail, continually casting glances
rearward. They held their rifles in readiness. Often, turns in the
trail hid from their view momentarily the grim stalker following in
their tracks.

"They look different out here, don't they?" remarked West. "Fiercer and
sort of--inevitable, if you know what I mean--like death and taxes."

"Especially death. And they take all the wind out of a superiority
complex. Sometimes when I've been directing I've thought that trainers
were a nuisance, but I'd sure like to see Charlie Gay step out of the
underbrush and say, '_Down, Slats!_'"

"Say, do you know this fellow looks something like Slats--got the same
mean eye?"

As they talked, the trail debouched into a small opening where there
was little underbrush and the trees grew farther apart. They had
advanced only a short distance into it when the stalking beast dogging
their footsteps rounded the last turn in the trail and entered the
clearing.

He paused a moment in the mouth of the trail, his tail twitching, his
great jowls dripping saliva. With lowered head he surveyed them from
yellow-green eyes, menacingly. Then he crouched and crept toward them.

"We've got to shoot, Bill;" said Orman; "he's going to charge."

The director shot first, his bullet creasing the lion's scalp. West
fired and missed. With a roar, the carnivore charged. The empty shell
jammed in the breech of West's rifle. Orman fired again when the lion
was but a few paces from him; then he clubbed his rifle as the beast
rose to seize him. A great paw sent the rifle hurtling aside, spinning
Orman dizzily after it.

West stood paralyzed, his useless weapon clutched in his hands. He saw
the lion wheel to spring upon Orman; then he saw something that left
him stunned, aghast. He saw an almost naked man drop from the tree
above them full upon the lion's back.

A great arm encircled the beast's neck as it reared and turned to rend
this new assailant. Bronzed legs locked quickly beneath its belly. A
knife flashed as great muscles drove the blade into the carnivore's
side again and again. The lion hurled itself from side to side as it
sought to shake the man from it. Its mighty roars thundered in the
quiet glade, shaking the earth.

Orman, uninjured, had scrambled to his feet. Both men, spellbound, were
watching this primitive battle of Titans. They heard the roars of the
man mingle with those of the lion, and they felt their flesh creep.

Presently the lion leaped high in air, and when he crashed to earth he
did not rise again. The man upon him leaped to his feet. For an instant
he surveyed the carcass; then he placed a foot upon it, and raising his
face toward the sky voiced a weird cry that sent cold shivers down the
spines of the two Americans.

As the last notes of that inhuman scream reverberated through the
forest, the stranger, without a glance at the two he had saved,
leaped for an overhanging branch, drew himself up into the tree, and
disappeared amidst the foliage above.

Orman, pale beneath his tan, turned toward West. "Did you see what I
saw, Bill?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"I don't know what you saw, but I know what I _thought_ I saw--but I
_couldn't_ have seen it."

"Do you believe in ghosts, Bill?"

"I--I don't know--you don't think?"

"You know as well as I do that that couldn't have been him; so it must
have been his ghost."

"But we never knew for sure that Obroski was dead, Tom."

"We know it now."




                                  XIV

                               A MADMAN


As Stanley Obroski was dragged to earth in the village of Rungula, the
Bansuto, a white man, naked but for a G string, looked down from the
foliage of an overhanging tree upon the scene below and upon the bulk
of the giant chieftain standing beneath him.

The pliant strands of a strong rope braided from jungle grasses swung
in his powerful hands, the shadow of a grim smile played about his
mouth.

Suddenly the rope shot downward; a running noose in its lower end
settled about Rungula's body, pinning his arms at his sides. A cry of
surprise and terror burst from the chief's lips as he felt himself
pinioned; and as those near him turned, attracted by his cry, they saw
him raised quickly from the ground to disappear in the foliage of the
tree above as though hoisted by some supernatural power.

Rungula felt himself dragged to a sturdy branch, and then a mighty hand
seized and steadied him. He was terrified, for he thought his end had
come. Below him a terrified silence had fallen upon the village. Even
the prisoner was forgotten in the excitement and fright that followed
the mysterious disappearance of the chief.

Obroski stood looking about him in amazement. Surrounded by struggling
warriors as he had been he had not seen the miracle of Rungula's
ascension. Now he saw every eye turned upward at the tree that towered
above the chief's hut. He wondered what had happened. He wondered what
they were looking at. He could see nothing unusual. All that lingered
in his memory to give him a clew was the sudden, affrighted cry of
Rungula as the noose had tightened about him.

Rungula heard a voice speaking, speaking his own language. "Look at
me!" it commanded.

Rungula turned his eyes toward the thing that held him. The light from
the village fires filtered through the foliage to dimly reveal the
features of a white man bending above him. Rungula gasped and shrank
back. "_Walumbe!_" he muttered in terror.

"I am the god of death," replied Tarzan; "I am not Walumbe. But I can
bring death just as quickly, for I am greater than Walumbe. I am Tarzan
of the Apes!"

"What do you want?" asked Rungula through chattering teeth. "What are
you going to do to me?"

"I tested you to see if you were a good man and your people good
people. I made myself into two men, and one I sent where your warriors
could capture him. I wanted to see what you would do to a stranger who
had not harmed you. Now I know. For what you have done you should die.
What have you to say?"

"You are here," said Rungula, "and you are also down there." He nodded
toward the figure of Obroski standing in surprised silence amidst
the warriors. "Therefore you must be a demon. What can I say to a
demon? I can give you food and drink and weapons. I can give you girls
who can cook and draw water and fetch wood and work all day in the
fields--girls with broad hips and strong backs. All these things will I
give you if you will not kill me--if you will just go away and leave us
alone."

"I do not want your food nor your weapons nor your women. I want but
one thing from you, Rungula, as the price of your life."

"What is that, Master?"

"Your promise that you will never again make war upon white men, and
that when they come through your country you will help them instead of
killing them."

"I promise, Master."

"Then call down to your people, and tell them to open the gates and let
the prisoner go out into the forest."

Rungula spoke in a loud voice to his people, and they fell away from
Obroski, leaving him standing alone; then warriors went to the village
gates and swung them open.

Obroski heard the voice of the chief coming from high in a tree,
and he was mystified. He also wondered at the strange action of the
natives and suspected treachery. Why should they fall back and leave
him standing alone when a few moments before they were trying to seize
him and bind him to a tree? Why should they throw the gates wide open?
He did not move. He waited, believing that he was being baited into an
attempt to escape for some ulterior purpose.

Presently another voice came from the tree above the chief's hut,
addressing him in English. "Go out of the village into the forest," it
said. "They will not harm you now. I will join you in the forest."

Obroski was mystified; but the quiet English voice reassured him, and
he turned and walked down the village street toward the gateway.

Tarzan removed the rope from about Rungula, ran lightly through the
tree to the rear of the hut and dropped to the ground. Keeping the huts
between himself and the villagers, he moved swiftly to the opposite
end of the village, scaled the palisade, and dropped into the clearing
beyond. A moment later he was in the forest and circling back toward
the point where Obroski was entering it.

The latter heard no slightest noise of his approach, for there was
none. One instant he was entirely alone, and the next a voice spoke
close behind him. "Follow me," it said.

Obroski wheeled. In the darkness of the forest night he saw dimly only
the figure of a man about his own height. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Tarzan of the Apes."

Obroski was silent, astonished. He had heard of Tarzan of the Apes,
but he had thought that it was no more than a legendary character--a
fiction of the folklore of Africa. He wondered if this were some
demented creature who imagined that it was Tarzan of the Apes. He
wished that he could see the fellow's face; that might give him a clew
to the sanity of the man. He wondered what the stranger's intentions
might be.

Tarzan of the Apes was moving away into the forest. He turned once and
repeated his command, "Follow me!"

"I haven't thanked you yet for getting me out of that mess," said
Obroski as he moved after the retreating figure of the stranger. "It
was certainly decent of you. I'd have been dead by now if it hadn't
been for you."

The ape-man moved on in silence, and Obroski followed him. The silence
preyed a little upon his nerves. It seemed to bear out his deduction
that the man was not quite normal, not as other men. A normal man would
have been asking and answering innumerable questions had he met a
stranger for the first time under such exciting circumstances.

And Obroski's deductions were not wholly inaccurate--Tarzan is not as
other men; the training and the instincts of the wild beast have given
him standards of behavior and a code of ethics peculiarly his own. For
Tarzan there are times for silence and times for speech. The depths of
the night, when hunting beasts are abroad, is no time to go gabbling
through the jungle; nor did he ever care much for speech with strangers
unless he could watch their eyes and the changing expressions upon
their faces, which often told him more than their words were intended
to convey.

So in the silence they moved through the forest, Obroski keeping close
behind the ape-man lest he lose sight of him in the darkness. Ahead of
them a lion roared; and the American wondered if his companion would
change his course or take refuge in a tree, but he did neither. He kept
on in the direction they had been going.

Occasionally the voice of the lion sounded ahead of them, always
closer. Obroski, unarmed and practically naked, felt utterly helpless
and, not unaccountably, nervous. Nor was his nervousness allayed when
a cry, half roar and half weird scream, burst from the throat of his
companion.

After that he heard nothing from the lion for some time; then,
seemingly just ahead of them, he heard throaty, coughing grunts. The
lion! Obroski could scarcely restrain a violent urge to scale a tree,
but he steeled himself and kept on after his guide.

Presently they came to an opening in the forest beside a river. The
moon had risen. Its mellow light flooded the scene, casting deep
shadows where tree and shrub dotted the grass carpeted clearing,
dancing on the swirling ripples of the river.

But the beauty of the scene held his eye for but a brief instant as
though through the shutter of a camera; then it was erased from his
consciousness by a figure looming large ahead of them in the full light
of the African moon. A great lion stood in the open watching them as
they approached. Obroski saw the black mane ripple in the night wind,
the sheen of the yellow body in the moonlight. Now, beyond him, rose a
lioness. She growled.

The stranger turned to Obroski. "Stay where you are," he said. "I do
not know this Sabor; she may be vicious."

Obroski stopped, gladly. He was relieved to discover that he had
stopped near a tree. He wished that he had a rifle, so that he might
save the life of the madman walking unconcernedly toward his doom.

Now he heard the voice of the man who called himself Tarzan of the
Apes, but he understood no word that the man spoke: "Tarmangani yo.
Jad-bal-ja tand bundolo. Savor tand bundolo."

The madman was talking to the great lion! Obroski trembled for him as
he saw him drawing nearer and nearer to the beast.

The lioness rose and slunk forward. "Kreeg-ah Sabor!" exclaimed the man.

The lion turned and rushed upon the lioness, snarling; she crouched and
leaped away. He stood over her growling for a moment; then he turned
and walked forward to meet the man. Obroski's heart stood still.

He saw the man lay a hand upon the head of the huge carnivore and then
turn and look back at him. "You may come up now," he said, "that
Jad-bal-ja may get your scent and know that you are a friend. Afterward
he will never harm you--unless I tell him to."

Obroski was terrified. He wanted to run, to climb the tree beside
which he stood, to do anything that would get him away from the lion
and the lioness; but he feared still more to leave the man who had
befriended him. Paralyzed by fright, he advanced; and Tarzan of the
Apes, believing him courageous, was pleased.

Jad-bal-ja was growling in his throat. Tarzan spoke to him in a low
voice, and he stopped. Obroski came and stood close to him, and the
lion sniffed at his legs and body. Obroski felt the hot breath of the
flesh eater on his skin.

"Put your hand on his head," said Tarzan. "If you are afraid do not
show it."

The American did as he was bid. Presently Jad-bal-ja rubbed his head
against the body of the man; then Tarzan spoke again, and the lion
turned and walked away toward the lioness, lying down beside her.

Now, for the first time, Obroski looked at his strange companion under
the light of the full moon. He voiced an exclamation of amazement--he
might have been looking into a mirror.

Tarzan smiled--one of his rare smiles. "Remarkable, isn't it?" he said.

"It's uncanny," replied Obroski.

"I think that is why I saved you from the Bansutos--it was too much
like seeing myself killed."

"I'm sure you would have saved me anyway."

The ape-man shrugged. "Why should I have? I did not know you."

Tarzan stretched his body upon the soft grasses. "We shall lie up here
for the night," he said.

Obroski shot a quick glance in the direction of the two lions lying a
few yards away, and Tarzan interpreted his thoughts.

"Don't worry about them," he said. "Jad-bal-ja will see that nothing
harms you, but look out for the lioness when he is not around. He
just picked her up the other day. She hasn't made friends with me yet,
and she probably never will. Now, if you care to, tell me what you are
doing in this country."

Briefly Obroski explained, and Tarzan listened until he had finished.

"If I had known you were one of that safari I probably would have let
the Bansutos kill you."

"Why? What have you got against us?"

"I saw your leader whipping his blacks," replied Tarzan.

Obroski was silent for a time. He had come to realize that this man
who called himself Tarzan of the Apes was a most remarkable man, and
that his power for good or evil in this savage country might easily
be considerable. He would be a good friend to have, and his enmity
might prove fatal. He could ruin their chances of making a successful
picture--he could ruin Orman.

Obroski did not like Orman. He had good reasons not to like him. Naomi
Madison was one of these reasons. But there were other things to
consider than a personal grudge. There was the money invested by the
studio, the careers of his fellow players, and even Orman--Orman was a
great director.

He explained all this to Tarzan--all except his hatred of Orman.
"Orman," he concluded, "was drunk when he whipped the blacks, he had
been down with fever, he was terribly worried. Those who knew him best
said it was most unlike him."

Tarzan made no comment, and Obroski said no more. He lay looking up
at the great full moon, thinking. He thought of Naomi and wondered.
What was there about her that he loved? She was petty, inconsiderate,
arrogant, spoiled. Her character could not compare with that of Rhonda
Terry, for instance; and Rhonda was fully as beautiful.

At last he decided that it was the glamour of the Madison's name and
fame that had attracted him--stripped of these, there was little about
her to inspire anything greater than an infatuation such as a man
might feel for any beautiful face and perfect body.

He thought of his companions of the safari, and wondered what they
would think if they could see him now lying down to sleep with a wild
man and two savage African lions. Smiling, he dozed and fell asleep.
He did not see the lioness rise and cross the clearing with Jad-bal-ja
pacing majestically behind her as they set forth upon the grim business
of the hunt.




                                  XV

                                TERROR


As Rhonda Terry stood with her weapon poised above the head of the
squatting sentry, the man turned his eyes quickly in her direction.
Instantly he realized his danger and started to rise as the stick
descended; thus the blow had far more force than it otherwise would
have, and he sank senseless to the ground without uttering a sound.

The girl looked quickly about upon the sleeping camp. No one stirred.
She beckoned the trembling Naomi to follow her and stepped quickly to
where some horse trappings lay upon the ground. She handed a saddle and
bridle to the Madison and took others for herself.

Half dragging, half carrying their burdens they crept to the tethered
ponies. Here, the Madison was almost helpless; and Rhonda had to saddle
and bridle both animals, giving thanks for the curiosity that had
prompted her days before to examine the Arab tack and learn the method
of its adjustment.

Naomi mounted, and Rhonda passed the bridle reins of her own pony to
her companion. "Hold him," she whispered, "and hold him tight."

She went quickly then to the other ponies, turning them loose one after
another. Often she glanced toward the sleeping men. If one of them
should awaken, they would be recaptured. But if she could carry out her
plan they would be safe from pursuit. She felt that it was worth the
risk.

Finally the last pony was loose. Already, cognizant of their freedom,
some of them had commenced to move about. Herein had lain one of the
principal dangers of the girl's plan, for free horses moving about a
camp must quickly awaken such horsemen as the Beduins.

She ran quickly to her own pony and mounted. "We are going to try to
drive them ahead of us for a little way," she whispered. "If we can do
that we shall be safe--as far as Arabs are concerned."

As quietly as they could, the girls reined their ponies behind the
loose stock and urged them away from camp. It seemed incredible to
Rhonda that the noise did not awaken the Arabs.

The ponies had been tethered upon the north side of the camp, and so it
was toward the north that they drove them. This was not the direction
in which their own safari lay, but Rhonda planned to circle back around
the Arabs after she had succeeded in driving off their mounts.

Slowly the unwilling ponies moved toward the black shadows of the
forest beyond the little opening in which the camp had been pitched--a
hundred feet, two hundred, three hundred. They were almost at the edge
of the forest when a cry arose from behind them. Then the angry voices
of many men came to them in a babel of strange words and stranger Arab
oaths.

It was a bright, starlit night. Rhonda knew that the Arabs could see
them. She turned in her saddle and saw them running swiftly in pursuit.
With a cowboy yell and a kick of her heels she urged her pony onto the
heels of those ahead. Startled, they broke into a trot.

"Yell, Naomi!" cried the girl. "Do anything to frighten them and make
them run."

The Madison did her best, and the yells of the running men approaching
added to the nervousness of the ponies. Then one of the Arabs fired his
musket; and as the bullet whistled above their heads the ponies broke
into a run, and, followed by the two girls, disappeared into the forest.

The leading pony had either seen or stumbled upon a trail, and down
this they galloped. Every step was fraught with danger for the two
fugitives. A low hanging branch or a misstep by one of their mounts
would spell disaster, yet neither sought to slacken the speed. Perhaps
they both felt that anything would be preferable to falling again into
the hands of old Ab el-Ghrennem.

It was not until the voices of the men behind them were lost in the
distance that Rhonda reined her pony to a walk. "Well, we made it!"
she cried exultantly. "I'll bet old Apple Gran'ma'am is chewing his
whiskers. How do you feel--tired?"

The Madison made no reply; then Rhonda heard her sobbing. "What's the
matter?" she demanded. "You haven't been hurt, have you?" Her tone was
worried and solicitous.

"I--I'm--so frightened. Oh, I--never was so frightened in all my life,"
sobbed the Madison.

"Oh, buck up, Naomi; neither was I; but weeping and wailing and
gnashing our teeth won't do us any good. We got away from them, and a
few hours ago that seemed impossible. Now all we have to do is ride
back to the safari, and the chances are we'll meet some of the boys
looking for us."

"I'll never see any of them again. I've known all along that I'd die in
this awful country," and she commenced to sob again hysterically.

Rhonda reined close to her side and put an arm around her. "It _is_
terrible, dear," she said; "but we'll pull through. I'll get you out
of this, and some day we'll lie in the sand at Malibu again and laugh
about it."

For a time neither of them spoke. The ponies moved on through the dark
forest at a walk. Ahead of them the loose animals followed the trail
that human eyes could not see. Occasionally one of them would pause,
snorting, sensing something that the girls could neither see nor hear;
then Rhonda would urge them on again, and so the long hours dragged out
toward a new day.

After a long silence, Naomi spoke. "Rhonda," she said, "I don't see
how you can be so decent to me. I used to treat you so rotten. I acted
like a dirty little cat. I can see it now. The last few days have done
something to me--opened my eyes, I guess. Don't say anything--I just
want you to know--that's all."

"I understand," said Rhonda softly. "It's Hollywood--we all try to be
something we're not, and most of us succeed only in being something we
ought not to be."

Ahead of them the trail suddenly widened, and the loose horses came to
a stop. Rhonda tried to urge them on, but they only milled about and
would not advance.

"I wonder what's wrong," she said and urged her pony forward to find
a river barring their path. It was not a very large river; and she
decided to drive the ponies into it, but they would not go.

"What are we to do?" asked Naomi.

"We can't stay here," replied Rhonda. "We've got to keep on going for a
while. If we turn back now we'll run into the shieks."

"But we can't cross this river."

"I don't know about that. There must be a ford here--this trail runs
right to the river, right into it. You can see how it's worn down the
bank right into the water. I'm going to try it."

"Oh, Rhonda, we'll drown!"

"They say it's an easy death. Come on!" She urged her pony down the
bank into the water. "I hate to leave these other ponies," she said.
"The shieks'll find them and follow us, but if we can't drive them
across there's nothing else to be done."

Her pony balked a little at the edge of the water, but at last he
stepped in, snorting. "Keep close to me, Naomi. I have an idea two
horses will cross better together than one alone. If we get into deep
water try to keep your horse's head pointed toward the opposite bank."

Gingerly the two ponies waded out into the stream. It was neither deep
nor swift, and they soon gained confidence. On the bank behind them the
other ponies gathered, nickering to their companions.

As they approached the opposite shore Rhonda heard a splashing in the
water behind her. Turning her head, she saw the loose ponies following
them across; and she laughed. "Now I've learned something," she said.
"Here we've been driving them all night, and if we'd left 'em alone
they'd have followed us."

Dawn broke shortly after they had made the crossing, and the light
of the new day revealed an open country dotted with trees and clumps
of brush. In the northwest loomed a range of mountains. It was very
different country from any they had seen for a long time.

"How lovely!" exclaimed Rhonda.

"Anything would be lovely after that forest," replied Naomi. "I got so
that I hated it."

Suddenly Rhonda drew rein and pointed. "Do you see what I see?" she
demanded.

"That hill?"

"Do you realize that we have just crossed a river out of a forest
and come into open country and that there is a 'barren, cone-shaped
hill--volcanic'?"

"You don't mean--!"

"The map! And there, to the northwest, are the mountains. If it's a
mere coincidence it's a mighty uncanny one."

Naomi was about to reply when both their ponies halted, trembling. With
dilated nostrils and up-pricked ears they stared at a patch of brush
close upon their right and just ahead. Both girls looked in the same
direction.

Suddenly a tawny figure broke from the brush with a terrific roar. The
ponies turned and bolted. Rhonda's was to the right of Naomi's and half
a neck in advance. The lion was coming from Rhonda's side. Both ponies
were uncontrollable. The loose horses were bolting like frightened
antelopes.

Naomi, fascinated, kept her eyes upon the lion. It moved with
incredible speed. She saw it leap and seize the rump of Rhonda's pony
with fangs and talons. Its hindquarters swung down under the pony's
belly. The frightened creature kicked and lunged, hurling Rhonda from
the saddle; and then the lion dragged it down before the eyes of the
terrified Madison.

Naomi's pony carried her from the frightful scene. Once she looked
back. She saw the lion standing with its forepaws on the carcass of the
pony. Only a few feet away Rhonda's body lay motionless.

The frightened ponies raced back along the trail they had come. Naomi
was utterly powerless to check or guide the terrified creature that
carried her swiftly in the wake of its fellows. The distance they had
covered in the last hour was traversed in minutes as the frightened
animals drew new terror from the galloping hoofs of their comrades.

The river that they had feared to cross before did not check them now.
Lunging across, they threw water high in air, waking the echoes of the
forest with their splashing.

Heartsick, terrified, hopeless, the girl clung to her mount; but for
once in her life the thoughts of the Madison were not of herself. The
memory of that still figure lying close to the dread carnivore crowded
thoughts of self from her mind--her terror and her hopelessness and her
heartsickness were for Rhonda Terry.




                                  XVI

                                 EYAD


Long day had followed long day as Orman and West searched vainly
through dense forest and jungle for the trail they had lost. Nearly
two weeks had passed since they had left camp in search of the girls
when their encounter with the lion and the "ghost" of Obroski took
place.

The encounter left them unnerved, for both were weak from lack of food
and their nerves harassed by what they had passed through and by worry
over the fate of Naomi and Rhonda.

They stood for some time by the carcass of the lion looking and
listening for a return of the apparition.

"Do you suppose," suggested West, "that hunger and worry could have
affected us so much that we imagined we saw--what we think we saw?"

Orman pointed at the dead lion. "Are we imagining _that_?" he demanded.
"Could we both have the same hallucination at the same instant? No! We
saw what we saw. I don't believe in ghosts--or I never did before--but
if that wasn't Obroski's ghost it was Obroski; and you know as well as
I that Obroski would never have had the guts to tackle a lion even if
he could have gotten away with it."

West rubbed his chin meditatively. "You know, another explanation has
occurred to me. Obroski was the world's prize coward. He may have
escaped the Bansutos and got lost in the jungle. If he did, he would
have been scared stiff every minute of the days and nights. Terror
might have driven him crazy. He may be a madman now, and you know
maniacs are supposed to be ten times as strong as ordinary men."

"I don't know about maniacs being any stronger," said Orman; "that's a
popular theory, and popular theories are always wrong; but every one
knows that when a man's crazy he does things that he wouldn't do when
he's sane. So perhaps you're right--perhaps that was Obroski gone nuts.
No one but a nut would jump a lion; and Obroski certainly wouldn't have
saved my life if he'd been sane--he didn't have any reason to be very
fond of me."

"Well, whatever prompted him, he did us a good turn in more ways than
one--he left us something to eat." West nodded toward the carcass of
the lion.

"I hope we can keep him down," said Orman; "he looks mangy."

"I don't fancy cat meat myself," admitted West, "but I could eat a pet
dog right now."

After they had eaten and cut off pieces of the meat to carry with them
they set out again upon their seemingly fruitless search. The food gave
them new strength; but it did little to raise their spirits, and they
plodded on as dejected as before.

Toward evening West, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly and drew
back, cautioning Orman to silence. The latter advanced cautiously to
where West stood pointing ahead at a lone figure squatting over a small
fire near the bank of a stream.

"It's one of el-Ghrennem's men," said West.

"It's Eyad," replied Orman. "Do you see any one with him?"

"No. What do you suppose he is doing here alone?"

"We'll find out. Be ready to shoot if he tries any funny business or if
any more of them show up."

Orman advanced upon the lone figure, his rifle ready; and West followed
at his elbow. They had covered only a few yards when Eyad looked up and
discovered them. Seizing his musket, he leaped to his feet; but Orman
covered him.

"Drop that gun!" ordered the director.

Eyad understood no English, but he made a shrewd guess at the meaning
of the words, doubtless from the peremptory tone of the American's
voice, and lowered the butt of his musket to the ground.

The two approached him. "Where is el-Ghrennem?" demanded Orman. "Where
are Miss Madison and Miss Terry?"

Eyad recognized the names and the interrogatory inflection. Pointing
toward the north he spoke volubly in Arabic. Neither Orman nor West
understood what he said, but they saw that he was much excited. They
saw too that he was emaciated, his garments in rags, and his face and
body covered with wounds. It was evident that he had been through some
rough experiences.

When Eyad realized that the Americans could not understand him he
resorted to pantomime, though he continued to jabber in Arabic.

"Can you make out what he's driving at, Tom?" asked West.

"I picked up a few words from Atewy but not many. Something terrible
seems to have happened to all the rest of the party--this bird is
scared stiff. I get _sheykh_ and _el-Beduw_ and _benat_; he's talking
about el-Ghrennem, the other Beduins, and the girls--_benat_ is the
plural of _bint_, girl. One of the girls has been killed by some
animal--from the way he growled and roared when he was explaining it, I
guess it must have been a lion. Some other fate befell the rest of the
party, and I guess it must have been pretty awful."

West paled. "Does he know which girl was killed?" he asked.

"I can't make out which one--perhaps both are dead."

"We've got to find out. We've got to go after them. Can he tell us
where they were when this thing happened?"

"I'm going to make him guide us," replied Orman. "There's no use going
on tonight--it's too late. In the morning we'll start."

They made a poor camp and cooked some of their lion meat. Eyad ate
ravenously. It was evident that he had been some time without food.
Then they lay down and tried to sleep, but futile worry kept the two
Americans awake until late into the night.

To the south of them, several miles away, Stanley Obroski crouched in
the fork of a tree and shivered from cold and fear. Below him a lion
and lioness fed upon the carcass of a buck. Hyenas, mouthing their
uncanny cries, slunk in a wide circle about them. Obroski saw one,
spurred by hunger to greater courage, slink in to seize a mouthful of
the kill. The great lion, turning his head, saw the thief and charged
him, growling savagely. The hyena retreated but not quickly enough. A
mighty, raking paw flung it bleeding and lifeless among its fellows.
Obroski shuddered and clung more tightly to the tree. A full moon
looked down upon the savage scene.

Presently the figure of a man strode silently into the clearing. The
lion looked up and growled and an answering growl came from the throat
of the man. Then a hyena charged him, and Obroski gasped in dismay.
What would become of him if this man were killed! He feared him, but he
feared him least of all the other horrid creatures of the jungle.

He saw the man side-step the charge, then stoop quickly and seize the
unclean beast by the scruff of its neck. He shook it once, then hurled
it onto the kill where the two lions fed. The lioness closed her great
jaws upon it once and then cast it aside. The other hyenas laughed
hideously.

Tarzan looked about him. "Obroski!" he called.

"I'm up here," replied the American.

Tarzan swung lightly into the tree beside him. "I saw two of your
people today," he said--"Orman and West."

"Where are they? What did they say?"

"I did not talk with them. They are a few miles north of us. I think
they are lost."

"Who was with them?"

"They were alone. I looked for their safari, but it was nowhere near.
Farther north I saw an Arab from your safari. He was lost and starving."

"The safari must be broken up and scattered," said Obroski. "What could
have happened? What could have become of the girls?"

"Tomorrow we'll start after Orman," said Tarzan. "Perhaps he can answer
your questions."




                                 XVII

                                 ALONE


For several moments Rhonda Terry lay quietly where she had been hurled
by her terrified horse. The lion stood with his forefeet on the carcass
of his kill growling angrily after the fleeing animal that was carrying
Naomi Madison back toward the forest.

As Rhonda Terry gained consciousness the first thing that she saw as
she opened her eyes was the figure of the lion standing with its back
toward her, and instantly she recalled all that had transpired. She
tried to find Naomi without moving her head, for she did not wish to
attract the attention of the lion; but she could see nothing of the
Madison.

The lion sniffed at his kill; then he turned and looked about. His
eyes fell on the girl, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. Rhonda
froze in terror. She wanted to close her eyes to shut out the hideous
snarling face, but she feared that even this slight movement would
bring the beast upon her. She recalled having heard that if animals
thought a person dead they would not molest the body. It also occurred
to her that this might not hold true in respect to meat eaters.

So terrified was she that it was with the utmost difficulty that she
curbed an urge to leap to her feet and run, although she knew that such
an act would prove instantly fatal. The great cat could have overtaken
her with a single bound.

The lion wheeled slowly about and approached her, and all the while
that low growl rumbled in his throat. He came close and sniffed at her
body. She felt his hot breath against her face, and its odor sickened
her.

The beast seemed nervous and uncertain. Suddenly he lowered his face
close to hers and growled ferociously, his eyes blazed into hers. She
thought that the end had come. The brute raised a paw and seized her
shoulder. He turned her over on her face. She heard him sniffing and
growling above her. For what seemed an eternity to the frightened girl
he stood there; then she realized that he had walked away.

From her one unobscured eye she watched him after a brief instant that
she had become very dizzy and almost swooned. He returned to the body
of the horse and worried it for a moment; then he seized it and dragged
it toward the bushes from which he had leaped to the attack.

The girl marvelled at the mighty strength of the beast, as it dragged
the carcass without seeming effort and disappeared in the thicket. Now
she commenced to wonder if she had been miraculously spared or if the
lion, having hidden the body of the horse, would return for her.

She raised her head a little and looked around. About twenty feet away
grew a small tree. She lay between it and the thicket where she could
hear the lion growling.

Cautiously she commenced to drag her body toward the tree, glancing
constantly behind in the direction of the thicket. Inch by inch, foot
by foot she made her slow way. Five feet, ten, fifteen! She glanced
back and saw the lion's head and forequarters emerge from the brush.

No longer was there place for stealth. Leaping to her feet she raced
for the tree. Behind, she heard the angry roar of the lion as it
charged.

She sprang for a low branch and scrambled upward. Terror gave her an
agility and a strength far beyond her normal powers. As she climbed
frantically upward among the branches she felt the tree tremble to
the impact of the lion's body as it hurtled against the bole, and the
raking talons of one great paw swept just beneath her foot.

Rhonda Terry did not stop climbing until she had reached a point beyond
which she dared not go; then, clinging to the now slender stem, she
looked down.

The lion stood glaring up at her. For a few minutes he paced about the
tree; and then, with an angry growl, he strode majestically back to his
thicket.

It was not until then that the girl descended to a more secure and
comfortable perch, where she sat trembling for a long time as she
sought to compose herself.

She had escaped the lion, at least temporarily; but what lay in the
future for her? Alone, unarmed, lost in a savage wilderness, upon what
thin thread could she hang even the slightest vestige of a hope!

She wondered what had become of Naomi. She almost wished that they had
never attempted to escape from the Arabs. If Tom Orman and Bill West
and the others were looking for them they might have had a chance to
find them had they remained the captives of old Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem,
but now how could any one ever find them?

From her tree sanctuary she could see quite a distance in all
directions. A tree dotted plain extended northwest toward a range of
mountains. Close to the northeast of her rose the volcanic, cone-shaped
hill that she had been pointing out to Naomi when the lion charged.

All these landmarks, following so closely the description on the map,
intrigued her curiosity and started her to wondering and dreaming about
the valley of diamonds. Suddenly she recalled something that Atewy had
told her--that the falls at the foot of the valley of diamonds must be
the Omwamwi Falls toward which the safari had been moving.

If that were true she would stand a better chance of rejoining the
company were she to make her way to the falls and await them there than
to return to the forest where she was certain to become lost.

She found it a little amusing that she should suddenly be pinning her
faith to a property map, but her situation was such that she must grasp
at any straw.

The mountains did not seem very far away, but she knew that distances
were usually deceiving. She thought that she might reach them in a day,
and believed that she might hold out without food or water until she
reached the river that she prayed might be there.

Every minute was precious now, but she could not start while the lion
lay up in the nearby thicket. She could hear him growling as he tore at
the carcass of the horse.

An hour passed, and then she saw the lion emerge from his lair. He did
not even glance toward her, but moved off in a southerly direction
toward the river that she and Naomi had crossed a few hours before.

The girl watched the beast until it disappeared in the brush that grew
near the river; then she slipped from the tree and started toward the
northwest and the mountains.

The day was still young, the terrain not too difficult, and Rhonda felt
comparatively fresh and strong despite her night ride and the harrowing
experiences of the last few hours--a combination of circumstances that
buoyed her with hope.

The plain was dotted with trees, and the girl directed her steps so
that she might at all times be as near as possible to one of these.
Sometimes this required a zigzag course that lengthened the distance,
but after her experience with the lion she did not dare be far from
sanctuary at any time.

She turned often to look back in the direction she had come, lest the
lion follow and surprise her. As the hours passed the sun shone down
hotter and hotter. Rhonda commenced to suffer from hunger and thirst;
her steps were dragging; her feet seemed weighted with lead. More
and more often she stopped beneath the shade of a tree to rest. The
mountains seemed as far away as ever. Doubts assailed her.

A shadow moved across the ground before her. She looked up. Circling
above was a vulture. She shuddered. "I wonder if he only hopes," she
said aloud, "or if he knows."

But she kept doggedly on. She would not give up--not until she dropped
in her tracks. She wondered how long it would be before that happened.

Once as she was approaching a large black rock that lay across her
path it moved and stood up, and she saw that it was a rhinoceros. The
beast ran around foolishly for a moment, its nose in the air; then it
charged. Rhonda clambered into a tree, and the great beast tore by
like a steam locomotive gone must.

As it raced off with its silly little tail in air the girl smiled. She
realized that she had forgotten her exhaustion under the stress of
emergency, as bed-ridden cripples sometimes forget their affliction
when the house catches fire.

The adventure renewed her belief in her ability to reach the river,
and she moved on again in a more hopeful frame of mind. But as hot and
dusty hour followed hot and dusty hour and the pangs of thirst assailed
her with increasing violence, her courage faltered again in the face of
the weariness that seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of her bones.

For a long time she had been walking in a depression of the rolling
plain, her view circumscribed by the higher ground around her. The day
was drawing to a close. Her lengthening shadow fell away behind her.
The low sun was in her eyes.

She wanted to sit down and rest, but she was afraid that she would
never get up again. More than that, she wanted to see what lay beyond
the next rise in the ground. It is always the next summit that lures
the traveller on even though experience may have taught him that he
need expect nothing more than another rise of ground farther on.

The climb ahead of her was steeper than she had anticipated, and it
required all her strength and courage to reach the top of what she
guessed might have been an ancient river bank or, perhaps, a lateral
moraine; but the view that was revealed rewarded her for the great
effort.

Below her was a fringe of wood through which she could see a broad
river, and to her right the mountains seemed very close now.

Forgetful of lurking beast or savage men, the thirst tortured girl
hurried down toward the tempting water of the river. As she neared the
bank she saw a dozen great forms floating on the surface of the water.
A huge head was raised with wide distended jaws revealing a cavernous
maw, but Rhonda did not pause. She rushed to the bank of the river and
threw herself face down and drank while the hippopotamuses, snorting
and grunting, viewed her with disapproval.

That night she slept in a tree, dozing fitfully and awakening to every
sudden jungle noise. From the plain came the roar of the hunting lions.
Below her a great herd of hippopotamuses came out of the river to feed
on land, their grunting and snorting dispelling all thoughts of sleep.
In the distance she heard the yelp of the jackal and the weird cry of
the hyena, and there were other strange and terrifying noises that she
could not classify. It was not a pleasant night.

Morning found her weak from loss of sleep, fatigue, and hunger. She
knew that she must get food, but she did not know how to get it. She
thought that perhaps the safari had reached the falls by now, and she
determined to go up river in search of the falls in the hope that she
might find her people--a vague hope in the realization of which she had
little faith.

She discovered a fairly good game trail paralleling the river, and this
she followed up stream. As she stumbled on she became conscious of
an insistent, muffled roaring in the distance. It grew louder as she
advanced, and she guessed that she was approaching the falls.

Toward noon she reached them--an imposing sight much of the grandeur of
which was lost on her fatigue benumbed sensibilities. The great river
poured over the rim of a mighty escarpment that towered far above her.
A smother of white water and spume filled the gorge at the foot of the
falls. The thunderous roar of the falling water was deafening.

Slowly the grandeur and the solitude of the scene gripped her. She
felt as might one who stood alone, the sole inhabitant of a world, and
looked upon an eternal scene that no human eye had ever scanned before.

But she was not alone. Far up, near the top of the escarpment, on
a narrow ledge a shaggy creature looked down upon her from beneath
beetling brows. It nudged another like it and pointed.

For a while the two watched the girl; then they started down the
escarpment. Like flies they clung to the dizzy cliff, and when the
ledge ended they swung to sturdy trees that clung to the rocky face of
the great wall.

Down, down they came, two great first-men, shaggy, powerful, menacing.
They dropped quickly, and always they sought to hide their approach
from the eyes of the girl.

The great falls, the noise, the boiling river left Rhonda Terry stunned
and helpless. There was no sign of her people, and if they were camped
on the opposite side of the river she felt that they might as well be
in another world, so impassable seemed the barrier that confronted her.

She felt very small and alone and tired. With a sigh she sat down on
a rounded boulder and leaned against another piled behind it. All her
remaining strength seemed to have gone from her. She closed her eyes
wearily, and two tears rolled down her cheeks. Perhaps she dozed, but
she was startled into wakefulness by a voice speaking near her. At
first she thought she was dreaming and did not open her eyes.

"She is alone," the voice said. "We will take her to God--he will be
pleased."

It was an English voice, or at least the accent was English; but the
tones were gruff and deep and guttural. The strange words convinced her
she was dreaming. She opened her eyes, and shrank back with a little
scream of terror. Standing close to her were two gorillas, or such she
thought them to be until one of them opened its mouth and spoke.

"Come with us," it said; "we are going to take you to God;" then it
reached out a mighty, hairy hand and seized her.




                                 XVIII

                             GORILLA KING


Rhonda Terry fought to escape the clutches of the great beast thing
that held her, but she was helpless in the grasp of those giant
muscles. The creature lifted her easily and tucked her under one arm.

"Be quiet," it said, "or I'll wring your neck."

"You had better not," cautioned his companion. "God will be angry if
you do not bring this one to him alive and unharmed. He has been hoping
for such a she as this for a long time."

"What does _he_ want of her? He is so old now that he can scarcely chew
his food."

"He will probably give her to Henry the Eighth."

"He already has seven wives. I think that I shall hide her and keep her
for myself."

"You will take her to God," said the other. "If you don't, I will."

"We'll see about that!" cried the creature that held the girl.

He dropped her and sprang, growling, upon his fellow. As they closed,
great fangs snapping, Rhonda leaped to her feet and sought to escape.

The whole thing seemed a hideous and grotesque nightmare, yet it was so
real that she could not know whether or not she were dreaming.

As she bolted, the two ceased their quarrelling and pursued her. They
easily overtook her, and once again she was a captive.

"You see what will happen," said the beast that had wished to take her
to God, "if we waste time quarrelling over her. I will not let you have
her unless God gives her to you."

The other grumbled and tucked the girl under his arm again. "Very
well," he said, "but Henry the Eighth won't get her. I'm sick of that
fellow. He thinks he is greater than God."

With the agility of monkeys the two climbed up the tall trees and
precarious ledges they had descended while Rhonda Terry closed her eyes
to shut out the terror of the dizzy heights and sought to convince
herself that she was dreaming.

But the reality was too poignant. Even the crass absurdity of the
situation failed to convince her. She knew that she was not dreaming
and that she was really in the power of two huge gorillas who spoke
English with a marked insular accent. It was preposterous, but she knew
that it was true.

To what fate were they bearing her? From their conversation she had an
inkling of what lay in store for her. But who was Henry the Eighth? And
who was God?

Up and up the beast bore her until at last they stood upon the summit
of the escarpment. Below them, to the south, the river plunged over the
edge of the escarpment to form Omwamwi Falls; to the north stretched a
valley hemmed in by mountains--the valley of diamonds, perhaps.

The surprise, amounting almost to revulsion, that she had experienced
when she first heard the two beasts speak a human language had had a
strange effect upon her in that while she understood that they were
speaking English it had not occurred to her that she could communicate
with them in the same language--the adventure seemed so improbable that
perhaps she still doubted her own senses.

The first shock of capture had been neutralized by the harrowing ascent
of the escarpment and the relief at gaining the top in safety. Now
she had an instant in which to think clearly, and with it came the
realization that she had the means of communicating with her captors.

"Who are you?" she demanded, "and why have you made me prisoner?"

"She speaks English!" exclaimed one of them.

"Of course I speak English. But tell me what you want of me. You have
no right to take me with you. I have not harmed you. I was only
waiting for my own people. Let me go!"

"This will please God," said one of her captors. "He has always said
that if he could get hold of an English woman he could do much for the
race."

"Who is this thing you call God?" she demanded.

"He is not a thing--he is a man," replied the one who had carried her
up the escarpment. "He is very old--he is the oldest creature in the
world and the wisest. He created us. But some day he will die, and then
we shall have no god."

"Henry the Eighth would like to be God," said the other.

"He never will while Wolsey lives--Wolsey would make a far better god
than he."

"Henry the Eighth will see that he doesn't live."

Rhonda Terry closed her eyes and pinched herself. She must be dreaming!
Henry the Eighth! Thomas Wolsey! How preposterous seemed these familiar
allusions to sixteenth century characters from the mouths of hairy
gorillas.

The two brutes had not paused at the summit of the escarpment, but had
immediately commenced the descent into the valley. Neither of them,
not even the one that had carried her up the steep ascent, showed the
slightest sign of fatigue even by accelerated breathing.

The girl was walking now, though one of the brutes held her by an arm
and jerked her roughly forward when her steps lagged.

"I cannot walk so fast," she said finally. "I have not eaten for a long
time, and I am weak."

Without a word the creature gathered her under one arm and continued on
down into the valley. Her position was uncomfortable, she was weak and
frightened. Several times she lost consciousness.

How long that journey lasted she did not know. When she was conscious
her mind was occupied by futile speculation as to the fate that
lay ahead of her. She tried to visualize the _God_ of these brutal
creatures. What mercy, what pity might she expect at the hands of
such a thing?--if, indeed, their god existed other than in their
imaginations.

After what seemed a very long time the girl heard voices in the
distance, growing louder as they proceeded; and soon after he who
carried her set her upon her feet.

As she looked about her she saw that she stood at the bottom of a cliff
before a city that was built partially at the foot of the cliff and
partially carved from its face.

The approach to the city was bordered by great fields of bamboo,
celery, fruits, and berries in which many gorillas were working with
crude, handmade implements.

As they caught sight of the captive these workers left their fields and
clustered about asking many questions and examining the girl with every
indication of intelligent interest, but her captors hurried her along
into the city.

Here again they were surrounded by curious crowds; but nowhere was any
violence offered the captive, the attitude of the gorillas appearing
far more friendly than that which she might have expected from human
natives of this untracked wilderness.

That portion of the city that was built upon the level ground at the
foot of the cliff consisted of circular huts of bamboo with thatched
conical roofs, of rectangular buildings of sun dried bricks, and others
of stone.

Near the foot of the cliff was a three-story building with towers and
ramparts, roughly suggestive of medieval England; and farther up the
cliff, upon a broad ledge, was another even larger structure of similar
architecture.

Rhonda's captors led her directly to the former building, before the
door of which squatted two enormous gorillas armed with crude weapons
that resembled battle axes; and here they were stopped while the two
guards examined Rhonda and questioned her captors.

Again and again the girl tried to convince herself that she was
dreaming. All her past experience, all her acquired knowledge
stipulated the utter absurdity of the fantastic experiences of the
past few hours. There could be no such things as gorillas that spoke
English, tilled fields, and lived in stone castles. And yet here were
all these impossibilities before her eyes as concrete evidence of their
existence.

She listened as one in a dream while her captors demanded entrance that
they might take their prisoner before the king; she heard the guard
demur, saying that the king could not be disturbed as he was engaged
with the Privy Council.

"Then we'll take her to God," threatened one of her captors, "and when
the king finds out what you have done you'll be working in the quarry
instead of sitting here in the shade."

Finally a young gorilla was summoned and sent into the palace with a
message. When he returned it was with the word that the king wished to
have the prisoner brought before him at once.

Rhonda was conducted into a large room the floor of which was covered
with dried grass. On a dais at one end of the room an enormous gorilla
paced to and fro while a half dozen other gorillas squatted in the
grass at the foot of the dais--enormous, shaggy beasts, all.

There were no chairs nor tables nor benches in the room, but from the
center of the dais rose the bare trunk and leafless branches of a tree.

As the girl was brought into the room the gorilla on the dais stopped
his restless pacing and scrutinized her. "Where did you find her,
Buckingham?" he demanded.

"At the foot of the falls, Sire," replied the beast that had captured
her.

"What was she doing there?"

"She said that she was looking for her friends, who were to meet her at
the falls."

"She _said_! You mean that she speaks English?" demanded the king.

"Yes, I speak English," said Rhonda; "and if I am not dreaming, and you
are king, I demand that you send me back to the falls, so that I may
find my people."

"Dreaming? What put that into your head? You are not asleep, are you?"

"I do not know," replied Rhonda. "Sometimes I am sure that I must be."

"Well, you are not," snapped the king. "And who put it into your
head that there might be any doubt that I am king? That sounds like
Buckingham."

"Your majesty wrongs me," said Buckingham stiffly. "It was I who
insisted on bringing her to the king."

"It is well you did; the wench pleases us. We will keep her."

"But, your majesty," exclaimed the other of Rhonda's two captors, "it
is our duty to take her to God. We brought her here first that your
majesty might see her; but we must take her on to God, who has been
hoping for such a woman for years."

"What, Cranmer! Are you turning against me too?"

"Cranmer is right," said one of the great bulls squatting on the floor.
"This woman should be taken to God. Do not forget, Sire, that you
already have seven wives."

"That is just like you, Wolsey," snapped the king peevishly. "You are
always taking the part of God."

"We must all remember," said Wolsey, "that we owe everything to God. It
was he who created us. He made us what we are. It is he who can destroy
us."

The king was pacing up and down the straw covered dais rapidly. His
eyes were blazing, his lips drawn back in a snarl. Suddenly he stopped
by the tree and shook it angrily as though he would tear it from the
masonry in which it was set. Then he climbed quickly up into a fork
and glared down at them. For a moment he perched there, but only for a
moment. With the agility of a small monkey he leaped to the floor of
the dais. With his great fists he beat upon his hairy breast, and from
his cavernous lungs rose a terrific roar that shook the building.

"I am king!" he screamed. "My word is law. Take the wench to the
women's quarters!"

The beast the king had addressed as Wolsey now leaped to his feet and
commenced to beat his breast and scream. "This is sacrilege," he cried.
"He who defies God shall die. That is the law. Repent, and send the
girl to God!"

"Never!" shrieked the king. "She is mine."

Both brutes were now beating their breasts and roaring so loudly that
their words could scarcely be distinguished; and the other bulls were
moving restlessly, their hair bristling, their fangs bared.

Then Wolsey played his ace. "Send the girl to God," he bellowed, "or
suffer excommunication!"

But the king had now worked himself to such a frenzy that he was beyond
reason. "The guard! The guard!" he screamed. "Suffolk, call the guard,
and take Cardinal Wolsey to the tower! Buckingham, take the girl to the
women's quarters or off goes your head."

The two bulls were still beating their breasts and screaming at one
another as Rhonda Terry was dragged from the apartment by the shaggy
Buckingham.

Up a circular stone stairway the brute dragged her and along a corridor
to a room at the rear of the second floor. It was a large room in the
corner of the building, and about its grass strewn floor squatted or
lay a number of adult gorillas, while young ones of all ages played
about or suckled at their mothers' breasts.

Many of the beasts were slowly eating celery stalks, tender bamboo
tips, or fruit; but all activity ceased as Buckingham dragged the
American girl into their midst.

"What have you there, Buckingham?" growled an old she.

"A girl we captured at the falls," replied Buckingham. "The king
commanded that she be brought here, your majesty." Then he turned to
his captive. "This is Queen Catherine," he said, "Catherine of Aragon."

"What does he want of her?" demanded Catherine peevishly.

Buckingham shrugged his broad shoulders and glanced about the room at
the six adult females. "Your majesties should well be able to guess."

"Is he thinking of taking that puny, hairless thing for a wife?"
demanded another, sitting at a little distance from Catherine of Aragon.

"Of course that's what he's thinking of, Anne Boleyn," snapped
Catherine; "or he wouldn't have sent her here."

"Hasn't he got enough wives already?" demanded another.

"That is for the king to decide," said Buckingham as he quitted the
room.

Now the great shes commenced to gather closer to the girl. They sniffed
at her and felt of her clothing. The younger ones crowded in, pulling
at her skirt. One, larger than the rest, grabbed her by the ankles and
pulled her feet from under her; and, as she fell, it danced about the
room, grimacing and screaming.

As she tried to rise it rushed toward her; and she struck it in the
face, thinking it meant to injure her. Whereupon it ran screaming to
Catherine of Aragon, and one of the other shes seized Rhonda by the
shoulder and pushed her so violently that she was hurled against the
wall.

"How dare you lay hands on the Prince of Wales!" cried the beast that
had pushed her.

The Prince of Wales, Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn! If not asleep,
Rhonda Terry was by this time positive that she had gone mad. What
possible explanation could there be for such a mad burlesque in which
gorillas acted the parts and spoke with the tongues of men?--what other
than the fantasy of sleep or insanity? None.

She sat huddled against the wall where she had fallen and buried her
face in her arms.




                                  XIX

                                DESPAIR


The frightened pony carried Naomi Madison in the wake of its fellows.
She could only cling frantically to the saddle, constantly fearful of
being brushed to the ground.

Presently, where the trail widened into a natural clearing, the horses
in front of her stopped suddenly; and the one she rode ran in among
them before it stopped too.

Then she saw the reason--Sheykh Ab el-Ghrennem and his followers. She
tried to rein her horse around and escape; but he was wedged in among
the other horses, and a moment later the little herd was surrounded.
Once more she was a prisoner.

The sheykh was so glad to get his horses back that he almost forgot to
be angry over the trick that had robbed him of them temporarily. He was
glad, too, to have one of his prisoners. She could read the map to them
and be useful in other ways if he decided not to sell her.

"Where is the other one?" demanded Atewy.

"She was killed by a lion," replied Naomi.

Atewy shrugged. "Well, we still have you; and we have the map. We shall
not fare so ill."

Naomi recalled the cone-shaped volcanic hill and the mountains in the
distance. "If I lead you to the valley of diamonds will you return me
to my people?" she asked.

Atewy translated to el-Ghrennem. The old sheykh nodded. "Tell her we
will do that if she leads us to the valley of diamonds," he said.
"_Wellah!_ yes, tell her that; but after we find the valley of diamonds
we may forget what we have promised. But do not tell her _that_."

Atewy grinned. "Lead us to the valley of diamonds," he said to Naomi,
"and all that you wish will be done."

Unaccustomed to the strenuous labor of pushing through the jungle
on foot that the pursuit of the white girls and their ponies had
necessitated, the Arabs made camp as soon as they reached the river.

The following day they crossed to the open plain; and when Naomi called
their attention to the volcanic hill and the location of the mountains
to the northwest, and they had compared these landmarks with the map,
they were greatly elated.

But when they reached the river below the falls the broad and turbulent
stream seemed impassable and the cliffs before them unscalable.

They camped that night on the east side of the river; and late into
the night discussed plans for crossing to the west side, for the map
clearly indicated but a single entrance to the valley of diamonds, and
that was several miles northwest of them.

In the morning they started downstream in search of a crossing, but
it was two days before they found a place where they dared make the
attempt. Even here they had the utmost difficulty in negotiating the
river, and consumed most of the day in vain attempts before they
finally succeeded in winning to the opposite shore with the loss of two
men and their mounts.

The Madison had been almost paralyzed by terror, not alone by the
natural hazards of the swift current but by the constant menace of the
crocodiles with which the stream seemed alive. Wet to the skin, she
huddled close to the fire; and finally, hungry and miserable, dropped
into a sleep of exhaustion.

What provisions the Arabs had had with them had been lost or ruined in
the crossing, and so much time had been consumed in reaching the west
bank that they had been unable to hunt for game before dark. But they
were accustomed to a life of privation and hardship, and their spirits
were buoyed by the certainty that all felt that within a few days they
would be scooping up diamonds by the handfuls from the floor of the
fabulous valley that now lay but a short distance to the north.

Coming down the east bank of the river they had consumed much time in
unsuccessful attempts to cross the stream, and they had been further
retarded by the absence of a good trail. But on the west side of the
river they found a wide and well beaten track along which they moved
rapidly.

Toward the middle of the afternoon of the first day after crossing the
river Naomi called to Atewy who rode near her.

"Look!" she said, pointing ahead. "There is the red granite column
shown on the map. Directly east of it is the entrance to the valley."

Atewy, much excited, transmitted the information to el-Ghrennem
and the others; and broad grins wreathed their usually saturnine
countenances.

"And now," said Naomi, "that I have led you to the valley, keep your
promise to me and send me back to my people."

"Wait a bit," replied Atewy. "We are not in the valley yet. We must be
sure that this is indeed the valley of diamonds. You must come with us
yet a little farther."

"But that was not the agreement," insisted the girl. "I was to lead you
to the valley, and that I have done. I am going back to look for my
people now whether you send any one with me or not."

She wheeled her pony to turn back along the trail they had come. She
did not know where her people were; but she had heard the Arabs say
that the falls they had passed were the Omwamwi Falls, and she knew
that the safari had been marching for this destination when she had
been stolen more than a week before. They must be close to them by this
time.

But she was not destined to carry her scheme into execution, for as she
wheeled her mount Atewy spurred to her side, grasped her bridle rein,
and, with an oath, struck her across the face.

"The next time you try that you'll get something worse," he threatened.

Suffering from the blow, helpless, hopeless, the girl broke into tears.
She thought that she had plumbed the uttermost depths of terror and
despair, but she did not know what the near future held in store for
her.

That night the Arabs camped just east of the red granite monolith that
they believed marked the entrance to the valley of diamonds, at the
mouth of a narrow canyon.

Early the following morning they started up the canyon on the march
that they believed would lead them to a country of fabulous wealth.
From far above them savage eyes looked down from scowling black faces,
watching their progress.




                                  XX

                            "COME WITH ME!"


In the light of a new day Tarzan of the Apes stood looking down upon
the man who resembled him so closely that the ape-man experienced the
uncanny sensation of standing apart, like a disembodied spirit, viewing
his corporeal self.

It was the morning that they were to have set off in search of Orman
and West, but Tarzan saw that it would be some time before Obroski
would travel again on his own legs.

With all the suddenness with which it sometimes strikes, fever had
seized the American. His delirious ravings had awakened Tarzan, but now
he lay in a coma.

The lord of the jungle considered the matter briefly. He neither wished
to leave the man alone to the scant mercy of the jungle, nor did he
wish to remain with him. His conversations with Obroski had convinced
him that no matter what his inclinations might be the dictates of
simplest humanity required that he do what he might to succor the
innocent members of Orman's party. The plight of the two girls appealed
especially to his sense of chivalry, and it was with his usual celerity
that he reached a decision.

Lifting the unconscious Obroski in his arms he threw him across one of
his broad shoulders and swung off through the jungle toward the south.

All day he travelled, stopping briefly once for water, eating no food.
Sometimes the American lay unconscious, sometimes he struggled and
raved in delirium; or, again, consciousness returning, he begged the
ape-man to stop and let him rest. But Tarzan ignored his pleas, and
moved on toward the south.

Toward evening the two came to a native village beyond the Bansuto
country. It was the village of the chief, Mpugu, whom Tarzan knew to
be friendly to whites as well as under obligations to the lord of the
jungle who had once saved his life.

Obroski was unconscious when they arrived in the village, and Tarzan
placed him in a hut which Mpugu placed at his disposal.

"When he is well, take him to Jinja," Tarzan instructed Mpugu, "and ask
the commissioner to send him on to the coast."

The ape-man remained in the village only long enough to fill his empty
belly; then he swung off again through the gathering dusk toward the
north, while far away, in the city of the gorilla king, Rhonda Terry
crouched in the dry grass that littered the floor of the quarters of
the king's wives and dreamed of the horrid fate that awaited her.

A week had passed since she had been thrust into this room with its
fierce denizens. She had learned much concerning them since then, but
not the secret of their origin. Most of them were far from friendly,
though none offered her any serious harm. Only one of them paid much
attention to her, and from this one and the conversations she had
overheard she had gained what meager information she had concerning
them.

The six adult females were the wives of the king, Henry the Eighth; and
they bore the historic names of the wives of that much married English
king. There were Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne
of Cleves, Catherine Howard, and Catherine Parr.

It was Catherine Parr, the youngest, who had been the least unfriendly;
and that, perhaps, because she had suffered at the hands of the others
and hated them.

Rhonda told her that there had been a king in a far country four
hundred years before who had been called Henry the Eighth and who
had had six wives of the same names as theirs and that such an exact
parallel seemed beyond the realms of possibility--that in this far off
valley their king should have found six women that he wished to marry
who bore those identical names.

"Those were not our names before we became the wives of the king,"
explained Catherine Parr. "When we were married to the king we were
given these names."

"By the king?"

"No--by God."

"What is your god like?" asked Rhonda.

"He is very old. No one knows how old he is. He has been here in
England always. He is the god of England. He knows everything and is
very powerful."

"Have you ever seen him?"

"No. He has not come out of his castle for many years. Now, he and the
king are quarrelling. That is why the king has not been here since you
came. God has threatened to kill him if he takes another wife."

"Why?" asked Rhonda.

"God says Henry the Eighth may have only six wives--there are no names
for more."

"There doesn't seem much sense in that," commented the girl.

"We may not question God's reasons. He created us, and he is all-wise.
We must have faith; otherwise he will destroy us."

"Where does your god live?"

"In the great castle on the ledge above the city. It is called The
Golden Gates. Through it we enter into heaven after we die--if we have
believed in God and served him well."

"What is the castle like inside?" asked Rhonda, "this castle of God?"

"I have never been in it. Only the king and a few of his nobles, the
cardinal, the archbishop, and the priests have ever entered The Golden
Gates and come out again. The spirits of the dead enter, but, of
course, they never come back. And occasionally God sends for a young
man or a young woman. What happens to them no one knows, but they never
come back either. It is said--" she hesitated.

"What is said?" Rhonda found herself becoming intrigued by the mystery
surrounding this strange god that guarded the entrance to heaven.

"Oh, terrible things are said; but I dare not even whisper them. I
must not think them. God can read our thoughts. Do not ask me any more
questions. You have been sent by the devil to lure me to destruction,"
and that was the last that Rhonda could get out of Catherine Parr.

Early the next day the American girl was awakened by horrid growls and
roars that seemed to come not only from outside the palace but from the
interior as well.

The she gorillas penned in the quarters with her were restless. They
growled as they crowded to the windows and looked down into the
courtyard and the streets beyond.

Rhonda came and stood behind them and looked over their shoulders. She
saw shaggy beasts struggling and fighting at the gate leading through
the outer wall, surging through the courtyard below, and battling
before the entrance to the palace. They fought with clubs and battle
axes, talons and fangs.

"They have freed Wolsey from the tower," she heard Jane Seymour say,
"and he is leading God's party against the king."

Catherine of Aragon squatted in the dry grass and commenced to peel a
banana. "Henry and God are always quarrelling," she said wearily--"and
nothing ever comes of it. Every time Henry wants a new wife they
quarrel."

"But I notice he always gets his wife," said Catherine Howard.

"He has had Wolsey on his side before--this time it may be different.
I have heard that God wants this hairless she for himself. If he gets
her that will be the last that any one will ever see of her--which will
suit me." Catherine of Aragon bared her fangs at the American girl, and
then returned her attention to the banana.

The sound of fighting surged upward from the floor below until they
heard it plainly in the corridor outside the closed door of their
quarters. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and several bulls burst
into the room.

"Where is the hairless one?" demanded the leading bull. "Ah, there she
is!"

He crossed the room and seized Rhonda roughly by the wrist.

"Come with me!" he ordered. "God has sent for you."




                                  XXI

                               ABDUCTED


The Arabs made their way up the narrow canyon toward the summit of the
pass that led into the valley of diamonds. From above, fierce, cruel
eyes looked down. Ab el-Ghrennem gloated exultantly. He had visions of
the rich treasure that was soon to give him wealth beyond his previous
wildest dreams of avarice. Atewy rode close to Naomi Madison to prevent
her from escaping.

At last they came to a precipitous wall that no horse could scale. The
perpendicular sides of the rocky canyon had drawn close together.

"The horses can go no farther," announced Ab el-Ghrennem. "Eyad, thou
shalt remain with them. The rest of us will continue on foot."

"And the girl?" asked Atewy.

"Bring her with us, lest she escape Eyad while he is guarding the
horses," replied the sheykh. "I would not lose her."

They scrambled up the rocky escarpment, dragging Naomi Madison with
them, to find more level ground above. The rocky barrier had not been
high, but sufficient to bar the progress of a horse.

Sitting in his saddle, Eyad could see above it and watch his fellows
continuing on up the canyon, which was now broader with more sloping
walls upon which timber grew as it did upon the summit.

They had proceeded but a short distance when Eyad saw a black, shaggy,
man-like figure emerge from a bamboo thicket above and behind the
sheykh's party. Then another and another followed the first. They
carried clubs or axes with long handles.

Eyad shouted a warning to his comrades. It brought them to a sudden
halt, but it also brought a swarm of the hairy creatures pouring down
the canyon sides upon them.

Roaring and snarling, the beasts closed in upon the men. The matchlocks
of the Arabs roared, filling the canyon with thundering reverberations,
adding to the bedlam.

A few of the gorillas were hit. Some fell; but the others, goaded to
frightful rage by their wounds, charged to close quarters. They tore
the weapons from the hands of the Arabs and cast them aside. Seizing
the men in their powerful hands, they sank great fangs into the throats
of their adversaries. Others wielded club or battle axe.

Screaming and cursing, the Arabs sought now only to escape. Eyad was
filled with terror as he saw the bloody havoc being wrought upon his
fellows. He saw a great bull gather the girl into his arms and start
up the slope of the canyon wall toward the wooded summit. He saw two
mighty bulls descending the canyon toward him. Then Eyad wheeled and
put spurs to his horse. Clattering down the canyon, he heard the sounds
of conflict growing dimmer and dimmer until at last he could hear them
no longer.

And as Eyad disappeared in the lower reaches of the canyon, Buckingham
carried Naomi Madison into the forest above the strange city of the
gorilla king.

Buckingham was mystified. He thought that this hairless she was the
same creature he had captured many days before below the great falls
that he knew as Victoria Falls. Yet only this very morning he had seen
her taken by Wolsey to the castle of God.

He paused beyond the summit at a point where the city of the gorillas
could be seen below them. He was in a quandary. He very much wanted
this she for himself, but then both God and the king wanted her. He
stood scratching his head as he sought to evolve a plan whereby he
might possess her without incurring the wrath of two such powerful
personages.

Naomi, hanging in the crook of his arm, was frozen with horror. The
Arabs had seemed bad enough, but this horrid brute! She wondered when
he would kill her and how.

Presently he stood her on her feet and looked at her. "How did you
escape from God?" he demanded.

Naomi Madison gasped in astonishment, and her eyes went wide. A great
fear crept over her, a fear greater than the physical terror that the
brute itself aroused--she feared that she was losing her reason. She
stood with wild, staring eyes gazing at the beast. Then, suddenly, she
burst into wild laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" growled Buckingham.

"At you," she cried. "You think you can fool me, but you can't. I
know that I am just dreaming. In a moment I'll be awake, and I'll see
the sun coming in my bedroom window. I'll see the orange tree and the
loquat in my patio. I'll see Hollywood stretching below me with its red
roofs and its green trees."

"I don't know what you are talking about," said Buckingham. "You are
not asleep. You are awake. Look down there, and you will see London and
the Thames."

Naomi looked where he indicated. She saw a strange city on the banks
of a small river. She pinched herself; and it hurt, but she did not
awake. Slowly she realized that she was not dreaming, that the terrible
unrealities she had passed through were real.

"Who are you? What are you?" she asked.

"Answer my question," commanded Buckingham. "How did you escape from
God?"

"I don't know what you mean. The Arabs captured me. I escaped from them
once, but they got me again."

"Was that before I captured you several days ago?"

"I never saw you before."

Buckingham scratched his head again. "Are there two of you?" he
demanded. "I certainly caught you or another just like you at the falls
over a week ago."

Suddenly Naomi thought that she comprehended. "You caught a girl like
me?" she demanded.

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"If you are not she, she is with God in his castle--down there." He
leaned out over the edge of the cliff and pointed to a stone castle on
a ledge far below. He turned toward her as a new idea took form in his
mind. "If you are not she," he said, "then God has the other one--and I
can have you!"

"No! No!" cried the girl. "Let me go! Let me go back to my people."

Buckingham seized her and tucked her under one of his huge arms.
"Neither God nor Henry the Eighth shall ever see you," he growled.
"I'll take you away where they can't find you--they shan't rob me of
you as they robbed me of the other. I'll take you to a place I know
where there is food and water. I'll build a shelter among the trees.
We'll be safe there from both God and the king."

Naomi struggled and struck at him; but he paid no attention to her, as
he swung off to the south toward the lower end of the valley.




                                 XXII

                             THE IMPOSTER


The Lord of the Jungle awoke and stretched. A new day was dawning. He
had travelled far from Mpugu's village the previous night before he lay
up to rest. Now, refreshed, he swung on toward the north. He would make
a kill and eat on the way, or he would go hungry--it depended upon the
fortunes of the trail. Tarzan could go for long periods without food
with little inconvenience. He was no such creature of habit as are the
poor slaves of civilization.

He had gone but a short distance when he caught the scent spoor of
men--tarmangani--white men. And before he saw them he had recognized
them by their scent.

He paused in a tree above them and looked down upon them. There were
three of them--two whites and an Arab. They had made a poor camp the
night before. Tarzan saw no sign of food. The men looked haggard,
almost exhausted. Not far from them was a buck, but the starving men
did not know it. Tarzan knew it because Usha, the wind, was carrying
the scent of the buck to his keen nostrils.

Seeing their dire need and fearing that they might frighten the animal
away before he could kill it, Tarzan passed around them unseen and
swung silently on through the trees.

Wappi, the antelope, browsed on the tender grasses of a little
clearing. He would take a few mouthfuls; then raise his head, looking
and listening--always alert. But he was not sufficiently alert to
detect the presence of the noiseless stalker creeping upon him.

Suddenly the antelope started! He had heard, but it was too late. A
beast of prey had launched itself upon him from the branches of a tree.

A quarter of a mile away Orman had risen to his feet. "We might as well
get going, Bill," he said.

"Can't we make this bird understand that we want him to guide us to the
point where he last saw one of the girls?"

"I've tried. You've heard me threaten to kill him if he doesn't, but he
either can't or won't understand."

"If we don't get something to eat pretty soon we won't ever find
anybody. If--" The incomplete sentence died in a short gasp.

An uncanny cry had come rolling out of the mysterious jungle fastness,
freezing the blood in the veins of all three men.

"The ghost!" said Orman in a whisper.

An involuntary shudder ran through West's frame. "You know that's all
hooey, Tom," he said.

"Yes, I know it," admitted Orman; "but--"

"That probably wasn't--Obroski at all. It must have been some animal,"
insisted West.

"Look!" exclaimed Orman, pointing beyond West.

As the cameraman wheeled he saw an almost naked white man walking
toward them, the carcass of a buck across one broad shoulder.

"Obroski!" exclaimed West.

Tarzan saw the two men gazing at him in astonishment, he heard West's
ejaculation, and he recalled the striking resemblance that he and
Obroski bore to one another. If the shadow of a smile was momentarily
reflected by his grey eyes it was gone when he stopped before the two
men and tossed the carcass of the buck at their feet.

"I thought you might be hungry," he said. "You look hungry."

"Obroski!" muttered Orman. "Is it really you?" He stepped closer to
Tarzan and touched his shoulder.

"What did you think I was--a ghost?" asked the ape-man.

Orman laughed--an apologetic, embarrassed laugh. "I--well--we thought
you were dead. It was so surprising to see you--and then the way that
you killed the lion the other day--you did kill the lion, didn't you?"

"He seemed to be dead," replied the ape-man.

"Yes, of course; but then it didn't seem exactly like you, Obroski--we
didn't know that you could do anything like that."

"There are probably a number of things about me that you don't know.
But never mind about that. I've come to find out what you know about
the girls. Are they safe? And how about the rest of the safari?"

"The girls were stolen by the Arabs almost two weeks ago. Bill and I
have been looking for them. I don't know where the rest of the outfit
are. I told Pat to try to get everything to Omwamwi Falls and wait
for her there if I didn't show up before. We captured this Arab. It's
Eyad--you probably remember him. Of course we can't understand his
lingo; but from what we can make out one of the girls has been killed
by a wild beast, and something terrible has happened to the other girl
and the rest of the Arabs."

Tarzan turned to Eyad; and, much to the Arab's surprise, questioned him
in his own tongue while Orman and West looked on in astonishment. The
two spoke rapidly for a few minutes; then Tarzan handed Eyad an arrow,
and the man, squatting on his haunches, smoothed a little area of
ground with the palm of his hand and commenced to draw something with
the point of the arrow.

"What's he doing?" asked West. "What did he say?"

"He's drawing a map to show me where this fight took place between the
Arabs and the gorillas."

"Gorillas! What did he say about the girls?"

"One of them was killed by a lion a week or more ago, and the last he
saw of the other she was being carried off by a big bull gorilla."

"Which one is dead?" asked West. "Did he say?"

Tarzan questioned Eyad, and then turned to the American. "He does not
know. He says that he could never tell the two girls apart."

Eyad had finished his map and was pointing out the different landmarks
to the ape-man. Orman and West were also scrutinizing the crude tracing.

The director gave a short laugh. "This bird's stringin' you, Obroski,"
he said. "That's a copy of a fake map we had for use in the picture."

Tarzan questioned Eyad rapidly in Arabic; then he turned again to
Orman. "I think he is telling the truth," he said. "Anyway, I'll soon
know. I am going up to this valley and look around. You and West follow
on up to the falls. Eyad can guide you. This buck will last you until
you get there." Then he turned and swung into the trees.

The three men stood staring at the spot for a moment. Finally Orman
shook his head. "I never was so fooled in any one before in my life,"
he said. "I had Obroski all wrong--we all did. By golly, I never saw
such a change in a man before in my whole life."

"Even his voice has changed," said West.

"He certainly was a secretive son-of-a-gun," said Orman. "I never had
the slightest idea that he could speak Arabic."

"I think he mentioned that there were several things about him that you
did not know."

"If I wasn't so familiar with that noble mug of his and that godlike
physique I'd swear that this guy isn't Obroski at all."

"Not a chance," said West. "I'd know him in a million."




                                 XXIII

                             MAN AND BEAST


The great bull gorilla carried Naomi Madison south along the wooded
crest of the mountains toward the southern end of the valley. When they
came to open spaces he scurried quickly across them, and he looked
behind him often as though fearing pursuit.

The girl's first terror had subsided, to be replaced by a strange
apathy that she could not understand. It was as though her nervous
system was under the effects of an anesthetic that deadened her
susceptibility to fear but left all her other faculties unimpaired.
Perhaps she had undergone so much that she no longer cared what befell
her.

That she could converse in English with this brutal beast lent an
unreality to the adventure that probably played a part in inducing the
mental state in which she found herself. After this, anything might be,
anything might happen.

The uncomfortable position in which she was being carried and her
hunger presently became matters of the most outstanding importance,
relegating danger to the background.

"Let me walk," she said.

Buckingham grunted and lowered her to her feet. "Do not try to run away
from me," he warned.

They continued on through the woods towards the south, the beast
sometimes stopping to look back and listen. He was moving into the
wind; so his nose was useless in apprehending danger from the rear.

During one of these stops Naomi saw fruit growing upon a tree. "I am
hungry," she said. "Is this fruit good to eat?"

"Yes," he replied and permitted her to gather some; then he pushed on
again.

They had come almost to the end of the valley and were crossing a space
almost devoid of trees at a point where the mountains fell in a series
of precipitous cliffs down to the floor of the valley when the gorilla
paused as usual under such circumstances to glance back.

The girl, thinking he feared pursuit by the Arabs, always looked
hopefully back at such times. Even the leering countenance of Atewy
would have been a welcome sight under the circumstances. Heretofore
they had seen no sign of pursuit, but this time a figure emerged from
the patch of wood they had just quitted--it was the lumbering figure of
a bull gorilla.

With a snarl, Buckingham lifted the girl from her feet and broke into a
lumbering run. A short distance within the forest beyond the clearing
he turned abruptly toward the cliff; and when he reached the edge he
swung the girl to his back, telling her to put her arms about his neck
and hang on.

Naomi Madison glanced once into the abyss below; then shut her eyes and
prayed for strength to hang onto the hairy creature making its way down
the sheer face of the rocky escarpment.

What he found to cling to she did not know, for she did not open her
eyes until he loosed her hands by main strength and let her drop to her
feet behind him.

"I'll come back for you when I have thrown Suffolk off the trail," said
the beast and was gone.

The Madison found herself in a small natural cave in the face of the
cliff. A tiny stream of water trickled from a hidden spring, formed a
little pool at the front of the cave, and ran over the edge down the
face of the cliff. A part of the floor of the cave was dry; but there
was no covering upon it, only the bare rock.

The girl approached the ledge and looked down. The great height of the
seemingly bare cliff face made her shrink back, giddy. Then she tried
it again and looked up. There seemed scarcely a hand- or foothold in
any direction. She marvelled that the heavy gorilla had been able to
make his way to the cave safely, burdened by her weight.

As she examined her situation, Buckingham clambered quickly to the
summit of the cliff and continued on toward the south. He moved slowly,
and it was not long before the pursuing beast overtook him.

The creature upon his trail hailed him. "Where is the hairless she?" he
demanded.

"I do not know," replied the other. "She has run away from me. I am
looking for her."

"Why did you run away from me, Buckingham?"

"I did not know it was you, Suffolk. I thought you were one of Wolsey's
men trying to rob me of the she so that I could not take her to the
king."

Suffolk grunted. "We had better find her. The king is not in a good
humor. How do you suppose she escaped from God?"

"She did not escape from God--this is a different she, though they look
much alike." The two passed on through the forest, searching for the
Madison.

For two nights and two days the girl lay alone in the rocky cave. She
could neither ascend nor descend the vertical cliff. If the beast did
not return for her, she must starve. This she knew, yet she hoped that
it would not return.

The third night fell. Naomi was suffering from hunger. Fortunately
the little trickle of water through the cave saved her from suffering
from thirst also. She heard the savage sounds of the night life of
the wilderness, but she was not afraid. The cave had at least that
advantage. If she had food she could live there in safety indefinitely,
but she had no food.

The first pangs of hunger had passed. She did not suffer. She only
knew that she was growing weaker. It seemed strange to her that she,
Naomi Madison, should be dying of hunger--and alone! Why, in all the
world the only creature that could save her from starvation, the only
creature that knew where she was was a great, savage gorilla--she who
numbered her admirers by the millions, whose whereabouts, whose every
act was chronicled in a hundred newspapers and magazines. She felt very
small and insignificant now. Here was no room for arrogant egotism.

During the long hours she had had more opportunity for self-scrutiny
than ever before, and what she discovered was not very flattering.
She realized that she had already changed much during the past two
weeks--she had learned much from the attitude of the other members of
the safari toward her but most from the example that Rhonda Terry had
set her. If she were to have the chance, she knew that she would be a
very different woman; but she did not expect the chance. She did not
want life at the price she would have to pay. She prayed that she might
die before the gorilla returned to claim his prize.

She slept fitfully through the third night--the rocky floor that was
her bed was torture to her soft flesh. The morning sun, shining full
into the mouth of her cave, gave her renewed hope even though her
judgment told her that there was no hope.

She drank, and bathed her hands and face; then she sat and looked out
over the valley of diamonds. She should have hated it, for it had
aroused the avarice that had brought her to this sorry pass; but she
did not--it was too beautiful.

Presently her attention was attracted by a scraping sound outside the
cave and above it. She listened intently. What could it be?

A moment later a black, hairy leg appeared below the top of the mouth
of the cave; and then the gorilla dropped to the narrow ledge before
it. The thing had returned! The girl crouched against the back wall,
shuddering.

The brute stooped and peered into the gloomy cavern. "Come here!"
it commanded. "I see you. Hurry--we have no time to waste. They may
have followed me. Suffolk has had me watched for two days. He did not
believe that you had run away. He guessed that I had hidden you. Come!
Hurry!"

"Go away and leave me," she begged. "I would rather stay here and die."

He made no answer at once, but stooped and came toward her. Seizing her
roughly by the arm he dragged her to the mouth of the cave. "So I'm not
good enough for you?" he growled. "Don't you know that I am the Duke of
Buckingham? Get on my back, and hold tight."

He swung her up into position, and she clung about his neck. She wanted
to hurl herself over the edge of the cliff, but she could not raise her
courage to the point. Against her will she clung to the shaggy brute as
he climbed the sheer face of the cliff toward the summit. She did not
dare even to look down.

At the top he lowered her to her feet and started on southward toward
the lower end of the valley, dragging her after him.

She was weak; and she staggered, stumbling often. Then he would jerk
her roughly to her feet and growl at her, using strange, medieval oaths.

"I can't go on," she said. "I am weak. I have had nothing to eat for
two days."

"You are just trying to delay me so that Suffolk can overtake us. You
would rather belong to the king, but you won't. You'll never see the
king. He is just waiting for an excuse to have my head, but he won't
ever get it. We're never going back to London, you and I. We'll go out
of the valley and find a place below the falls."

Again she stumbled and fell. The beast became enraged. He kicked her
as she lay on the ground; then he seized her by the hair and dragged
her after him.

But he did not go far thus. He had taken but a few steps when he came
to a sudden halt. With a savage growl and upturned lips baring powerful
yellow fangs he faced a figure that had dropped from a tree directly in
his path.

The girl saw too, and her eyes went wide. "Stanley!" she cried. "Oh,
Stanley, save me, save me!"

It was the startled cry of a forlorn hope, but in the instant of
voicing it she knew that she could expect no help from Stanley Obroski,
the coward. Her heart sank, and the horror of her position seemed
suddenly more acute because of this brief instant of false reprieve.

The gorilla released his hold upon her hair and dropped her to the
ground, where she lay too weak to rise, watching the great beast at her
side and the bronzed white giant facing it.

"Go away, Bolgani!" commanded Tarzan in the language of the great apes.
"The she is mine. Go away, or I kill!"

Buckingham did not understand the tongue of this stranger, but he
understood the menace of his attitude. "Go away!" he cried in English.
"Go away, or I will kill you!" Thus a beast spoke in English to an
Englishman who spoke the language of beasts!

Tarzan of the Apes is not easily astonished; but when he heard Bolgani,
the gorilla, speak to him in English he at first questioned his hearing
and then his sanity. But whatever the condition of either it could not
conceal the evident intent of the bull gorilla advancing menacingly
toward him as it beat its breast and screamed its threats.

Naomi Madison watched with horror-wide, fascinated eyes. She saw the
man she thought to be Stanley Obroski crouch slightly as though waiting
to receive the charge. She wondered why he did not turn and run--that
was what all who knew him, including herself, would have expected of
Stanley Obroski.

Suddenly the gorilla charged, and still the man held his ground.
Great hairy paws reached out to seize him; but he eluded them with
quick, pantherlike movements. Stooping, he sprang beneath a swinging
arm; and before the beast could turn leaped upon its back. A bronzed
arm encircled the squat neck of the hairy Buckingham. In a frenzy of
rage the beast swung around, clawing futilely to rid himself of his
antagonist.

He felt the steel thews of the ape-man's arm tightening, and realized
that he was coping with muscles far beyond what he had expected. He
threw himself to the ground in an effort to crush his foe with his
great weight, but Tarzan broke the fall with his feet and slipped
partially from beneath the hairy body.

Then Buckingham felt powerful jaws close upon his neck near the
jugular, he heard savage growls mingling with his own. Naomi Madison
heard too, and a new horror filled her soul. Now she knew why Stanley
Obroski had not fled in terror--he had gone mad! Fear and suffering had
transformed him into a maniac.

She shuddered at the thought, she shrank within herself as she saw his
strong white teeth sink into the black hide of the gorilla and heard
the bestial growls rumbling from that handsome mouth.

The two beasts rolled over and over upon the ground, the roars of the
gorilla mingling with the growls of the man; and the girl, leaning upon
her hands, watched through fascinated, horror stricken eyes.

She knew that there could be but one outcome--even though the man
appeared to have a slight initial advantage, the giant strength of
the mighty bull must prevail in the end. Then she saw a knife flash,
reflecting the rays of the morning sun. She saw it driven into the
great bull's side. She heard his agonized shriek of pain and rage. She
saw him redouble his efforts to dislodge the creature clinging to his
back.

Again and again the knife was driven home. Suddenly the maddened
struggles of the bull grew weaker; then they ceased, and with a
convulsive shudder the great form relaxed and lay inert.

The man leaped erect; he paid no attention to the girl; upon his face
was the savage snarl of a wild beast. Naomi was terrified; she tried
to crawl away and hide from him, but she was too weak. He placed a
foot upon the carcass of the dead bull and threw back his head; then
from his parted lips burst a cry that made her flesh creep. It was
the victory cry of the bull ape, and as its echoes died away in the
distance the man turned toward her.

All the savagery had vanished from his face; his gaze was intent and
earnest. She looked for a maniacal light in his eyes, but they seemed
sane and normal.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

"No," she said and tried to rise, but she had not the strength.

He came and lifted her to her feet. He was so strong! A sense of
security swept over her and unnerved her. She threw her arms about his
neck and commenced to sob.

"Oh, Stanley! Stanley!" she gasped. She tried to say more, but her sobs
choked her.

Obroski had told Tarzan a great deal about the members of the company.
He knew the names of all of them, and had identified most of them from
having seen them while he had watched the safari in the past. He knew
of the budding affair between Obroski and Naomi Madison, and he guessed
now from the girl's manner that she must be Naomi. It suited him that
these people should think him Stanley Obroski, for the sometimes grim
and terrible life that he led required the antidote of occasional humor.

He lifted her in his arms. "Why are you so weak?" he asked. "Is it from
hunger?"

She sobbed a scarcely audible "Yes," and buried her face in the hollow
of his neck. She was still half afraid of him. It was true that he did
not act like a madman, but what else could account for the remarkable
accession of courage and strength that had transformed him in the short
time since she had last seen him.

She had known that he was muscular; but she had never attributed to him
such superhuman strength as that which he had displayed during his
duel with the gorilla, and she had known that he was a coward. But this
man was no coward.

He carried her for a short distance, and then put her down on a bed of
soft grasses. "I will get you something to eat," he said.

She saw him swing lightly into the trees and disappear, and again
she was afraid. What a difference it made when he was near her! She
puckered her brows to a sudden thought. Why did she feel so safe with
Stanley Obroski now? She had never looked upon him as a protector or
as able to protect. Every one had considered him a coward. Whatever
metamorphosis had occurred had been sufficiently deeprooted to carry
its impression to her subconscious mind imparting this new feeling of
confidence.

He was gone but a short time, returning with some nuts and fruit. He
came and squatted beside her. "Eat a little at a time," he cautioned.
"After a while I will get flesh for you; that will bring back your
strength."

As she ate she studied him. "You have changed, Stanley," she said.

"Yes?"

"But I like you better. To think that you killed that terrible creature
single-handed! It was marvellous."

"What sort of a beast was it?" he asked. "It spoke English."

"It is a mystery to me. It called itself an Englishman and said that
it was the Duke of Buckingham. Another one pursued it whom it called
Suffolk. A great number of them attacked us at the time that this one
took me from the Arabs. They live in a city called London--he pointed
it out to me. And Rhonda is a captive there in a castle on a ledge a
little above the main part of the city--he said that she was with God
in his castle."

"I thought Rhonda had been killed by a lion," said Tarzan.

"So did I until that creature told me differently. Oh, the poor dear!
Perhaps it would have been better had the lion killed her. Think of
being in the power of those frightful half-men!"

"Where is this city?" asked Tarzan.

"It is back there a way at the foot of the cliff--one can see it
plainly from the summit."

The man rose and lifted the girl into his arms again. "Where are you
going?" she asked.

"I am going to take you to Orman and West. They should be at the falls
before night."

"Oh! They are alive?"

"They were looking for you, and they got lost. They have been hungry,
but otherwise they have gotten along all right. They will be glad to
see you."

"And then we can get out of this awful country?" she asked.

"First we must find out what became of the others and save Rhonda," he
replied.

"Oh, but she can't be saved!" exclaimed the girl. "You should see how
those devils fight--the Arabs, even with their guns, were helpless
against them. There isn't a chance in the world of saving poor Rhonda,
even if she is alive--which I doubt."

"We must try--and, anyway, I wish to see this gorilla city of London."

"You mean you would go there!"

"How else can I see it?"

"Oh, Stanley, please don't go back there!"

"I came here for you."

"Well, then, let Bill West go after Rhonda."

"Do you think he could get her?"

"I don't think any one can get her."

"Perhaps not," he said, "but at least I shall see the city and possibly
learn something about these gorillas that talk English. There is a
mystery worth solving."

They had reached the south end of the valley where the hills drop down
almost to the level of the river. The current here, above the falls,
was not swift; and Tarzan waded in with the girl still in his arms.

"Where are you going?" she cried, frightened.

"We have got to cross the river, and it is easier to cross here than
below the falls. There the current is much swifter, and there are
hippopotamuses and crocodiles. Take hold of my shoulders and hold
tight."

He plunged in and struck for the opposite shore, while the terrified
girl clung to him in desperation. The farther bank looked far away
indeed. Below she could hear the roar of the falls. They seemed to be
drifting down toward them.

But presently the strong, even strokes of the swimmer reassured her. He
seemed unhurried and unexcited, and gradually she relaxed as though she
had absorbed a portion of his confidence. But she sighed in relief as
he clambered out on solid ground.

Her terror at the river crossing was nothing to that which she
experienced in the descent of the escarpment to the foot of the
falls--it froze her to silent horror.

The man descended as nimbly as a monkey; the burden of her weight
seemed nothing to him. Where had Stanley Obroski acquired this facility
that almost put to shame the mountain goat and the monkey?

Half way down he called her attention to three figures near the foot of
the cliff. "There are Orman and West and the Arab," he said, but she
did not dare look down.

The three men below them were watching in astonishment--they had just
recognized that of the two descending toward them one was Obroski and
the other a girl, but whether Naomi or Rhonda they could not be sure.

Orman and West ran forward to meet them as they neared the foot of the
cliff. Tears came to Orman's eyes as he took Naomi in his arms; and
West was glad to see her too, but he was saddened when he discovered
that it was not Rhonda.

"Poor girl!" he muttered as they walked back to their little camp.
"Poor Rhonda! What an awful death!"

"But she is not dead," said Naomi.

"Not dead! How do you know?"

"She is worse than dead, Bill," and then Naomi told all that she knew
of Rhonda's fate.

When she was through, Tarzan rose. "You have enough of that buck left
to last until you can make a kill?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Orman.

"Then I'll be going," said the ape-man.

"Where?" asked the director.

"To find Rhonda."

West leaped to his feet. "I'll go with you, Stanley," he cried.

"But, my God, man! you can't save her now. After what Eyad has told us
of those beasts and Naomi's experience with them you must know that you
haven't a chance." Orman spoke with great seriousness.

"It is my duty to go anyway," said West, "not Stanley's; and I'm going."

"You'd better stay here," advised Tarzan. "You wouldn't have a chance."

"Why wouldn't I have as good a chance as you?" demanded West.

"Perhaps you would, but you would delay me." Tarzan turned away and
walked toward the foot of the escarpment.

Naomi Madison watched him through half closed eyes. "Good-bye,
Stanley!" she called.

"Oh, good-bye!" replied the ape-man and continued on.

They saw him seize a trailing liana and climb to another handhold; the
quick equatorial night engulfed him before he reached the top.

West had stood silently watching him, stunned by his grief. "I'm going
with him," he said finally and started for the escarpment.

"Why, you couldn't climb that place in the daytime, let alone after
dark," warned Orman.

"Don't be foolish, Bill," counselled Naomi. "We know how you feel, but
there's no sense throwing away another life uselessly. Even Stanley'll
never come back." She commenced to sob.

"Then I won't either," said West; "but I'm goin'."




                                 XXIV

                                  GOD


Beyond the summit of the escarpment the ape-man moved silently through
the night. He heard familiar noises, and his nostrils caught familiar
scents that told him that the great cats roamed this strange valley of
the gorillas.

He crossed the river farther up than he had swum it with Naomi, and he
kept to the floor of the valley as he sought the mysterious city. He
had no plan, for he knew nothing of what lay ahead of him--his planning
must await the result of his reconnaissance.

He moved swiftly, often at a trot that covered much ground; and
presently he saw dim lights ahead. That must be the city! He left the
river and moved in a straight line toward the lights, cutting across a
bend in the river which again swung back into his path just before he
reached the shadowy mass of many buildings.

The city was walled, probably, he thought, against, lions; but Tarzan
was not greatly concerned--he had scaled walls before. When he reached
this one he discovered that it was not high--perhaps ten feet--but
sharpened stakes, pointing downward, had been set at close intervals
just below the cap-stones, providing an adequate defense against the
great cats.

The ape-man followed the wall back toward the cliff, where it joined
the rocky, precipitous face of the escarpment. He listened, scenting
the air with his delicate nostrils, seeking to assure himself that
nothing was near on the opposite side of the wall.

Satisfied, he leaped for the stakes. His hands closed upon two of them;
then he drew himself up slowly until his hips were on a level with his
hands, his arms straight at his sides. Leaning forward, he let his body
drop slowly forward until it rested on the stakes and the top of the
wall.

Now he could look down into the narrow alleyway beyond the barrier.
There was no sign of life as far as he could see in either
direction--just a dark, shadowy, deserted alleyway. It required but
a moment now to draw his body to the wall top and drop to the ground
inside the city of the gorillas.

From the vantage point of the wall he had seen lights a short distance
above the level of the main part of the city and what seemed to be the
shadowy outlines of a large building. That, he conjectured, must be the
castle of God, of which Naomi Madison had spoken.

If he were right, that would be his goal; for there the other girl was
supposed to be imprisoned. He moved along the face of the cliff in a
narrow, winding alley that followed generally the contour of the base
of the mountain, though sometimes it wound around buildings that had
been built against the cliff.

He hoped that he would meet none of the denizens of the city, for
the passage was so narrow that he could not avoid detection; and it
was so winding that an enemy might be upon him before he could find
concealment in a shadowy doorway or upon a rooftop, which latter he had
decided would make the safest hiding place and easy of access, since
many of the buildings were low.

He heard voices and saw the dim glow of lights in another part of the
city, and presently there rose above the strange city the booming of
drums.

Shortly thereafter Tarzan came to a flight of steps cut from the living
rock of the cliff. They led upward, disappearing in the gloom above;
but they pointed in the general direction of the building he wished
to reach. Pausing only long enough to reconnoiter with his ears, the
ape-man started the ascent.

He had climbed but a short distance when he turned to see the city
spread out below him. Not far from the foot of the cliff rose the
towers and battlements of what appeared to be a medieval castle. From
within its outer walls came the light that he had seen dimly from
another part of the city; from here too came the sound of drumming. It
was reminiscent of another day, another scene. In retrospection it all
came vividly before him now.

He saw the shaggy figures of the great apes of the tribe of Kerchak.
He saw an earthen drum. About it the apes were forming a great circle.
The females and the young squatted in a thin line at its periphery,
while just in front of them ranged the adult males. Before the drum sat
three old females, each armed with a knotted branch fifteen or eighteen
inches in length.

Slowly and softly they began tapping upon the resounding surface of
the drum as the first, faint rays of the ascending moon silvered the
encircling tree-tops. Then, as the light in the amphitheater increased,
the females augmented the frequency and force of their blows until
presently a wild, rhythmic din pervaded the great jungle for miles in
every direction.

As the din of the drum rose to almost deafening volume Kerchak sprang
into the open space between the squatting males and the drummers.
Standing erect he threw his head far back and looking full into the eye
of the rising moon he beat upon his breast with his great hairy paws
and emitted a fearful, roaring shriek.

Then, crouching, Kerchak slunk noiselessly around the open circle,
veering away from a dead body that lay before the altar-drum; but, as
he passed, keeping his fierce, wicked eyes upon the corpse.

Another male then sprang into the arena and, repeating the horrid cries
of his king, followed stealthily in his wake. Another and another
followed in quick succession until the jungle reverberated with the
now almost ceaseless notes of their bloodthirsty screams. It was the
challenge and the hunt.

How plainly it all came back to the ape-man now as he heard the
familiar beating of the drums in this far-off city!

As he ascended the steps farther he could see over the top of the
castle wall below into the courtyard beyond. He saw a number of
gorillas dancing to the booming of the drums. The scene was lit by
torches, and as he watched, a fire was lighted near the dancers. The
dry material of which it was built ignited quickly and blazed high,
revealing the scene in the courtyard like daylight and illuminating the
face of the cliff and the stairway that Tarzan was ascending; then it
died down as quickly as it had arisen.

The ape-man hastened up the stone stairway that wound and zigzagged up
the cliff face, hoping that no eye had discerned him during the brief
illumination of the cliff. There was no indication that he had been
discovered as he approached the grim pile now towering close above him,
because the strange figure gazing down upon him from the ramparts of
the castle gave no sign that might apprise the ape-man of its presence.
Chuckling, it turned away and disappeared through an embrasure in a
turret.

At the top of the stairway Tarzan found himself upon a broad terrace,
the fore part of the great ledge upon which the castle was built.
Before him rose the grim edifice without wall or moat looming
menacingly in the darkness.

The only opening on the level of the ledge was a large double doorway,
one of the doors of which stood slightly ajar. Perhaps the lord of the
jungle should have been warned by this easy accessibility. Perhaps it
did arouse his suspicions--the natural suspicion of the wild thing
for the trap--but he had come here for the purpose of entering this
building; and he could not ignore such a God-given opportunity.

Cautiously he approached the doorway. Beyond was only darkness. He
pushed against the great door, and it swung silently inward. He was
glad that the hinges had not creaked. He paused a moment in the
opening, listening. From within came the scent of gorillas and a
strange man-like scent that intrigued and troubled him, but he neither
heard nor saw signs of life beyond the doorway.

As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom of the interior he saw that
he was in a semi-circular foyer in the posterior wall of which were set
several doors. Approaching the door farthest to the left he tried it;
but it was locked, nor could he open the second. The third, however,
swung in as he pushed upon it, revealing a descending staircase.

He listened intently but heard nothing; then he tried the fourth door.
It too was locked. So were the fifth and sixth. This was the last door,
and he returned to the third. Passing through it he descended the
stairway, feeling his way through the darkness.

Still all was silence. Not a sound had come to his ears since he had
entered the building to suggest that there was another within it than
himself; yet he knew that there were living creatures there. His
sensitive nostrils had told him that and the strange, uncanny instinct
of the jungle beast.

At the foot of the stairs he groped with his hands, finding a door.
He felt for and found a latch. Lifting it, he pushed upon the door;
and it opened. Then there came strongly to his nostrils the scent of a
woman--a white woman! Had he found her? Had he found the one he sought?

The room was utterly dark. He stepped into it, and as he released the
door he heard it close behind him with a gentle click. With the quick
intuition of the wild beast, he guessed that he was trapped. He sprang
back to the door, seeking to open it; but his fingers found only a
smooth surface.

He stood in silence, listening, waiting. He heard rapid breathing at a
little distance from him. Insistent in his nostrils was the scent of
the woman. He guessed that the breathing he heard was hers; its tempo
connoted fear. Cautiously he approached the sound.

He was quite close when a noise ahead of him brought him to a sudden
halt. It sounded like the creaking of rusty hinges. Then a light
appeared revealing the whole scene.

Directly before him on a pallet of straw sat a white woman. Beyond
her was a door constructed of iron bars through which he saw another
chamber. At the far side of this second chamber was a doorway in which
stood a strange creature holding a lighted torch in one hand. Tarzan
could not tell if it were human or gorilla.

It approached the barred doorway, chuckling softly to itself. The woman
had turned her face away from Tarzan and was looking at the thing in
horror. Now she turned a quick glance toward the ape-man. He saw that
she was quite like the girl, Naomi, and very beautiful.

As her eyes fell upon him, revealed by the flickering light of the
torch, she gasped in astonishment. "Stanley Obroski!" she ejaculated.
"Are you a prisoner too?"

"I guess I am," replied the ape-man.

"What were you doing here? How did they get you? I thought that you
were dead."

"I came here to find you," he replied.

"You!" Her tone was incredulous.

The creature in the next room had approached the bars, and stood there
chuckling softly. Tarzan looked up at it. It had the face of a man, but
its skin was black like that of a gorilla. Its grinning lips revealed
the heavy fangs of the anthropoid. Scant black hair covered those
portions of its body that an open shirt and a loin cloth revealed. The
skin of the body, arms, and legs was black with large patches of white.
The bare feet were the feet of a man; the hands were black and hairy
and wrinkled, with long, curved claws; the eyes were the sunken eyes of
an old man--a very old man.

"So you are acquainted?" he said. "How interesting! And you came to get
her, did you? I thought that you had come to call on me. Of course it
is not quite the proper thing for a stranger to come by night without
an invitation--and by stealth.

"It was just by the merest chance that I learned of your coming. I
have Henry to thank for that. Had he not been staging a dance I should
not have known, and thus I should have been denied the pleasure of
receiving you as I have.

"You see, I was looking down from my castle into the courtyard of
Henry's palace when his bonfire flared up and lighted the Holy
Stairs--and there you were!"

The creature's voice was well modulated, its diction that of a
cultivated Englishman. The incongruity between its speech and its
appearance rendered the latter all the more repulsive and appalling by
contrast.

"Yes, I came for this girl," said the ape-man.

"And now you are a prisoner too." The creature chuckled.

"What do you want of us?" demanded Tarzan. "We are not enemies; we have
not harmed you."

"What do I want of you! That is a long story. But perhaps you two would
understand and appreciate it. The beasts with which I am surrounded
hear, but they do not understand. Before you serve my final purpose I
shall keep you for a while for the pleasure of conversing with rational
human beings.

"I have not seen any for a long time, a long, long time. Of course I
hate them none the less, but I must admit that I shall find pleasure in
their companionship for a short time. You are both very good-looking
too. That will make it all the more pleasant, just as it increases your
value for the purpose for which I intend you--the final purpose, you
understand. I am particularly pleased that the girl is so beautiful. I
always did have a fondness for blonds. Were I not already engaged along
other lines of research, and were it possible, I should like nothing
better than to conduct a scientific investigation to determine the
biological or psychological explanation of the profound attraction that
the blond female has for the male of all races."

From the pocket of his shirt he extracted a couple of crudely fashioned
cheroots, one of which he proferred through the bars to Tarzan. "Will
you not smoke Mr.--eh--er--Obroski! That would be a Polish name, I
believe; but you do not resemble a Pole. You look quite English--quite
as English as I."

"I do not smoke," said Tarzan, and then added, "thank you."

"You do not know what you miss--tobacco is such a boon to tired nerves."

"My nerves are never tired."

"Fortunate man! And fortunate for me too. I could not ask for anything
better than a combination of youth with a healthy body and a healthy
nervous system--to say nothing of your unquestionable masculine beauty.
I shall be wholly regenerated."

"I do not know what you are talking about," said Tarzan.

"No, of course not. How could one expect that you would understand what
I alone in all the world know! But some other time I shall be delighted
to explain. Right now I must go up and have a look down into the king's
courtyard. I find that I must keep an eye on Henry the Eighth. He has
been grossly misbehaving himself of late--he and Suffolk and Howard.
I shall leave this torch burning for you--it will make it much more
pleasant; and I want you to enjoy yourselves as much as possible before
the--ah--er--well, _au revoir!_ Make yourselves quite at home." He
turned and crossed toward a door at the opposite side of the room,
chuckling as he went.

Tarzan stepped quickly to the bars separating the two rooms. "Come back
here!" he commanded. "Either let us out of this hole or tell us why you
are holding us--what you intend doing with us."

The creature wheeled suddenly, its expression transformed by a hideous
snarl. "You dare issue orders to me!" it screamed.

"And why not?" demanded the ape-man. "Who are you?"

The creature took a step nearer the bars and tapped its hairy chest
with a horny talon. "I am God!" it cried.




                                  XXV

                          "BEFORE I EAT YOU!"


As the thing that called itself God departed from the other chamber,
closing the door after it, Tarzan turned toward the girl sitting on the
straw of their prison cell.

"I have seen many strange things in my life," he said, "but this is by
far the strangest. Sometimes I think that I must be dreaming."

"That is what I thought at first," replied the girl; "but this is no
dream--it is a terrible, a frightful reality."

"Including God?" he asked.

"Yes; even God is a reality. That thing is the god of these gorillas.
They all fear him and most of them worship him. They say that he
created them. I do not understand it--it is all like a hideous chimera."

"What do you suppose he intends to do with us?"

"Oh, I don't know; but it is something horrible," she replied. "Down in
the city they venture hideous guesses, but even they do not know. He
brings young gorillas here, and they are never seen again."

"How long have you been here?"

"I have been in God's castle since yesterday, but I was in the palace
of Henry the Eighth for more than a week. Don't those names sound
incongruous when applied to beasts?"

"I thought that nothing more could ever sound strange to me after I met
_Buckingham_ this morning and heard him speak English--a bull gorilla!"

"You met Buckingham? It was he who captured me and brought me to this
city. Did he capture you too?"

Tarzan shook his head. "No. He had captured Naomi Madison."

"Naomi! What became of her?"

"She is with Orman and West and one of the Arabs at the foot of
the falls. I came here to find you and take you to them; but it is
commencing to look as though I had made a mess of it--getting captured
myself."

"But how did Naomi get away from Buckingham?" demanded the girl.

"I killed him."

"_You_ killed _Buckingham_!" She looked at him with wide, unbelieving
eyes.

From the reactions of the others toward his various exploits Tarzan
had already come to understand that Obroski's friends had not held his
courage in very high esteem, and so it amused him all the more that
they should mistake him for this unquestioned coward.

The girl surveyed him in silence through level eyes for several moments
as though she were trying to read his soul and learn the measure of his
imposture; then she shook her head.

"You're not a bad kid, Stanley," she said; "but you mustn't tell
naughty stories to your Aunt Rhonda."

One of the ape-man's rare smiles bared his strong, white teeth. "No one
can fool you, can they?" he asked admiringly.

"Well, I'll admit that they'd have to get up pretty early in the
morning to put anything over on Rhonda Terry. But what I can't
understand is that make-up of yours--the scenery--where did you get it
and why? I should think you'd freeze."

"You will have to ask Rungula, chief of the Bansutos," replied Tarzan.

"What has he to do with it?"

"He appropriated the Obroski wardrobe."

"I commence to see the light. But if you were captured by the Bansutos,
how did you escape?"

"If I told you you would not believe me. You do not believe that I
killed Buckingham."

"How could I, unless you sneaked up on him while he was asleep? It
just isn't in the cards, Stanley, for any man to have killed that big
gorilla unless he had a rifle--that's it! You shot him."

"And then threw my rifle away?" inquired the ape-man.

"M-m-m, that doesn't sound reasonable, does it? No, I guess you're just
a plain damn liar, Stanley."

"Thank you."

"Don't get sore. I really like you and always have; but I have seen
too much of life to believe in miracles, and the idea of you killing
Buckingham single-handed would be nothing short of a miracle."

Tarzan turned away and commenced to examine the room in which they
were confined. The flickering light of the torch in the adjoining room
lighted it dimly. He found a square chamber the walls of which were
faced with roughly hewn stone. The ceiling was of planking supported by
huge beams. The far end of the room was so dark that he could not see
the ceiling at that point; the last beam cast a heavy shadow there upon
the ceiling. He thought he detected a steady current of air moving from
the barred doorway of the other room to this far corner of their cell,
suggesting an opening there; but he could find none, and abandoned the
idea.

Having finished his inspection he came and sat down on the straw beside
Rhonda. "You say you have been here a week?" he inquired.

"In the city--not right here," she replied. "Why?"

"I was thinking--they must feed you, then?" he inquired.

"Yes; celery, bamboo tips, fruit, and nuts--it gets monotonous."

"I was not thinking of _what_ they fed you but of how. How is your food
brought to you and when? I mean since you have been in this room."

"When they brought me here yesterday they gave me enough food for the
day; this morning they brought me another day's supply. They bring
it into that next room and shove it through the bars--no dishes or
anything like that--they just shove it through onto the floor with
their dirty, bare hands, or paws. All except the water--they bring
water in that gourd there in the corner."

"They don't open the door, then, and come into the room?"

"No."

"That is too bad."

"Why?"

"If they opened the door we might have a chance to escape," explained
the ape-man.

"Not a chance--the food is brought by a big bull gorilla. Oh, I
forgot!" she exclaimed, laughing. "You'd probably break him in two and
throw him in the waste basket like you did Buckingham."

Tarzan laughed with her. "I keep forgetting that I am a coward," he
said. "You must be sure to remind me if any danger threatens us."

"I guess you won't have to be reminded, Stanley." She was looking at
him again closely. "But you have changed in some way," she ventured
finally. "I don't know just how to explain it, but you seem to have
more assurance. And you sure put up a good front when you were talking
to God. Say! Do you suppose what you've been through the past few weeks
has affected your mind?"

Further conversation was interrupted by the return of God. He pulled a
chair up in front of the barred door and sat down.

"Henry is a fool," he announced. "He's trying to work his followers up
to a pitch that will make it possible for him to induce them to attack
heaven and kill God. Henry wants to be God. I made him a king, and now
he wants to be God. But he gave them too much to drink; and now most of
them are asleep in the palace courtyard, including Henry. They won't
bother me tonight; so I thought I'd come down and have a pleasant visit
with you. There won't be many more opportunities, for you will have to
serve your purpose before something happens to prevent it. I can't take
any chances."

"What is this strange purpose we are to serve?" asked Rhonda.

"It is purely scientific; but it is a long story and I shall have to
start at the beginning," explained God.

"The beginning!" he repeated dreamily. "How long ago it was! It was
while I was still an undergraduate at Oxford that I first had a
glimmering of the light that finally dawned. Let me see--that must have
been about 1855. No, it was before that--I graduated in '55. That's
right, I was born in '33 and I was twenty-two when I graduated.

"I had always been intrigued by Lamarck's investigations and later
by Darwin's. They were on the right track, but they did not go far
enough; then, shortly after my graduation, I was travelling in Austria
when I met a priest at Brunn who was working along lines similar to
mine. His name was Mendel. We exchanged ideas. He was the only man in
the world who could appreciate me, but he could not go all the way with
me. I got some help from him; but, doubtless, he got more from me;
though I never heard anything more about him before I left England.

"In 1857 I felt that I had practically solved the mystery of heredity,
and in that year I published a monograph on the subject. I will explain
the essence of my discoveries in as simple language as possible, so
that you may understand the purpose you are to serve.

"Briefly, there are two types of cells that we inherit from our
parents--body cells and germ cells. These cells are composed of
chromosomes containing genes--a separate gene for each mental and
physical characteristic. The body cells, dividing, multiplying,
changing, growing, determine the sort of individual we are to be;
the germ cells, remaining practically unchanged from our conception,
determine what characteristics our progeny will inherit, through us,
from our progenitors and from us.

"I determined that heredity could be controlled through the
transference of these genes from one individual to another. I learned
that the genes never die; they are absolutely indestructible--the
basis of all life on earth, the promise of immortality throughout all
eternity.

"I was certain of all this, but I could carry on no experiments.
Scientists scoffed at me, the public laughed at me, the authorities
threatened to lock me up in a madhouse. The church wished to crucify me.

"I hid, and carried on my research in secret. I obtained genes from
living subjects--young men and women whom I enticed to my laboratory on
various pretexts. I drugged them and extracted germ cells from them. I
had not discovered at that time, or, I should say, I had not perfected
the technic of recovering body cells.

"In 1858 I managed, through bribery, to gain access to a number of
tombs in Westminster Abbey; and from the corpses of former kings and
queens of England and many a noble lord and lady I extracted the
deathless genes.

"It was the rape of Henry the Eighth that caused my undoing. I was
discovered in the act by one who had not been bribed. He did not turn
me over to the authorities, but he commenced to blackmail me. Because
of him I faced either financial ruin or a long term in prison.

"My fellow scientists had flouted me; the government would punish
me; I saw that my only rewards for my labors for mankind were to be
ingratitude and persecution. I grew to hate man, with his bigotry, his
hypocrisy, and his ignorance. I still hate him.

"I fled England. My plans were already made. I came to Africa and
employed a white guide to lead me to gorilla country. He brought me
here; then I killed him, so that no one might learn of my whereabouts.

"There were hundreds of gorillas here, yes, thousands. I poisoned their
food, I shot them with poisoned arrows; but I used a poison that only
anesthetized them. Then I removed their germ cells and substituted
human cells that I had brought with me from England in a culture medium
that encouraged their multiplication."

The strange creature seemed warmed by some mysterious inner fire as
he discoursed on this, his favorite subject. The man and the girl
listening to him almost forgot the incongruity of his cultured English
diction and his hideous, repulsive appearance--far more hideous and
repulsive than that of the gorillas; for he seemed neither beast nor
man but rather some horrid hybrid born of an unholy union. Yet the mind
within that repellant skull held them fascinated.

"For years I watched them," he continued, "with increasing
disappointment. From generation to generation I could note no outward
indication that the human germ cells had exerted the slightest
influence upon the anthropoids; then I commenced to note indications of
greater intelligence among them. Also, they quarrelled more, were more
avaricious, more vindictive--they were revealing more and more the
traits of man. I felt that I was approaching my goal.

"I captured some of the young and started to train them. Very shortly
after this training commenced I heard them repeating English words
among themselves--words that they had heard me speak. Of course they
did not know the meaning of the words; but that was immaterial--they
had revealed the truth to me. My gorillas had inherited the minds and
vocal organs of their synthetic human progenitors.

"The exact reason why they inherited these human attributes and not
others is still a mystery that I have not solved. But I had proved the
correctness of my theory. Now I set to work to educate my wards. It was
not difficult. I sent these first out as missionaries and teachers.

"As the gorillas learned and came to me for further instruction, I
taught them agriculture, architecture, and building--among other
things. Under my direction they built this city, which I named London,
upon the river that I have called Thames. We English always take
England wherever we go.

"I gave them laws, I became their god, I gave them a royal family and a
nobility. They owe everything to me, and now some of them want to turn
upon me and destroy me--yes, they have become very human. They have
become ambitious, treacherous, cruel--they are almost men."

"But you?" asked the girl. "You are not human. You are part gorilla.
How could you have been an Englishman?"

"I am an Englishman, nevertheless," replied the creature. "Once I was
a very handsome Englishman. But old age overtook me. I felt my powers
failing. I saw the grave beckoning. I did not wish to die, for I felt
that I had only commenced to learn the secrets of life.

"I sought some means to prolong my own and to bring back youth. At last
I was successful. I discovered how to segregate body cells and transfer
them from one individual to another. I used young gorillas of both
sexes and transplanted their virile, youthful body cells to my own body.

"I achieved success in so far as staying the ravages of old age is
concerned and renewing youth, but as the body cells of the gorillas
multiplied within me I began to acquire the physical characteristics of
gorillas. My skin turned black, hair grew upon all parts of my body,
my hands changed, my teeth; some day I shall be, to all intent and
purpose, a gorilla. Or rather I should have been had it not been for
the fortunate circumstance that brought you to me."

"I do not understand," said Rhonda.

"You will. With the body cells from you and this young man I shall not
only insure my youth, but I shall again take on the semblance of man."
His eyes burned with a mad fire.

The girl shuddered. "It is horrible!" she exclaimed.

The creature chuckled. "You will be serving a noble purpose--a far
more noble purpose than as though you had merely fulfilled the prosaic
biological destiny for which you were born."

"But you will not have to kill us!" she exclaimed. "You take the germ
cells from gorillas without killing them. When you have taken some from
us, you will let us go?"

The creature rose and came close to the bars. His yellow fangs were
bared, in a fiendish grin. "You do not know all," he said. A mad light
shone in his blazing eyes. "I have not told you all that I have learned
about rejuvenation. The new body cells are potent, but they work
slowly. I have found that by eating the flesh and the glands of youth
the speed of the metamorphosis is accelerated.

"I leave you now to meditate upon the great service that you are to
render science!" He backed toward the far door of the other apartment.
"But I will return. Later I shall eat you--eat you both. I shall eat
the man first; and then, my beauty, I shall eat you! But before I eat
you--ah, before I eat you!"

Chuckling, he backed through the doorway and closed the door after him.




                                 XXVI

                                TRAPPED


"It looks like curtain," said the girl.

"Curtain?"

"The end of the show."

Tarzan smiled. "I suppose you mean that there is no hope for us--that
we are doomed."

"It looks like it, and I am afraid. Aren't you afraid?"

"I presume that I am supposed to be, eh?"

She surveyed him from beneath puckered brows. "I cannot understand you,
Stanley," she said. "You do not seem to be afraid now, but you used
to be afraid of everything. Aren't you really afraid, or are you just
posing--the actor, you know?"

"Perhaps I feel that what is about to happen is, about to happen and
that being afraid won't help any. Fear will never get us out of here
alive, and I certainly don't intend to stay here and die if I can help
it."

"I don't see how we are going to get out," said Rhonda.

"We are nine tenths out now."

"What do you mean?"

"We are still alive," he laughed, "and that is fully nine tenths of
safety. If we were dead we would be a hundred per cent. lost; so alive
we should certainly be at least ninety per cent. saved."

Rhonda laughed. "I didn't know you were such an optimist," she declared.

"Perhaps I have something to be optimistic about," he replied. "Do you
feel that draft on the floor?"

She looked up at him quickly. There was a troubled expression in her
eyes as she scrutinized his. "Perhaps you had better lie down and try
to sleep," she suggested. "You are overwrought."

It was his turn to eye her. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Do I seem
exhausted?"

"No, but--but I just thought the strain might have been too great on
you."

"What strain?" he inquired.

"What strain!" she exclaimed. "Stanley Obroski you come and lie down
here and let me rub your head--perhaps it will put you to sleep."

"I'm not sleepy. Don't you want to get out of here?"

"Of course I do, but we can't."

"Perhaps not, but we can try. I asked you if you felt the draft on the
floor."

"Of course I feel it, but what has that to do with anything. I'm not
cold."

"It may not have anything to do with anything," Tarzan admitted, "but
it suggests possibilities."

"What possibilities?" she demanded.

"A way out. The fresh air comes in from that other room through the
bars of that door; it has to go out somewhere. The draft is so strong
that it suggests a rather large opening. Do you see any large opening
in this room through which the air could escape."

The girl rose to her feet. She was commencing to understand the drift
of his remarks. "No," she said, "I see no opening."

"Neither do I; but there must be one, and we know that it must be some
place that we cannot see." He spoke in a whisper.

"Yes, that is right."

"And the only part of this room that we can't see plainly is among the
dark shadows on the ceiling over in that far corner. Also, I have felt
the air current moving in that direction."

He walked over to the part of the room he had indicated and looked up
into the darkness. The girl came and stood beside him, also peering
upward.

"Do you see anything?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"It is very dark," he replied, "but I think that I do see something--a
little patch that appears darker than the rest, as though it had depth."

"Your eyes are better than mine," she said. "I see nothing."

From somewhere apparently directly above them, but at a distance,
sounded a hollow chuckle, weird, uncanny.

Rhonda laid her hand impulsively on Tarzan's arm. "You are right," she
whispered. "There is an opening above us--that sound came down through
it."

"We must be very careful what we say above a whisper," he cautioned.

The opening in the ceiling, if such it were, appeared to be directly in
the corner of the room. Tarzan examined the walls carefully, feeling
every square foot of them as high as he could reach; but he found
nothing that would give him a handhold. Then he sprang upward with
outstretched hand--and felt an edge of an opening in the ceiling.

"It is there," he whispered.

"But what good will it do us? We can't reach it."

"We can try," he said; then he stooped down close to the wall in the
corner of the room. "Get on my shoulders," he directed--"stand on them.
Support yourself with your hands against the wall."

Rhonda climbed to his broad shoulders. Grasping her legs to steady her,
he rose slowly until he stood erect.

"Feel carefully in all directions," he whispered. "Estimate the size of
the opening; search for a handhold."

For some time the girl was silent. He could tell by the shifting of
her weight from one foot to the other and by the stretching of her leg
muscles that she was examining the opening in every direction as far as
she could reach.

Presently she spoke to him. "Let me down," she said.

He lowered her to the floor. "What did you discover?" he asked.

"The opening is about two feet by three. It seems to extend inward over
the top of the wall at one side--I could distinctly feel a ledge there.
If I could get on it I could explore higher."

"We'll try again," said Tarzan. "Put your hands on my shoulders." They
stood facing one another. "Now place your left foot in my right hand.
That's it! Straighten up and put your other foot in my left hand. Now
keep your legs and body rigid, steady yourself with your hands against
the wall; and I'll lift you up again--probably a foot and a half higher
than you were before."

"All right," she whispered. "Lift!"

He raised her easily but slowly to the full extent of his arms. For a
moment he held her thus; then, first from one hand and then from the
other, her weight was lifted from him.

He waited, listening. A long minute of silence ensued; then, from above
him, came a surprised "Ouch!"

Tarzan made no sound, he asked no question--he waited. He could hear
her breathing, and knew that nothing very serious had surprised that
exclamation from her. Presently he caught a low whisper from above.

"Toss me your rope!"

He lifted the grass rope from where it lay coiled across one shoulder
and threw a loop upward into the darkness toward the girl above. The
first time, she missed it and it fell back; but the next, she caught
it. He heard her working with it in the darkness above.

"Try it," she whispered presently.

He seized the rope above his head and raised his feet from the ground
so that it supported all his weight. It held without slipping; then,
hand over hand, he climbed. He felt the girl reach out and touch his
body; then she guided one of his feet to the ledge where she stood--a
moment later he was standing by her side.

"What have you found?" he asked, straining his eyes through the
darkness.

"I found a wooden beam," she replied. "I bumped my head on it."

He understood now the origin of the exclamation he had heard, and
reaching out felt a heavy beam opposite his shoulders. The rope was
fastened around it. The ledge they were standing on was evidently the
top of the wall of the room below. The shaft that ran upward was, as
the girl had said, about two feet by three. The beam bisected its
longer axis, leaving a space on each side large enough to permit a
man's body to pass.

Tarzan wedged himself through, and clambered to the top of the beam.
Above him, the shaft rose as far as he could reach without handhold or
foothold.

He leaned down toward the girl. "Give me your hand," he said, and
lifted her to the beam. "We've got to do a little more exploring," he
whispered. "I'll lift you as I did before."

"I hope you can keep your balance on this beam," she said, but she did
not hesitate to step into his cupped hands.

"I hope so," he replied laconically.

For a moment she groped about above her; then she whispered, "Let me
down."

He lowered her to his side, holding her so that she would not lose her
balance and fall.

"Well?" he asked.

"I found another beam," she said, "but the top of it is just out of my
reach. I could feel the bottom and a part of each side, but I was just
a few inches too short to reach the top. What are we to do? It is just
like a nightmare--straining here in the darkness, with some horrible
menace lurking ready to seize one, and not being quite able to reach
the sole means of safety."

Tarzan stooped and untied the rope that was still fastened around the
beam upon which they stood.

"The tarmangani have a number of foolish sayings," he remarked. "One of
them is that there are more ways than one of skinning a cat."

"Who are the tarmangani?" she asked.

Tarzan grinned in the safety of the concealing darkness. For a moment
he had forgotten that he was playing a part. "Oh, just a silly tribe,"
he replied.

"That is an old saying in America. I have heard my grandfather use it.
It is strange that an African tribe should have an identical proverb."

He did not tell her that in his mother tongue, the first language that
he had learned, the language of the great apes, tarmangani meant any or
all white men.

He coiled the rope; and, holding one end, tossed the coils into the
darkness of the shaft above him. They fell back on top of them.
Again he coiled and threw--again with the same result. Twice more he
failed, and then the end of the rope that he held in his hand remained
stretching up into the darkness while the opposite end dropped to swing
against them. With the free end that he had thrown over the beam he
bent a noose around the length that depended from the opposite side of
the beam, making it fast with a bowline knot; then he pulled the noose
up tight against the beam above.

"Do you think you can climb it?" he asked the girl.

"I don't know," she said, "but I can try."

"You might fall," he warned. "I'll carry you." He swung her lightly
to his back before she realized what he purposed. "Hold tight!" he
admonished; then he swarmed up the rope like a monkey.

At the top he seized the beam and drew himself and the girl onto it;
and here they repeated what they had done before, searching for and
finding another beam above the one upon which they stood.

As the ape-man drew himself to the third beam he saw an opening
directly before his face, and through the opening a star. Now the
darkness was relieved. The faint light of a partially cloudy night
revealed a little section of flat roof bounded by a parapet, and when
Tarzan reconnoitered further he discovered that they had ascended into
one of the small towers that surmounted the castle.

As he was about to step from the tower onto the roof he heard the
uncanny chuckle with which they were now so familiar, and drew back
into the darkness of the interior. Silent and motionless the two stood
there waiting, listening.

The chuckling was repeated, this time nearer; and to the keen ears of
Tarzan came the sound of naked feet approaching. His ears told him
more than this; they told him that the thing that walked did not walk
alone--there was another with it.

Presently they came in sight, walking slowly. One of them, as the
ape-man had guessed, was the creature that called itself God; the other
was a large bull gorilla.

As they came opposite the two fugitives they stopped and leaned upon
the parapet, looking down into the city.

"Henry should not have caroused tonight, Cranmer," remarked the
creature called God. "He has a hard day before him tomorrow."

"How is that, My Lord God?" inquired the other.

"Have you forgotten that this is the anniversary of the completion of
the Holy Stairway to Heaven?"

"'Sblood! So it is, and Henry has to walk up it on his hands to worship
at the feet of his God."

"And Henry is getting old and much too fat. The sun will be hot too.
But--it humbleth the pride of kings and teacheth humility to the common
people."

"Let none forget that thou art the Lord our God, O Father!" said
Cranmer piously.

"And what a surprise I'll have for Henry when he reaches the top of
the stairs! There I'll stand with this English girl I stole from him
kneeling at my feet. You sent for her, didn't you, Cranmer?"

"Yes, My Lord, I sent one of the lesser priests to fetch her. They
should be here any minute now. But, My Lord, do you think that it will
be wise to anger Henry further? You know that many of the nobles are on
his side and are plotting against you."

A horrid chuckle broke from the lips of the gorilla-man. "You forget
that I am God," he said. "You must never forget that fact, Cranmer.
Henry is forgetting it, and his poor memory will prove his undoing."
The creature straightened up to its full height. An ugly growl
supplanted the chuckle of a moment before. "You all forget," he cried,
"that it was I who created you; it is I who can destroy you! First I
shall make Henry mad, and then I shall crush him. That is the kind of
god that humans like--it is the only kind they can understand. Because
they are jealous and cruel and vindictive they have to have a jealous,
cruel, vindictive god. I was able to give you only the minds of humans;
so I have to be a god that such minds can appreciate. Tomorrow Henry
shall appreciate me to the full!"

"What do you mean, My Lord?"

The gorilla god chuckled again. "When he reaches the top of the stairs
I am going to blast him; I am going to destroy him."

"You are going to kill the king! But, My Lord, the Prince of Wales is
too young to be king."

"He will not be king--I am tired of kings. We shall pass over Edward
VI and Mary. That is one of the advantages of having God on your side,
Cranmer--we shall skip eleven years and save you from burning at the
stake. The next sovereign of England will be Queen Elizabeth."

"Henry has many daughters from which to choose, My Lord," said Cranmer.

"I shall choose none of them. I have just had an inspiration, Cranmer."

"From whence, My Lord God?"

"From myself, of course, you fool! It is perfect. It is ideal." He
chuckled appreciatively. "I am going to make this English girl queen of
England--Queen Elizabeth! She will be tractable--she will do as I tell
her; and she will serve all my other purposes as well. Or almost all.
Of course I cannot eat her, Cranmer. One cannot eat his queen and have
her too."

"Here comes the under priest, My Lord," interrupted Cranmer.

"He is alone," exclaimed God. "He has not brought the girl."

An old gorilla lumbered up to the two. He appeared excited.

"Where is the girl?" demanded God.

"She was not there, My Lord. She is gone, and the man too."

"Gone! But that is impossible."

"The room is empty."

"And the doors! Had they been unlocked--either of them?"

"No, My Lord; they were both locked," replied the under priest.

The gorilla god went suddenly silent. For a few moments he remained in
thought; then he spoke in very low tones to his two companions.

Tarzan and the girl watched them from their place of concealment in the
tower. The ape-man was restless. He wished that they would go away so
that he could search for some avenue of escape from the castle. Alone,
he might have faced them and relied on his strength and agility to win
his freedom; but he could not hope to make good the escape of the girl
and himself both in the face of their ignorance of a way out of the
castle and the numbers which he was sure the gorilla god could call to
his assistance in case of need.

He saw the priest turn and hurry away. The other two walked a short
distance from the tower, turned so that they faced it, leaned against
the parapet, and continued their conversation; though now Tarzan could
no longer overhear their exact words. The position of the two was such
that the fugitives could not have left the tower without being seen by
them.

The ape-man became apprehensive. The abnormal sensibility of the hunted
beast warned him of impending danger; but he did not know where to look
for it, nor in what form to expect it.

Presently he saw a bull gorilla roll within the range of his vision.
The beast carried a pike. Behind him came another similarly armed, and
another and another and another until twenty of the great anthropoids
were gathered on the castle roof.

They clustered about Cranmer and the gorilla god for a minute or two.
The latter was talking to them. Tarzan could recognize the tones if not
the words. Then the twenty approached the tower and grouped themselves
in a semicircle before the low aperture leading into it.

Both Rhonda Terry and the lord of the jungle were assured that their
hiding place was guessed if not known, yet they could not be certain.
They would wait. That was all that they could do. However, it was an
easy place to defend; and they might remain there awaiting some happy
circumstance that would give them a better chance of escape than was
presented to them at the moment.

The gorillas on the roof seemed only to be waiting. They did not
appear to be contemplating an investigation of the interior of the
tower. Perhaps, thought Tarzan, they were there for some other purpose
than that which he had imagined. They might have been gathered in
preparation for the coming of the king to his death in the morning.

By the parapet stood the gorilla god with the bull called Cranmer. The
weird chuckle of the former was the only sound that broke the silence
of the night. The ape-man wondered why the thing was chuckling.

A sudden upward draft from the shaft below them brought a puff of acrid
smoke and a wave of heat. Tarzan felt the girl clutch his arm. Now he
knew why the gorillas waited so patiently before the entrance to the
tower. Now he knew why the gorilla god chuckled.




                                 XXVII

                               HOLOCAUST


Tarzan considered the problem that confronted him. It was evident that
they could not long endure the stifling, blinding smoke. To make a
sudden attack upon the gorillas would be but to jeopardize the life
of his companion without offering her any hope of escape. Had he been
alone it would have been different, but now there seemed no alternative
to coming quietly out and giving themselves up.

On the other hand he knew that the gorilla god purposed death for him
and either death or a worse fate for the girl. Whatever course he
pursued, then, would evidently prove disastrous. The ape-man, seldom
hesitant in reaching a decision, was frankly in a quandary.

Briefly he explained his doubts to Rhonda. "I think I'll rush them," he
concluded. "At least there will be some satisfaction in that."

"They'd only kill you, Stanley," she said. "Oh, I wish you hadn't come.
It was brave, but you have just thrown away your life. I can never--"
The stifling smoke terminated her words in a fit of coughing.

"We can't stand this any longer," he muttered. "I'm going out. Follow
me, and watch for a chance to escape."

Stooping low, the ape-man sprang from the tower. A savage growl rumbled
from his deep chest. The girl, following directly behind him, heard and
was horrified. She thought only of the man with her as Stanley Obroski,
the coward; and she believed that his mind must have been deranged by
the hopelessness of his situation.

The gorillas leaped forward to seize him. "Capture him!" cried the
gorilla god. "But do not kill him."

Tarzan leaped at the nearest beast. His knife flashed in the light of
the torches that some of the creatures carried. It sank deep into the
chest of the victim that chance had placed in the path of the lord
of the jungle. The brute screamed, clutched at the ape-man only to
collapse at his feet.

But others closed upon the bronzed giant; then another and another
tasted the steel of that swift blade. The gorilla god was beside
himself with rage and excitement. "Seize him! Seize him!" he screamed.
"Do not kill him! He is mine!"

During the excitement Rhonda sought an avenue of escape. She slunk
behind the battling beasts to search for a stairway leading from the
roof. Every eye, every thought was on the battle being waged before
the tower. No one noticed the girl. She came to a doorway in another
tower. Before her she saw the top of a flight of stairs. They were
illuminated by the flickering light of torches.

At a run she started down. Below her, smoke was billowing, shutting off
her view. It was evident, she guessed, that the smoke from the fire
that had been lighted to dislodge Obroski and herself from the tower
had drifted to other parts of the castle.

At a turn in the stairs she ran directly into the arms of a gorilla
leaping upward. Behind him were two others. The first seized her and
whirled her back to the others. "She must be trying to escape," said
her captor. "Bring her along to God;" then he leaped swiftly on up the
stairs.

Three gorillas had fallen before Tarzan's knife, but the fourth seized
his wrist and struck at him with the haft of his pike. The ape-man
closed; his teeth sought the jugular of his antagonist and fastened
there. The brute screamed and sought to tear himself free; then one of
his companions stepped in and struck Tarzan heavily across one temple
with the butt of a battle axe.

The lord of the jungle sank senseless to the roof amid the victorious
shouts of his foemen. The gorilla god pushed forward.

"Do not kill him!" he screamed again.

"He is already dead, My Lord," said one of the gorillas.

The god trembled with disappointment and rage, and was about to speak
when the gorilla that had recaptured Rhonda forced its way through the
crowd.

"The castle is afire, My Lord!" he cried. "The smudge that was built to
smoke out the prisoners spread to the dry grass on the floor of their
cell, and now the beams and floor above are all ablaze--the first floor
of the castle is a roaring furnace. If you are not to be trapped, My
Lord, you must escape at once."

Those who heard him looked quickly about. A dense volume of smoke was
pouring from the tower from which Tarzan and Rhonda had come; smoke was
coming from other towers nearby; it was rising from beyond the parapet,
evidently coming from the windows of the lower floors.

There was instant uneasiness. The gorillas rushed uncertainly this way
and that. All beasts are terrified by fire, and the instincts of beasts
dominated these aberrant creatures. Presently, realizing that they
might be cut off from all escape, panic seized them.

Screaming and roaring, they bolted for safety, deserting their
prisoners and their god. Some rushed headlong down blazing stairways to
death, others leaped the parapet to an end less horrible, perhaps, but
equally certain.

Their piercing shrieks, their terrified roars rose above the crackling
and the roaring of the flames, above the screamed commands of their
gorilla god, who, seeing himself deserted by his creatures, completely
lost his head and joined in the mad rush for safety.

Fortunately for Rhonda, the two who had her in charge ignored the
instructions of their fellow to bring her before their god; but,
instead, turned and fled down the stairway before retreat was cut off
by the hungry flames licking their upward way from the pits beneath the
castle.

Fighting their way through blinding smoke, their shaggy coats at one
time seared by a sudden burst of flame, the maddened brutes forgot
their prisoner, forgot everything but their fear of the roaring flames.
Even when they won to the comparative safety of a courtyard they did
not stop, but ran on until they had swung open an outer gate and rushed
headlong from the vicinity of the castle.

Rhonda, almost equally terrified but retaining control of her wits,
took advantage of this opportunity to escape. Following the two
gorillas, she came out upon the great ledge upon which the castle
stood. The rising flames now illuminated the scene, and she saw behind
her a towering cliff, seemingly unscalable. Below her lay the city,
dark but for a few flickering torches that spotted the blackness of the
night with their feeble rays.

To her right she saw the stairway leading from the castle ledge to the
city below--the only avenue of escape that she could discern. If she
could reach the city, with its winding, narrow alleyways, she might
make her way unseen across the wall and out into the valley beyond.

The river would lead her down the valley to the brink of the escarpment
at the foot of which she knew that Orman and West and Naomi were
camped. She shuddered at the thought of descending that sheer cliff,
but she knew that she would risk much more than this to escape the
horrors of the valley of diamonds.

Running quickly along the ledge to the head of the stairway, she
started downward toward the dark city. She ran swiftly, risking a fall
in her anxiety to escape. Behind her rose the roaring and the crackling
of the flames gutting the castle of God, rose the light of the fire
casting her dancing shadow grotesquely before her, illuminating the
stairway; and then, to her horror, a horde of gorillas rushing up to
the doomed building.

She stopped, but she could not go back. There was no escape to the
right nor to the left. Her only chance lay in the possibility that they
might ignore her in their excitement. Then the leaders saw her.

"The girl!" they cried. "The hairless one! Catch her! Take her to the
king!"

Hairy hands seized her. They passed her back to those behind. "Take her
to the king!" And again she was hustled and pushed on to others behind.
"Take her to the king! Take her to the king!" And so, pulled and hauled
and dragged, she was borne down to the city and to the palace of the
king.

Once again she found herself with the shes of Henry's harem. They
cuffed her and growled at her, for most of them did not wish her back.
Catherine of Aragon was the most vindictive. She would have torn the
girl to pieces had not Catherine Parr intervened.

"Leave her alone," she warned; "or Henry will have us all beaten, and
some of us will lose our heads. All he needs is an excuse to get yours,
Catherine," she told the old queen.

At last they ceased abusing her; and, crouching in a corner, she had an
opportunity to think for the first time since she had followed Tarzan
from the tower. She thought of the man who had risked his life to
save hers. It seemed incredible that all of them had so misunderstood
Stanley Obroski. Strength and courage seemed so much a part of him now
that it was unbelievable that not one of them had ever discerned it.
She saw him now through new eyes with a vision that revealed qualities
such as women most admire in men and invoked a tenderness that brought
a sob to her throat.

Where was he now? Had he escaped? Had they recaptured him? Was he a
victim of the flames that she could see billowing from the windows of
the great castle on the ledge? Had he died for her?

Suddenly she sat up very straight, her fists clenched until her nails
bit into her flesh. A new truth had dawned upon her. This man whom
yesterday she had considered with nothing but contempt had aroused
within her bosom an emotion that she had never felt for any other man.
Was it love? Did she love Stanley Obroski?

She shook her head as though to rid herself of an obsession. No,
it could not be that. It must be gratitude and sorrow that she
felt--nothing more. Yet the thought persisted. The memory of no other
man impinged upon her thoughts in this moment of her extremity before,
exhausted by fatigue and excitement, she finally sank into restless
slumber.

And while she slept the castle on the ledge burned itself out, the
magnificent funeral pyre of those who had been trapped within it.




                                XXVIII

                        THROUGH SMOKE AND FLAME


As the terrified horde fought for safety and leaped to death from the
roof of the castle of God, the gorilla god himself scurried for a
secret stairway that led to the courtyard of the castle.

Cranmer and some of the priests knew also of this stairway; and they,
too, bolted for it. Several members of the gorilla guard, maddened by
terror, followed them; and when they saw the entrance to the stairway
fought to be the first to avail themselves of its offer of safety.

Through this fighting, screaming pack the gorilla god sought to force
his way. He was weaker than his creatures, and they elbowed him aside.
Screaming commands and curses which all ignored, he pawed and clawed in
vain endeavor to reach the entrance to the stairs; but always they beat
him back.

Suddenly terror and rage drove him mad. Foaming at the mouth, gibbering
like a maniac, he threw himself upon the back of a great bull whose
bulk barred his way. He beat the creature about the head and shoulders,
but the terrified brute paid no attention to him until he sank his
fangs deep in its neck; then with a frightful scream it turned upon
him. With its mighty paws it tore him from his hold; then, lifting him
above its head, the creature hurled him from it. The gorilla god fell
heavily to the roof and lay still, stunned.

The crazed beasts at the stairway fought and tore at one another,
jamming and wedging themselves into the entrance until they clogged it;
then those that remained outside ran toward other stairways, but now it
was too late. Smoke and flame roared from every turret and tower. They
were trapped!

By ones and twos, with awful shrieks, they hurled themselves over the
parapet, leaving the roof to the bodies of the gorilla god and his
erstwhile captive.

The flames roared up through the narrow shafts of the towers,
transforming them into giant torches, illuminating the face of the
cliff towering above, shedding weird lights and shadows on the city and
the valley. They ate through the roof at the north end of the castle,
and the liberated gases shot smoke and flame high into the night. They
gnawed through a great roof beam, and a section of the roof fell into
the fiery furnace below showering the city with sparks. Slowly they
crept toward the bodies of the ape-man and the gorilla god.

Before the castle, the Holy Stairway and the ledge were packed with the
horde that had come up from the city to watch the holocaust. They were
awed to silence. Somewhere in that grim pile was their god. They knew
nothing of immortality, for he had not taught them that. They thought
that their god was dead, and they were afraid. These were the lowly
ones. The creatures of the king rejoiced; for they envisaged the power
of the god descending upon the shoulders of their leader, conferring
more power upon themselves. They were gorillas contaminated by the
lusts and greed of men.

On the roof one of the bodies stirred. The eyes opened. It was a moment
before the light of consciousness quickened them; then the man sat up.
It was Tarzan. He leaped to his feet. All about him was the roaring and
crackling of the flames. The heat was intense, almost unbearable.

He saw the body of the gorilla god lying near him. He saw it move.
Then the creature sat up quickly and looked about. It saw Tarzan. It
saw the flames licking and leaping on all sides, dancing the dance of
death--its death.

Tarzan gave it but a single glance and walked away. That part of the
roof closest to the cliff was freest of flames, and toward the parapet
there he made his way.

The gorilla god followed him. "We are lost," he said. "Every avenue of
escape is cut off."

The ape-man shrugged and looked over the edge of the parapet down the
side of the castle wall. Twenty feet below was the roof of a section of
the building that rose only one story. It was too far to jump. Flames
were coming from the windows on that side, flames and smoke, but not in
the volumes that were pouring from the openings on the opposite side.

Tarzan tested the strength of one of the merlons of the battlemented
parapet. It was strong. The stones were set in good mortar. He uncoiled
his rope, and passed it about the merlon.

The gorilla god had followed him and was watching. "You are going to
escape!" he cried. "Oh, save me too."

"So that you can kill and eat me later?" asked the ape-man.

"No, no! I will not harm you. For God's sake save me!"

"I thought you were God. Save yourself."

"You can't desert me. I'm an Englishman. Blood is thicker than
water--you wouldn't see an Englishman die when you can save him!"

"I am an Englishman," replied the ape-man, "but you would have killed
me and eaten me into the bargain."

"Forgive me that. I was mad to regain my human form, and you offered
the only chance that I may ever have. Save me, and I will give you
wealth beyond man's wildest dreams of avarice."

"I have all I need," replied Tarzan.

"You don't know what you are talking about. I can lead you to diamonds.
Diamonds! Diamonds! You can scoop them up by the handful."

"I care nothing for your diamonds," replied the ape-man, "but I will
save you on one condition."

"What is that?"

"That you help me save the girl, if she still lives, and get her out of
this valley."

"I promise. But hurry--soon it will be too late."

Tarzan had looped the center of his rope about the merlon; the loose
ends dangled a few feet above the roof below. He saw that the rope hung
between windows where the flames could not reach it.

"I will go first," he said, "to be sure that you do not run away and
forget your promise."

"You do not trust me!" exclaimed the gorilla god.

"Of course not--you are a man."

He lowered his body over the parapet, hung by one hand, and seized both
strands of the rope in the other.

The gorilla god shuddered. "I could never do that," he cried. "I should
fall. It is awful!" He covered his eyes with his hands.

"Climb over the parapet and get on my back, then," directed the
ape-man. "Here, I will steady you." He reached up a powerful hand.

"Will the rope hold us both?"

"I don't know. Hurry, or I'll have to go without you. The heat is
getting worse."

Trembling, the gorilla god climbed over the parapet; and, steadied and
assisted by Tarzan, slid to the ape-man's back where he clung with a
deathlike grip about the bronzed neck.

Slowly and carefully Tarzan descended. He had no doubt as to the
strength of the rope on a straight pull, but feared that the rough
edges of the merlon might cut it.

The heat was terrific. Flames leaped out of the openings on each side
of them. Acrid, stifling smoke enveloped them. Where the descent at
this point had seemed reasonably safe a moment before, it was now
fraught with dangers that made the outcome of their venture appear more
than doubtful. It was as though the fire demon had discovered their
attempt to escape his clutches and had marshalled all his forces to
defeat it and add them to his list of victims.

With grim persistence Tarzan continued his slow descent. The creature
clinging to his back punctuated paroxysms of coughing and choking with
piercing screams of terror. The ape-man kept his eyes closed and tried
not to breathe in the thick smoke that enveloped them.

His lungs seemed upon the point of bursting when, to his relief, his
feet touched solid footing. Instantly he threw himself upon his face
and breathed. The rising smoke, ascending with the heat of flames, drew
fresh air along the roof on which the two lay; and they filled their
lungs with it.

Only for a moment did Tarzan lie thus; then he rolled over on his back
and pulled rapidly upon one end of the rope until the other passed
about the merlon above and fell to the roof beside him.

This lower roof on which they were was but ten feet above the level of
the ground; and, using the rope again, it was only a matter of seconds
before the two stood in comparative safety between the castle and the
towering cliff.

"Come now," said the ape-man; "we will go around to the front of the
castle and find out if the girl escaped."

"We shall have to be careful," cautioned the gorilla god. "This fire
will have attracted a crowd from the city. I have many enemies in the
palace of the king who would be glad to capture us both. Then we should
be killed and the girl lost--if she is not already dead."

"What do you suggest, then?" Tarzan was suspicious. He saw a trap, he
saw duplicity in everything conceived by the mind of man.

"The fire has not reached this low wing yet," explained the other.
"In it is the entrance to a shaft leading down to the quarters of a
faithful priest who dwells in a cave at the foot of the cliff on a
level with the city. If we can reach him we shall be safe. He will hide
us and do my bidding."

Tarzan scowled. He had the wild beast's aversion to entering an
unfamiliar enclosure, but he had overheard enough of the conversation
between the gorilla god and Cranmer to know that the former's statement
was at least partially true--his enemies in the palace might gladly
embrace an opportunity to imprison or destroy him.

"Very well," he assented; "but I am going to tie this rope around your
neck so that you may not escape me, and remind you that I still have
the knife with which I killed several of your gorillas. I and the knife
will be always near you."

The gorilla god made no reply; but he submitted to being secured, and
then led the way into the building and to a cleverly concealed trap
opening into the top of a shaft descending into darkness.

Here a ladder led downward, and Tarzan let his companion precede him
into the Stygian blackness of the shaft. They descended for a short
distance to a horizontal corridor which terminated at another vertical
shaft. These shafts and corridors alternated until the gorilla god
finally announced that they had reached the bottom of the cliff.

Here they proceeded along a corridor until a heavy wooden door blocked
their progress. The gorilla god listened intently for a moment, his
ear close to the planking of the door. Finally he raised the latch and
pushed the door silently ajar. Through the crack the ape-man saw a
rough cave lighted by a single smoky torch.

"He is not here," said the gorilla god as he pushed the door open and
entered. "He has probably gone with the others to see the fire."

Tarzan looked about the interior. He saw a smoke blackened cave, the
floor littered with dirty straw. Opposite the doorway through which
they had entered was another probably leading into the open. It was
closed with a massive wooden door. Near the door was a single small
window. Some sacks made of the skins of animals hung from pegs driven
into the walls. A large jar sitting on the floor held water.

"We shall have to await his return," said the gorilla god. "In the
meantime let us eat."

He crossed to the bags hanging on the wall and examined their contents,
finding celery, bamboo tips, fruit, and nuts. He selected what he
wished and sat down on the floor. "Help yourself," he invited with a
wave of a hand toward the sacks.

"I have eaten," said Tarzan and sat down near the gorilla god where he
could watch both him and the doorway.

His companion ate in silence for a few minutes; then he looked up at
the ape-man. "You said that you did not want diamonds." His tone was
skeptical. "Then why did you come here?"

"Not for diamonds."

The gorilla god chuckled. "My people killed some of your party as they
were about to enter the valley. On the body of one of them was a map of
this valley--the valley of diamonds. Are you surprised that I assume
that you came for the diamonds?"

"I knew nothing of the map. How could we have had a map of this valley
which, until we came, was absolutely unknown to white men?"

"You had a map."

"But who could have made it?"

"I made it."

"You! How could we have a map that you made? Have you returned to
England since you first came here?"

"No--but I made that map."

"You came here because you hated men and to escape them. It is not
reasonable that you should have made a map to invite men here, and if
you did make it how did it get to America or to England or wherever it
was that these--my people got it?" demanded Tarzan.

"I will tell you. I loved a girl. She was not interested in a poor
scientist with no financial future ahead of him. She wanted wealth and
luxuries. She wanted a rich husband.

"When I came to this valley and found the diamonds I thought of her.
I cannot say that I still loved her, but I wanted her. I should have
liked to be revenged upon her for the suffering that she had caused me.
I thought what a fine revenge it would be to get her here and keep her
here as long as she lived. I would give her wealth--more wealth than
any other creature in the world possessed; but she would be unable to
buy anything with it." He chuckled as he recalled his plan.

"So I made the map, and I wrote her a letter. I told her to tell no
one but to come here alone; so that no one else would know about our
treasure and steal it from us. I told her just what to do, where to
land, and how to form her safari. Then I waited. I have been waiting
for seventy-four years, but she has never come.

"I had gone to considerable effort to get the letter to her. It had
been necessary for me to go a long way from the valley to find a
friendly tribe of natives and employ one of them as a runner to take
my letter to the coast. I never knew whether or not the letter reached
the coast. The runner might have been killed. Many things might
have happened. I often wondered what became of the map. Now it has
come back to me--after seventy-four years." Again he chuckled. "And
brought another girl--a very much prettier girl. Mine would be--let's
see--ninety-four years old, a toothless old hag." He sighed. "But now
I suppose that I shall not have either of them."

There was a sound at the outer door. Tarzan sprang to his feet. The
door opened, and an old gorilla started to enter. At sight of the
ape-man he bared his fangs and paused.

"It is all right, Father Tobin," said the gorilla god. "Come in and
close the door."

"My Lord!" exclaimed the old gorilla as he closed the door behind him
and threw himself upon his knees. "We thought that you had perished in
the flames. Praises be to heaven that you have been spared to us."

"Blessing be upon you, my son," replied the gorilla god. "And now tell
me what has happened in the city."

"The castle is destroyed."

"Yes, I knew that; but what of the king? Does he think me dead?"

"All think so; and, may curses descend upon him, Henry is pleased. They
say that he will proclaim himself God."

"Do you know aught of the fate of the girl Wolsey rescued from Henry's
clutches and brought to my castle? Did she die in the fire?" asked the
gorilla god.

"She escaped, My Lord. I saw her."

"Where is she?" demanded Tarzan.

"The king's men recaptured her and took her to the palace."

"That will be the end of her," announced the gorilla god, "for if Henry
insists on marrying her, as he certainly will, Catherine of Aragon will
tear her to pieces."

"We must get her away from him at once," said Tarzan.

The gorilla god shrugged. "I doubt if that can be done."

"You have said that some one did it before--Wolsey I think you called
him."

"But Wolsey had a strong incentive."

"No stronger than the one you have," said the ape-man quietly, but he
jerked a little on the rope about God's neck and fingered the hilt of
his hunting knife.

"But how can I do it?" demanded the gorilla god. "Henry has many
soldiers. The people think that I am dead, and now they will be more
afraid of the king than ever."

"You have many faithful followers, haven't you?" inquired Tarzan.

"Yes."

"Then send this priest out to gather them. Tell them to meet outside
this cave with whatever weapons they can obtain."

The priest was looking in astonishment from his god to the stranger who
spoke to him with so little reverence and who held an end of the rope
tied about the god's neck. With horror, he had even seen the creature
jerk the rope.

"Go, Father Tobin," said the gorilla god, "and gather the faithful."

"And see that there is no treachery," snapped Tarzan. "I have your
god's promise to help me save that girl. You see this rope about his
neck? You see this knife at my side?"

The priest nodded.

"If you both do not do all within your power to help me your god dies."
There was no mistaking the sincerity of that statement.

"Go, Father Tobin," said the gorilla god.

"And hurry," added Tarzan.

"I go, My Lord," cried the priest; "but I hate to leave you in the
clutches of this creature."

"He will be safe enough if you do your part," Tarzan assured him.

The priest knelt again, crossed himself, and departed. As the door
closed after him, Tarzan turned to his companion. "How is it," he
asked, "that you have been able to transmit the power to speak and
perhaps to reason to these brutes, yet they have not taken on any of
the outward physical attributes of man?"

"That is due to no fault of mine," replied the gorilla god, "but rather
to an instinct of the beasts themselves more powerful than their newly
acquired reasoning faculties. Transmitting human germ cells from
generation to generation, as they now do, it is not strange that there
are often born to them children with the physical attributes of human
beings. But in spite of all that I can do these sorts have invariably
been destroyed at birth.

"In the few cases where they have been spared they have developed into
monsters that seem neither beast nor human--man-like creatures with
all the worst qualities of man and beast. Some of these have either
been driven out of the city or have escaped, and there is known to be a
tribe of them living in caves on the far side of the valley.

"I know of two instances where the mutants were absolutely perfect
in human form and figure but possessed the minds of gorillas; the
majority, however, have the appearance of grotesque hybrids.

"Of these two, one was a very beautiful girl when last I saw her but
with the temper of a savage lioness; the other was a young man with the
carriage and the countenance of an aristocrat and the sweet amiability
of a Jack the Ripper.

"And now, young man," continued the gorilla god, "when my followers
have gathered here, what do you purpose doing?"

"Led by us," replied Tarzan, "they will storm the palace of the king
and take the girl from him."




                                 XXIX

                             DEATH AT DAWN


Rhonda Terry awoke with a start. She heard shouting and growls and
screams and roars that sounded very close indeed. She saw the shes of
Henry's harem moving about restlessly. Some of them uttered low growls
like nervous, half frightened beasts; but it was not these sounds
that had awakened her--they came through the unglazed windows of the
apartment, loud, menacing.

She rose and approached a window. Catherine of Aragon saw her and bared
her fangs in a vicious snarl.

"It is she they want," growled the old queen.

From the window Rhonda saw in the light of torches a mass of hairy
forms battling to the death. She gasped and pressed a hand to her
heart, for among them she saw Stanley Obroski fighting his way toward
an entrance to the palace.

At first it seemed to her that he was fighting alone against that
horde of beasts, but presently she realized that many of them were his
allies. She saw the gorilla god close to Obroski; she even saw the
grass rope about the creature's neck. Now her only thought was of the
safety of Obroski.

Vaguely she heard voices raised about her in anger; then she became
conscious of the words of the old queen. "She has caused all this
trouble," Catherine of Aragon was saying. "If she were dead we should
have peace."

"Kill her, then," said Anne of Cleves.

"Kill her!" screamed Anne Boleyn.

The girl turned from the window to see the savage beasts advancing upon
her--great hairy brutes that could tear her to pieces. The incongruity
of their human speech and their bestial appearance seemed suddenly more
shocking and monstrous than ever before.

One of them stepped forward from her side and stood in front of her,
facing the others. It was Catherine Parr. "Leave her alone," she said.
"It is not her fault that she is here."

"Kill them both! Kill Parr too!" screamed Catherine Howard.

The others took up the refrain. "Kill them both!" The Howard leaped
upon the Parr; and with hideous growls the two sought each other's
throat with great, yellow fangs. Then the others rushed upon Rhonda
Terry.

There was no escape. They were between her and the door; the windows
were barred. Her eyes searched vainly for something with which to beat
them off, but there was nothing. She backed away from them, but all the
time she knew that there was no hope.

Then the door was suddenly thrown open, and three great bulls stepped
into the apartment. "His Majesty, the King!" cried one of them, and
the shes quieted their tongues and fell away from Rhonda. Only the two
battling on the floor did not hear.

The great bull gorilla that was Henry the Eighth rolled into the room.
"Silence!" he bellowed, and crossing to the embattled pair he kicked
and cuffed them until they desisted. "Where is the fair, hairless one?"
he demanded, and then his eyes alighted upon Rhonda where she stood
almost hidden by the great bulks of his wives.

"Come here!" he commanded. "God has come for you, but he'll never get
you. You belong to me."

"Let him have her, Henry," cried Catherine of Aragon; "she has caused
nothing but trouble."

"Silence, woman!" screamed the king; "or you'll go to the Tower and the
block."

He stepped forward and seized Rhonda, throwing her across one shoulder
as though she had no weight whatever; then he crossed quickly to the
door. "Stand in the corridor here, Suffolk and Howard, and, if God's
men reach this floor, hold them off until I have time to get safely
away."

"Let us go with you, Sire," begged one of them.

"No; remain here until you have news for me; then follow me to the
north end of the valley, to the canyon where the east branch of the
Thames rises." He turned then and hurried down the corridor.

At the far end he turned into a small room, crossed to a closet, and
raised a trap door. "They'll never follow us here, my beauty," he said.
"I got this idea from God, but he doesn't know that I made use of it."

Like a huge monkey he descended a pole that led downward into darkness,
and after they reached the bottom Rhonda became aware that they were
traversing a subterranean corridor. It was very long and very dark. The
gorilla king moved slowly, feeling his way; but at last they came out
into the open.

He had set Rhonda down upon the floor of the corridor, and she had
been aware by the noises that she heard that he was moving some heavy
object. Then she had felt the soft night air and had seen stars above
them. A moment later they stood upon the bank of a river at the foot
of a low cliff while Henry replaced a large, flat stone over the dark
entrance to the tunnel they had just quitted.

Then commenced a trek of terror for Rhonda. Following the river, they
hurried along through the night toward the upper end of the valley. The
great brute no longer carried her but dragged her along by one wrist.
He seemed nervous and fearful, occasionally stopping to sniff the air
or listen. He moved almost silently, and once or twice he cautioned her
to silence.

After a while they crossed the river toward the east where the water,
though swift, was only up to their knees; then they continued in
a northeasterly direction. There was no sound of pursuit, yet the
gorilla's nervousness increased. Presently Rhonda guessed the reason
for it--from the north came the deep throated roar of a lion.

The gorilla king growled deep in his chest and quickened his pace.
A suggestion of dawn was tinging the eastern horizon. A cold mist
enveloped the valley. Rhonda was very tired. Every muscle in her
body ached and cried out for rest, but still her captor dragged her
relentlessly onward.

Now the voice of the lion sounded again, shattering the silence of the
night, making the earth tremble. It was much closer than before--it
seemed very near. The gorilla broke into a lumbering run. Dawn was
coming. Nearby objects became visible.

Rhonda saw a lion ahead of them and a little to their left. The gorilla
king saw it too, and changed his direction toward the east and a fringe
of trees that were visible now about a hundred yards ahead of them.

The lion was approaching them at an easy, swinging walk. Now he too
changed his direction and broke into a trot with the evident intention
of heading them off before they reached the trees.

Rhonda noticed how his flat belly swung from side to side to the
motion of his gait. It is strange how such trivialities often impress
one at critical moments of extreme danger. He looked lean and hungry.
He was roaring almost continuously now as though he were attempting to
lash himself into a rage. He commenced to gallop.

Now it became obvious that they could never reach the trees ahead of
him. The gorilla paused, growling. Instantly the lion changed its
course again and came straight for them. The gorilla hesitated; then
he lifted the girl in his powerful paws and hurled her into the path
of the lion, at the same time turning and running at full speed back
in the direction from which they had come. His prize had become the
offering which he hoped would save his life.

But he reckoned without sufficient knowledge of lion psychology. Rhonda
fell face downward. She knew that the lion was only a few yards away
and coming toward her, that she could not escape him; but she recalled
her other experience with a lion, and so she lay very still. After she
fell she did not move a muscle.

It is the running creature that attracts the beast of prey. You have
seen that exemplified by your own dog, which is a descendant of beasts
of prey. Whatever runs he must chase. He cannot help it. Provided it
is running away from him he has to chase it because he is the helpless
pawn of a natural law a million years older than the first dog.

If Henry the Eighth had ever known this he must have forgotten it;
otherwise he would have made the girl run while he lay down and
remained very quiet. But he did not, and the inevitable happened. The
lion ignored the still figure of the girl and pursued the fleeing
gorilla.

Rhonda felt the lion pass swiftly, close to her; then she raised her
head and looked. The gorilla was moving much more swiftly than she
had guessed possible but not swiftly enough. In a moment the lion
would overhaul it. They would be some distance from Rhonda when this
happened, and the lion would certainly be occupied for a few moments
with the killing of its prey. It seemed incredible that the huge ape,
armed as it was with powerful jaws and mighty fighting fangs, would
not fight savagely for self-preservation.

The girl leaped to her feet, and without a backward glance raced for
the trees. She had covered but a few yards when she heard terrific
roars and growls and screams that told her that the lion had overtaken
the gorilla and that the two beasts were already tearing at one
another. As long as these sounds lasted she knew that her flight would
not be noticed by the lion.

When, breathless, she reached the trees she stopped and looked back.
The lion was dragging the gorilla down, the great jaws closed upon its
head, there was a vicious shake; and the ape went limp. Thus died Henry
the Eighth.

The carnivore did not even look back in her direction but immediately
crouched upon the body of its kill and commenced to feed. He was very
hungry.

The girl slipped silently into the wood. A few steps brought her to the
bank of a river. It was the east fork of the Thames, the wood a fringe
of trees on either side. Thinking to throw the lion off her trail
should it decide to follow her, as well as to put the barrier of the
river between them, she entered it and swam to the opposite shore.

Now, for the first time in many a long day, she was inspired by hope.
She was free! Also, she knew where her friends were; and that by
following the river down to the escarpment that formed the Omwamwi
Falls she could find them. What dangers beset her path she did not
know, but it seemed that they must be trivial by comparison with those
she had already escaped. The trees that lined the river bank would give
her concealment and protection, and before the day was over she would
be at the escarpment. How she was to descend it she would leave until
faced by the necessity.

She was tired, but she did not stop to rest--there could be no rest
for her until she had found safety. Following the river, she moved
southward. The sun had risen above the mountains that hemmed the valley
on the east. Her body was grateful for the warmth that dispelled the
cold night mists.

Presently the river turned in a great loop toward the east, and
though she knew that following the meanderings of the river would
greatly increase the distance that she must travel there was no
alternative--she did not dare leave the comparative safety of the wood
nor abandon this unfailing guide that would lead her surely to her
destination.

On and on she plodded in what approximated a lethargy of fatigue,
dragging one foot painfully after another. Her physical exhaustion was
reflected in her reactions. They were dull and slow. Her senses were
less acute. She either failed to hear unusual sounds or to interpret
them as subjects worthy of careful investigation. It was this that
brought disaster.

When she became aware of danger it was too late. A hideous creature,
half man, half gorilla, dropped from a tree directly in her path. It
had the face of a man, the ears and body of an ape.

The girl turned to run toward the river, thinking to plunge in and
escape by swimming; but as she turned another fearsome thing dropped
from the trees to confront her; then, growling and snarling, the two
leaped forward and seized her. Each grasped her by an arm, and one
pulled in one direction while the other pulled in the opposite. They
screamed and gibbered at one another.

She thought that they must wrench her arms from their sockets. She
had given up hope when a naked white man dropped from an overhanging
branch. He carried a club in his hand, and with it he belabored first
one and then the other of her assailants until they relinquished their
holds upon her. But to her horror she saw that her rescuer gibbered and
roared just as the others had.

Now the man seized her and stood snarling like a wild beast as a score
of terrible beast-men swung from the trees and surrounded them. The man
who held her was handsome and well formed; his skin was tanned to a
rich bronze; a head of heavy blond hair fell about his shoulders like
the mane of a lion.

The creatures that surrounded them were hybrids of all degrees of
repulsiveness; yet he seemed one of them, for he made the same noises
that they made. Also, it was evident that he had been in the trees with
them. The others seemed to stand a little in awe of him or of his club;
for, while they evidently wanted to come and lay hands upon the girl,
they kept their distance, out of range of the man's weapon.

The man started to move away with his captive, to withdraw her from
the circle surrounding them; then, above the scolding of the others, a
savage scream sounded from the foliage overhead.

The man and the beasts glanced nervously aloft. Rhonda let her eyes
follow the direction in which they were looking. Involuntarily she
voiced a gasp of astonishment at what she beheld. Swinging downward
toward them with the speed and agility of a monkey was a naked white
girl, her golden hair streaming out behind her. From between her
perfect lips issued the horrid screams of a beast.

As she touched the ground she ran toward them. Her face, even though
reflecting savage rage, was beautiful; her youthful body was flawless
in its perfection. But her disposition was evidently something else.

As she approached, the beasts surrounding Rhonda and the man edged
away, making a path for her, though they growled and bared their teeth
at her. She paid no attention to them, but came straight for Rhonda.

The man screamed at her, backing away; then he whirled Rhonda to a
shoulder, turned, and bolted. Even burdened with the weight of his
captive he ran with great speed. Behind him, raging and screaming, the
beautiful she-devil pursued.




                                  XXX

                             THE WILD-GIRL


The palace guard gave way before the multitude of faithful that
battered at the doors of the king's house at the behest of their god.
The god was pleased. He wished to punish Henry, but he had never
before quite dared to assault the palace. Now he was victorious; and
in victory one is often generous, especially to him who made victory
possible.

Previously he had fully intended to break his promise to Tarzan and
revenge himself for the affront that had been put upon his godhood, but
now he was determined to set both the man and the girl free.

Tarzan cared nothing for the political aspects of the night's
adventure. He thought only of Rhonda. "We must find the girl," he said
to the gorilla god the moment that they had gained entrance to the
palace. "Where could she be?"

"She is probably with the other women. Come with me--they are upstairs."

At the top of the stairs stood Howard and Suffolk to do the bidding
of their king; but when they saw their god ascending toward them and
the lower hall and the stairs behind him filled with his followers and
recalled that the king had fled, they experienced a change of heart.
They received God on bended knee and assured him that they had driven
Henry out of the palace and were just on their way downstairs to fall
tooth and nail upon God's enemies; and God knew that they lied, for
it was he himself who had implanted the minds of men in their gorilla
skulls.

"Where is the hairless she?" demanded the gorilla god.

"Henry took her with him," replied Suffolk.

"Where did he go?"

"I do not know. He ran to the end of the corridor and disappeared."

"Some one must know," snapped Tarzan.

"Perhaps Catherine of Aragon knows," suggested Howard.

"Where is she?" demanded the ape-man.

They led the way to the door of the harem. Suffolk swung the door open.
"My Lord God!" he announced.

The shes, nervous and frightened, had been expecting to be dragged to
their death by the mob. When they saw the gorilla god they fell on
their faces before him.

"Have mercy, My Lord God!" cried Catherine of Aragon. "I am your
faithful servant."

"Then tell me where Henry is," demanded the god.

"He fled with the hairless she," replied the old queen.

"Where?"

The rage of a jealous female showed Catherine of Aragon how to have her
revenge. "Come with me," she said.

They followed her down the corridor to the room at the end and into
the closet there. Then she lifted the trap door. "This shaft leads to
a tunnel that runs under the city to the bank of the river beyond the
wall--he and that hairless thing went this way."

The keen scent of the ape-man detected the delicate aroma of the
white girl. He knew that the king gorilla had carried her into this
dark hole. Perhaps they were down there now, the king hiding from his
enemies until it would be safe for him to return; or perhaps there
was a tunnel running beyond the city as the old she had said, and the
gorilla had carried his captive off to some fastness in the mountains
surrounding the valley.

But in any event the ape-man must go on now alone--he could trust none
of the creatures about him to aid him in the pursuit and capture of
one of their own kind. He had already removed his rope from around the
neck of the gorilla god; now it lay coiled across one shoulder; at his
hip swung his hunting knife. Tarzan of the Apes was prepared for any
emergency.

Without a word, he swung down the pole into the black abyss below. The
gorilla god breathed a sigh of relief when he had departed.

Following the scent spoor of those he sought, Tarzan traversed the
tunnel that led from the bottom of the shaft to the river bank. He
pushed the great stone away from the entrance and stepped out into
the night. He stood erect, listening and sniffing the air. A scarcely
perceptible air current was moving up toward the head of the valley.
It bore no suspicion of the scent he had been following. All that
this indicated was that his quarry was not directly south of him. The
gorilla king might have gone to the east or the west or the north; but
the river flowed deep and swift on the east, and only the north and
west were left.

Tarzan bent close to the ground. Partly by scent, partly by touch he
found the trail leading toward the north; or, more accurately, toward
the northeast between the river and the cliffs. He moved off upon it;
but the necessity for stopping often to verify the trail delayed him,
so that he did not move quite as rapidly as the beast he pursued.

He was delayed again at the crossing of the river, for he passed the
place at which the trail turned sharply to the right into the stream.
He had to retrace his steps, searching carefully until he found it
again. Had the wind been right, had the gorilla been moving directly
upwind, Tarzan could have trailed him at a run.

The enforced delays caused no irritation or nervousness such as they
would have in an ordinary man, for the patience of the hunting beast is
infinite. Tarzan knew that eventually he would overhaul his quarry, and
that while they were on the move the girl was comparatively safe.

Dawn broke as he crossed the river. Far ahead he heard the roaring
of a hunting lion, and presently with it were mingled the snarls and
screams of another beast--a gorilla. And the ape-man knew that Numa
had attacked one of the great apes. He guessed that it was the gorilla
king. But what of the girl? He heard no human voice mingling its
screams with that of the anthropoid. He broke into a run.

Presently, from a little rise of rolling ground, he saw Numa crouching
upon his kill. It was light enough now for him to see that the lion was
feeding upon the body of a gorilla. The girl was nowhere in sight.

Tarzan made a detour to avoid the feeding carnivore. He had no
intention of risking an encounter with the king of beasts--an encounter
that would certainly delay him and possibly end in death.

He passed at a considerable distance upwind from the lion; and when the
beast caught his scent it turned its head in his direction and growled,
but it did not rise from its kill.

Beyond the lion, near the edge of the wood, Tarzan picked up the trail
of the girl again. He followed it across the second river. It turned
south here, upwind; and now he was below her and could follow her scent
spoor easily. At a trot he pressed on.

Now other scent spoor impinged upon his nostrils, mingling with those
of the girl. They were strange scents--a mixture of mangani and
tarmangani, of great ape and white man, of male and of female.

Tarzan increased his gait. That strange instinct that he shared with
the other beasts of the forest warned him that danger lay ahead--danger
for the girl and perhaps for himself. He moved swiftly and silently
through the fringe of forest that bordered the river.

The strange scents became stronger in his nostrils. A babel of angry
voices arose in the distance ahead. He was nearing them. He took to
the trees now, to his native element; and he felt at once the sense
of security and power that the trees always imparted to him. Here,
as nowhere else quite in the same measure, was he indeed lord of the
jungle.

Now he heard the angry, raging voice of a female. It was almost human,
yet the beast notes predominated; and he could recognize words spoken
in the language of the great apes. Tarzan was mystified.

He was almost upon them now, and a moment later he looked down upon a
strange scene. There were a score of monstrous creatures--part human,
part gorilla. And there was a naked white man just disappearing among
the trees with the girl he sought across one shoulder. Pursing them
was a white girl with golden hair streaming behind her. She was as
naked as the other beasts gibbering and screaming in her wake.

The man bearing Rhonda Terry ran swiftly, gaining upon the golden
haired devil behind him. They both out-stripped the other creatures
that had started in pursuit, and presently these desisted and gave up
the chase.

Tarzan, swinging through the trees, gained slowly on the strange pair;
and so engrossed were they in the business of escape and pursuit that
they did not glance up and discover him.

Now the ape-man caught up with the running girl and passed her. Her
burst of speed had taken toll of her strength, and she was slowing
down. The man had gained on her, too; and now considerable distance
separated them.

Through the trees ahead of him Tarzan saw a stretch of open ground,
beyond which rose rocky cliffs; then the forest ended. Swinging down to
earth, he continued the pursuit; but he had lost a little distance now,
and though he started to gain gradually on the fleeing man, he realized
that the other would reach the cliffs ahead of him. He could hear the
pursuing girl panting a short distance behind him.

Since he had first seen the naked man and woman and the grotesque
monsters that they had left behind in the forest, Tarzan had recalled
the story that the gorilla god had told him of the mutants that had
escaped destruction and formed a tribe upon this side of the valley.
These, then, were the terrible fruits of the old biologist's profane
experiment--children of the unnatural union of nature and science.

It was only the passing consciousness of a fact to which the ape-man
now had no time to give thought. His every faculty was bent upon the
effort of the moment--the overtaking of the man who carried Rhonda
Terry. Tarzan marvelled at the man's speed burdened as he was by the
weight of his captive.

The cliffs were only a short distance ahead of him now. At their
base were piled a tumbled mass of fragments that had fallen from
above during times past. The cliffs themselves presented a series of
irregular, broken ledges; and their face was pitted with the mouths of
innumerable caves.

As the man reached the rubble at the foot of the cliffs, he leaped from
rock to rock like a human chamois; and after him came the ape-man, but
slower; for he was unaccustomed to such terrain--and behind him, the
savage she.

Clambering from ledge to ledge the creature bore Rhonda Terry aloft;
and Tarzan followed, and the golden haired girl came after. Far up the
cliff face the man pushed Rhonda roughly into a cave mouth and turned
to face his pursuer.

Tarzan of the Apes turned abruptly to the right then and ran along a
narrow ascending ledge with the intention of gaining the ledge upon
which the other stood without having to ascend directly into the face
of his antagonist. The man guessed his purpose and started along his
own ledge to circumvent him. Below them the girl was clambering upward.

"Go back!" shouted the man in the language of the great apes. "Go back!
I kill!"

"Rhonda!" called the ape-man.

The girl crawled from the cave out onto the ledge. "Stanley!" she cried
in astonishment.

"Climb up the cliff," Tarzan directed. "You can follow the ledges up.
I can keep him occupied until you get to the top. Then go south toward
the lower end of the valley."

"I'll try," she replied and started to climb from ledge to ledge.

The girl ascending from below saw her and shouted to the man.
"Kreeg-ah!" she screamed. "The she is escaping!"

Now the man turned away from Tarzan and started in pursuit of Rhonda;
and the ape-man, instead of following directly after him, clambered to
a higher ledge, moving diagonally in the direction of the American girl.

Rhonda, spurred on by terror, was climbing much more rapidly than
she herself could have conceived possible. The narrow ledges, the
precarious footing would have appalled her at any other time; but now
she ignored all danger and thought only of reaching the summit of the
cliff before the strange white man overtook her.

And so it was that by a combination of her speed and Tarzan's strategy
the ape-man was able to head off her pursuer before he overtook her.

When the man realized that he had been intercepted he turned upon
Tarzan with a savage, snarling growl, his handsome face transformed
into that of a wild beast.

The ledge was narrow. It was obvious to Tarzan that the two could not
do battle upon it without falling; and while at this point there was
another ledge only a few feet below, it could only momentarily stay
their descent--while they fought they must roll from ledge to ledge
until one or both of them were badly injured or killed.

A quick glance showed him that the wild-girl was ascending toward
them. Below and beyond her appeared a number of the grotesque hybrids
that had again taken up the chase. Even if the ape-man were the one to
survive the duel, all these creatures might easily be upon him before
it was concluded.

Reason dictated that he should attempt to avoid so useless an encounter
in which he would presumably lose his life either in victory or defeat.
These observations and deductions registered upon his brain with the
speed of a camera shutter flashing one exposure rapidly after another.
Then the decision was taken from him--the man-beast charged. With a
bestial roar he charged.

The girl, ascending, screamed savage encouragement; the horrid mutants
gibbered and shrieked. Above them all, Rhonda turned at the savage
sounds and looked down. With parted lips, her hand pressed to her
heart, she watched with dismay and horror.

Crouching, Tarzan met the charge. The man-beast fought without
science but with great strength and ferocity. Whatever thin veneer of
civilization his contacts with men had imparted to the ape-man vanished
now. Here was a beast meeting a beast.

A low growl rumbled from the throat of the lord of the jungle,
snarling-muscles drew back his lip to expose strong, white teeth, the
primitive weapons of the first man.

Like charging bulls they came together, and like mad panthers each
sought the other's throat. Locked in feral embrace they swayed a moment
upon the ledge; then they toppled over the brink.

At that moment Rhonda Terry surrendered the last vestige of hope. She
had ascended the cliff to a point beyond which she could discover no
foothold for further progress. The man whom she believed to be Stanley
Obroski, whose newly discovered valor had become the sole support of
whatever hope of escape she might have entertained, was already as good
as dead; for if the fall did not kill him the creatures swarming up
the cliff toward him would. Yet self-pity was submerged in the grief
she felt for the fate of the man. Her original feeling of contempt
for him had changed to one of admiration, and this had grown into an
emotion that she could scarcely have analyzed herself. It was something
stronger than friendship; perhaps it was love. She did not want to see
him die; yet, fascinated, her eyes clung to the scene below.

But Tarzan had no mind to die now. In ferocity, in strength, he was
equal to his antagonist; in courage and intellect, he was his superior.
It was by his own intelligent effort that the two had so quickly
plunged from the ledge to another a few feet below; and as he had
directed the fall, so he directed the manner of their alighting. The
man-beast was underneath; Tarzan was on top.

The former struck upon the back of his head, as Tarzan had intended
that he should; and one of the ape-man's knees was at his stomach; so
not only was he stunned into insensibility, but the wind was knocked
out of him. He would not fight again for some considerable time.

Scarcely had they struck the lower ledge than Tarzan was upon his feet.
He saw the monsters scrambling quickly toward him; he saw the wild-girl
already reaching out to clutch him, and in the instant his plan was
formed.

The girl was on the ledge below, reaching for one of his ankles to
drag him down. He stooped quickly and seized her by the hair; then he
swung her, shrieking and screaming, to his shoulder.

She kicked and scratched and tried to bite him; but he held her until
he had carried her to a higher ledge; then he threw her down and made
his rope fast about her body. She fought viciously, but her strength
was no match for that of the ape-man.

The creatures scaling the cliff were almost upon them by the time that
Tarzan had made the rope secure; then he ran nimbly upward from ledge
to ledge dragging the girl after him; and in this way he was out of her
reach, and she could not hinder him.

The highest ledge, that from which Rhonda watched wide-eyed the
changing scenes of the drama being enacted below her, was quite the
widest of all. Opening on to it was the mouth of a cave. Above it the
cliff rose, unscalable, to the summit.

To this ledge Tarzan dragged the now strangely silent wild-girl; and
here he and Rhonda were cornered, their backs against a wall, with no
avenue of escape in any direction.

The girl clambered the last few feet to the ledge; and when she stood
erect, facing Tarzan, she no longer fought. The savage snarl had left
her face. She smiled into the eyes of the ape-man, and she was very
beautiful; but the man's attention was now upon the snarling pack, the
leaders of which were mounting rapidly toward this last ledge.

"Go back," shouted Tarzan, "or I kill your she!"

This was the plan that he had conceived to hold them off, using the
girl as a hostage. It was a good plan; but, like many another good
plan, it failed to function properly.

"They will not stop," said the girl. "They do not care if you kill
me. You have taken me. I belong to you. They will kill us all and eat
us--if they can. Throw rocks down on them; drive them back; then I will
show you how we can get away from them."

Following her own advice, she picked up a bit of loose rock and hurled
it at the nearest of the creatures. It struck him on the head, and he
tumbled backward to a lower ledge. The girl laughed and screamed taunts
and insults at her former companions.

Tarzan, realizing the efficacy of this mode of defense, gathered
fragments of rock and threw them at the approaching monsters; then
Rhonda joined in the barrage, and the three rained down a hail of
missiles that drove their enemies to the shelter of the caves below.

"They won't eat us for a while," laughed the girl.

"You eat human flesh?" asked Tarzan.

"Not Malb'yat nor I," she replied; "but they do--they eat anything."

"Who is Malb'yat?"

"My he--you fought with him and took me from him. Now I am yours. I
will fight for you. No one else shall have you!" She turned upon Rhonda
with a snarl, and would have attacked her had not Tarzan seized her.

"Leave her alone," he warned.

"You shall have no other she but me," said the wild-girl.

"She is not mine," explained the ape-man; "you must not harm her."

The girl continued to scowl at Rhonda, but she quit her efforts to
reach her. "I shall watch," she said. "What is her name?"

"Rhonda."

"And what is yours?" she demanded.

"You may call me Stanley," said Tarzan. He was amused, but not at all
disconcerted, by the strange turn events had taken. He realized that
their only chance of escape might be through this strange, beautiful,
little savage, and he could not afford to antagonize her.

"Stanley," she repeated, stumbling a little over the strange word. "My
name is Balza."

Tarzan thought that it fitted her well, for in the language of the
great apes it meant golden girl. Ape names are always descriptive. His
own meant white skin. Malb'yat was yellow head.

Balza stooped quickly and picked up a rock which she hurled at a head
that had been cautiously poked from a cave mouth below them. She scored
another hit and laughed gaily.

"We will keep them away until night," she said; "then we will go. They
will not follow us at night. They are afraid of the dark. If we went
now they would follow us, and there are so many of them that we should
all be killed."

The girl interested Tarzan. Remembering what the gorilla god had told
him of these mutants, he had assumed that her perfect human body was
dominated by the brain of a gorilla; but he had not failed to note that
she had repeated the name he had given her--something no gorilla could
have done.

"Do you speak English?" he asked in that language.

She looked at him in surprise. "Yes," she replied; "but I didn't
imagine that you did."

"Where did you learn it?" he asked.

"In London--before they drove me out."

"Why did they drive you out?"

"Because I was not like them. My mother kept me hidden for years, but
at last they found me out. They would have killed me had I remained."

"And Malb'yat is like you?"

"No, Malb'yat is like the others. He cannot learn a single English
word. I like you much better. I hope that you killed Malb'yat."

"I didn't, though," said the ape-man. "I see him moving on the ledge
down there where he has been lying."

The girl looked; then she picked up a rock and flung it at the
unfortunate Malb'yat. It missed him, and he crawled to shelter. "If he
gets me back he'll beat me," she remarked.

"I should think he'd kill you," said Tarzan.

"No--there is no one else like me. The others are ugly--I am beautiful.
No, he will never kill me, but the shes would all like to." She laughed
gaily. "I suppose this one would like to kill me." She nodded toward
Rhonda.

The American girl had been a surprised and interested listener to that
part of the conversation that had been carried on in English, but she
had not spoken.

"I do not want to kill you," she said. "There is no reason why we
should not be friends."

Balza looked at her in surprise; then she studied her carefully.

"Is she speaking the truth?" she asked Tarzan.

The ape-man nodded. "Yes."

"Then we are friends," said Balza to Rhonda. Her decisions in matters
of love, friendship, or murder were equally impulsive.

For hours the three kept vigil upon the ledge, but only occasionally
was it necessary to remind the monsters below them to keep their
distance.




                                 XXXI

                               DIAMONDS!


At last the long day drew to a close. All were hungry and thirsty. All
were anxious to leave the hard, uncomfortable ledge where they had been
exposed to the hot African sun since morning.

Tarzan and Rhonda had been entertained and amused by the savage little
wild-girl. She was wholly unspoiled and without inhibitions of any
nature. She said or did whatever she wished to say or do with a total
lack of self-consciousness that was disarming and, often, not a little
embarrassing.

As the sun was dropping behind the western hills across the valley,
she rose to her feet. "Come," she said; "we can go now. They will not
follow, for it will soon be night."

She led the way into the interior of the cave that opened upon the
ledge. The cave was narrow but quite straight. The girl led them to the
back of the cave to the bottom of a natural chimney formed by a cleft
in the rocky hill. The twilight sky was visible above them, the light
revealing the rough surface of the interior of the chimney to its top a
few yards up.

Tarzan took in the situation at a glance. He saw that by bracing their
backs against one side of the chimney, their feet against the other,
they could work themselves to the top; but he also realized that the
rough surface would scratch and tear the flesh of the girls' backs.

"I'll go first," he said. "Wait here, and I'll drop a rope for you.
It's strange, Balza, that your people didn't come to the cliff top and
get us from above--they could have come down this chimney and taken us
by surprise."

"They are too stupid," replied the girl. "They have brains enough only
to follow us; they would never think of going around us and heading us
off."

"Which is fortunate for us and some of them," remarked the ape-man as
he started the ascent of the chimney.

Reaching the top, he lowered his rope and raised the two girls easily
to his side, where they found themselves in a small, bowl shaped gully
the floor of which was covered with rough, crystallized pebbles that
gave back the light of the dying day, transforming the gully into a
well of soft luminance.

The moment that her eyes fell upon the scene, Rhonda voiced an
exclamation of surprised incredulity. "Diamonds!" she gasped. "The
valley of diamonds!"

She stooped and gathered some of the precious stones in her hands.
Balza looked at her in surprise; the gems meant nothing to her. Tarzan,
more sophisticated, gathered several of the larger specimens.

"May I take some with me?" asked Rhonda.

"Why not?" inquired the ape-man. "Take what you can carry comfortably."

"We shall all be rich!" exclaimed the American girl. "We can bring the
whole company here and take truck loads of these stones back with
us--why there must be tons of them here!"

"And then do you know what will happen?" asked Tarzan.

"Yes," she replied. "I shall have a villa on the Riviera, a town house
in Beverly Hills, a hundred and fifty thousand dollar cottage at
Malibu, a place at Palm Beach, a penthouse in New York, a--"

"You will have no more than you have always had," the ape-man
interrupted, "for if you took all these diamonds back to civilization
the market would be glutted; and diamonds would be as cheap as
glass. If you are wise, you will take just a few for yourself and
your friends; and then tell nobody how they may reach the valley of
diamonds."

Rhonda pondered this for a moment. "You are right," she admitted. "From
this moment, as far as I am concerned, there is no valley of diamonds."

During the brief twilight Balza guided them to a trail that led down
into the valley some distance below the cave dwellings of the tribe
of mutants, and all during the night they moved southward toward the
escarpment and Omwamwi Falls.

The way was new to all of them, for Balza had never been far south of
the cave village; and this, combined with the darkness, retarded them,
so that it was almost dawn when they reached the escarpment.

For much of the way Tarzan carried Rhonda who was almost exhausted
by all that she had passed through, and only thus were they able
to progress at all. But Balza was tireless, moving silently in the
footsteps of her man, as she now considered Tarzan. She did not speak,
for experience and instinct both had trained her to the necessity for
stealth if one would pass through savage nights alive. Every sense must
be alert, concentrated upon the business of self-preservation. But
who may know what passed in that savage little brain as the beautiful
creature followed her new lord and master out into a strange world?

In the early dawn the scene from the top of the escarpment looked
weird and forbidding to Rhonda Terry. The base was mist hidden. Only
the roar of the falls, rising sepulchral, like the voices of ghostly
Titans from the tomb, belied the suggestion of bottomless depth. She
seemed to be gazing down into another world, a world she would never
reach alive.

Strong in her memory was that other experience when the giant gorilla
had carried her up this dizzy height. She knew that she could never
descend it safely alone. She knew that Stanley Obroski could not
carry her down. She had learned that he could do many things with the
possibility of which none might ever have credited him a few weeks
before, but here was something that no man might do. She even doubted
his ability to descend alone.

Even as these thoughts passed quickly through her mind the man swung
her across one broad shoulder and started the descent. Rhonda gasped,
but she clenched her teeth and made no outcry. Seemingly with all the
strength of the bull gorilla and with far greater agility he swung down
into the terrifying abyss, finding foothold and hand hold with unerring
accuracy; and after him came Balza, the wild-girl, as sure of herself
as any monkey.

And at last the impossible was achieved--the three stood safely at the
foot of the escarpment. The sun had risen, and before it the mist was
disappearing. New hope rose in the breast of the American girl, and new
strength animated her body.

"Let me down, Stanley," she said. "I am sure I can walk all right now.
I feel stronger."

He lowered her to the ground. "It is not a great way to the camp where
I left Orman and the others," he said.

Rhonda glanced at Balza and cleared her throat. "Of course we're all
from Hollywood," she said, "but don't you think we ought to rig some
sort of skirt for Balza before we take her into camp?"

Tarzan laughed. "Poor Balza," he said; "she will have to eat of the
apple soon enough now that she is coming into contact with civilized
man. Let her keep her naturalness and her purity of mind as long as she
may."

"But I was thinking of her," remonstrated Rhonda.

"She won't be embarrassed," Tarzan assured her. "A skirt would probably
embarrass her far more."

Rhonda shrugged. "O.K." she said. "And Tom and Bill forgot how to blush
years ago, anyway."

They had proceeded but a short distance down the river when Tarzan
stopped and pointed. "There is where they were camped," he said, "but
they are gone."

"What could have happened to them? Weren't they going to wait for you?"

The ape-man stood listening and sniffing the air. "They are farther
down the river," he announced presently, "and they are not alone--there
are many with them."

They continued on for over a mile when they suddenly came in sight of a
large camp. There were many tents and motor trucks.

"The safari!" exclaimed Rhonda. "Pat got through!"

As they approached the camp some one saw them and commenced to shout;
then there was a stampede to meet them. Everyone kissed Rhonda, and
Naomi Madison kissed Tarzan; whereat, with a growl, Balza leaped for
her. The ape-man caught the wild-girl around the waist and held her,
while Naomi shrank back, terrified.

"Hands off Stanley," warned Rhonda with a laugh. "The young lady has
annexed him."

Tarzan took Balza by the shoulders and wheeled her about until she
faced him. "These are my people," he said. "Their ways are not as your
ways. If you quarrel with them I shall send you away. These shes are
your friends."

Every one was staring at Balza with open admiration, Orman with the
eye of a director discovering a type, Pat O'Grady with the eye of an
assistant director--which is something else again.

"Balza," continued the ape-man, "go with these shes. Do as they tell
you. They will cover your beautiful body with uncomfortable clothing,
but you will have to wear it. In a month you will be smoking
cigarettes and drinking high balls; then you will be civilized. Now you
are only a barbarian. Go with them and be unhappy."

Every one laughed except Balza. She did not know what it was all about;
but her god had spoken, and she obeyed. She went with Rhonda and Naomi
to their tent.

Tarzan talked with Orman, Bill West, and O'Grady. They all thought that
he was Stanley Obroski, and he did not attempt to undeceive them. They
told him that Bill West had spent half the previous night trying to
scale the escarpment. He had ascended far enough to see the camp fires
of the safari and the headlights of some of the trucks; then, forced to
abandon his attempt to reach the summit, he had returned and led the
others to the main camp.

Orman was now enthusiastic to go ahead with the picture. He had his
star back again, his leading woman, and practically all the other
important members of his cast. He decided to play the heavy himself and
cast Pat O'Grady in Major White's part, and he had already created a
part for Balza. "She'll knock 'em cold," he prophesied.




                                 XXXII

                           GOOD-BYE, AFRICA!


For two weeks Orman shot scene after scene against the gorgeous
background of the splendid river and the magnificent falls. Tarzan
departed for two days and returned with a tribe of friendly natives
to replace those that had deserted. He led the cameramen to lions, to
elephants, to every form of wild life that the district afforded; and
all marvelled at the knowledge, the power, and the courage of Stanley
Obroski.

Then came a sad blow. A runner arrived bringing a cablegram to Orman.
It was from the studio; and it ordered him to return at once to
Hollywood, bringing the company and equipment with him.

Every one except Orman was delighted. "Hollywood!" exclaimed Naomi
Madison. "Oh, Stanley, just think of it! Aren't you crazy to get to
Hollywood?"

"Perhaps that's the right word," he mused.

The company danced and sang like children watching the school house
burn, and Tarzan watched them and wondered. He wondered what this
Hollywood was like that it held such an appeal to these men and women.
He thought that some day he might go and see for himself.

Over broken trails the return journey was made with ease and speed.
Tarzan accompanied the safari through the Bansuto country, assuring
them that they would have no trouble. "I arranged that with Rungula
before I left his village," he explained.

Then he left them, saying that he was going on ahead to Jinja. He
hastened to the village of Mpugu, where he had left Obroski, Mpugu met
him with a long face. "White bwana die seven days ago," announced the
chief. "We take his body to Jinja so that the white men know that we
did not kill him."

Tarzan whistled. It was too bad, but there was nothing to do about it.
He had done the best that he could for Obroski.

Two days later the lord of the jungle and Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion,
stood on a low eminence and watched the long caravan of trucks wind
toward Jinja.

In command of the rear guard walked Pat O'Grady. At his side was Balza.
Each had an arm about the other, and Balza puffed on a cigarette.




                                XXXIII

                           HELLO, HOLLYWOOD!


A year had passed.

A tall, bronzed man alighted from The Chief in the railroad station at
Los Angeles. The easy, majestic grace of his carriage; his tread, at
once silent and bold; his flowing muscles; the dignity of his mien; all
suggested the leonine, as though he were, indeed, a personification of
Numa, the lion.

A great throng of people crowded about the train. A cordon of good
natured policemen held them back, keeping an aisle clear for the
alighting passengers and for the great celebrity that all awaited with
such eagerness.

Cameras clicked and whirred for local papers, for news syndicates, for
news reels; eager reporters, special correspondents, and sob-sisters
pressed forward.

At last the crowd glimpsed the celebrity, and a great roar of welcome
billowed into the microphones strategically placed by Freeman Lang.

A slip of a girl with green hair had alighted from The Chief; her
publicity agent preceded her, while directly behind her were her three
secretaries, who were followed by a maid leading a gorilla.

Instantly she was engulfed by the reporters. Freeman forced his way to
her side. "Won't you say just a word to all your friends of the air?"
he asked, taking her by the arm. "Right over here, please, dear."

She stepped to the microphone. "Hello, everybody! I wish you were all
here. It's simply mahvellous. I'm so happy to be back in Hollywood."

Freeman Lang took the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced,
"you have just heard the voice of the most beautiful and most popular
little lady in motion pictures today. You should see the crowds down
here at the station to welcome her back to Hollywood. I've seen lots
of these home-comings, but honestly folks I never saw anything like
this before--all Los Angeles has turned out to greet B.O.'s beautiful
star--the glorious Balza."

There was a suspicion of a smile in the eyes of the bronzed stranger as
he succeeded at last in making his way through the crowd to the street,
where he hailed a taxi and asked to be driven to a hotel in Hollywood.

As he was registering at The Roosevelt, a young man leaning against the
desk covertly noted his entry, John Clayton, London; and as Clayton
followed the bell boy toward the elevator, the young man watched him,
noting the tall figure, the broad shoulders, and the free, yet cat-like
stride.

From the windows of his room Clayton looked down upon Hollywood
Boulevard, upon the interminable cars gliding noiselessly east and
west. He caught glimpses of tiny trees and little patches of lawn where
the encroachment of shops had not obliterated them, and he sighed.

He saw many people riding in cars or walking on the cement sidewalks
and the suggestion of innumerable people in the crowded, close built
shops and residences; and he felt more alone than he ever had before in
all his life.

The confining walls of the hotel room oppressed him; and he took the
elevator to the lobby, thinking to go into the hills that he had seen
billowing so close, to the north.

In the lobby a young man accosted him. "Aren't you Mr. Clayton?" he
asked.

Clayton eyed the stranger closely for a moment before he replied. "Yes,
but I do not know you."

"You have probably forgotten, but I met you in London."

Clayton shook his head. "I never forget."

The young man shrugged and smiled. "Pardon me, but nevertheless I
recognized you. Here on business?" He was unembarrassed and unabashed.

"Merely to see Hollywood," replied Clayton. "I have heard so much about
it that I wished to see it."

"Got a lot of friends here, I suppose."

"No one knows me here."

"Perhaps I can be of service to you," suggested the young man. "I am an
old timer here--been here two years. Nothing to do--glad to show you
around. My name is Reece."

Clayton considered for a moment. He had come to see Hollywood. A guide
might be helpful. Why not this young man as well as some one else? "It
is kind of you," he said.

"Well, then, how about a little lunch? I suppose you would like to see
some of the motion picture celebrities--they all do."

"Naturally!" admitted Clayton. "They are the most interesting denizens
of Hollywood."

"Very well! We'll go to the Brown Derby. You'll see a lot of them
there."

As they alighted from a taxi in front of the Brown Derby, Clayton saw a
crowd of people lined up on each side of the entrance. It reminded him
of the crowds he had seen at the station welcoming the famous Balza.

"They must be expecting a very important personage," he said to Reece.

"Oh, these boobs are here every day," replied the young man.

The Brown Derby was crowded--well groomed men, beautifully gowned
girls. There was something odd in the apparel, the ornaments, or
the hair dressing of each, as though each was trying to out-do the
others in attracting attention to himself. There was a great deal of
chattering and calling back and forth between tables: "How ah you?"
"How mahvellous you look!" "How ah you?" "See you at the Chinese
tonight?" "How ah you?"

Reece pointed out the celebrities to Clayton. One or two of the names
were familiar to the stranger, but they all looked so much alike and
talked so much alike, and said nothing when they did talk, that Clayton
was soon bored. He was glad when the meal was over. He paid the check,
and they went out.

"Doing anything this evening?" asked Reece.

"I have nothing planned."

"Suppose we go to the première of Balza's latest picture, Soft
Shoulders, at the Chinese. I have a ticket; and I know a fellow who can
get you one, but it will probably cost you twenty-five smackers." He
eyed Clayton questioningly.

"Is it something that I ought to see if I am to see Hollywood?"

"Absolutely!"

       *       *       *       *       *

A glare of lights illuminated the front of Grauman's Chinese Theater
and the sky above, twenty thousand people milled and pushed and elbowed
in Hollywood Boulevard, filling the street from building line to
building line, a solid mass of humanity blocking all traffic. Policemen
shouldered and sweated. Street cars were at a standstill. Clayton and
Reece walked from The Roosevelt through the surging crowd.

As they approached the theater Clayton heard loud speakers broadcasting
the arrival of celebrities who had left their cars two or three blocks
away and forced their way through the mob to the forecourt of the
theater.

The forecourt of the theater was jammed with spectators and autograph
seekers. Several of the former had brought chairs; many had been
sitting or standing there since morning that they might be assured of
choice vantage spots from which to view the great ones of filmdom's
capital.

As Clayton entered the forecourt, the voice of Freeman Lang was filling
the boulevard from the loud speakers. "The celebrities are coming
thick and fast now. Naomi Madison is just getting out of her car--and
there's her new husband with her, the Prince Mudini. And here comes the
sweetest little girl, just coming into the forecourt now. It's Balza
herself! I'll try to get her to say something to you. Oh, Sweetheart,
come over here. My, how gorgeous you're looking tonight. Won't you say
just a word to all your friends of the air? Right over here, please,
dear."

A dozen autograph pests were poking pencils and books toward Balza,
but she quieted them with her most seductive smile and approached the
microphone.

"Hello, everybody!" she lisped. "I wish you were all here. It's simply
mahvellous. I'm so happy to be back in Hollywood."

Clayton smiled enigmatically, the crowd in the street roared its
applause, and Freeman turned to greet the next celebrity. "And here
comes--well, he can't get through the crowd. Honestly, folks, this
crowd is simply tremendous. We've officiated at a lot of premières, but
we've never seen anything like this. The police can't hold 'em back.
They're crowding right up here on top of the microphone. Yes, here he
comes! Hello, there, Jimmie! Right over here. The folks want to hear
from you. This is Jimmie Stone, second assistant production manager
of the B.O. Studio, whose super feature, Soft Shoulders, is being
premièred here tonight in Grauman's Chinese Theater."

"Hello, efferybody. I wish you was all here. It's simply marvellous.
Hello, Momma!"

"Let's go inside," suggested Clayton.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Well, Clayton, how did you like the picture?" asked Reece.

"The acrobats in the prologue were splendid," replied the Englishman.

Reece looked a little crestfallen. Presently he brightened. "I'll tell
you what we'll do," he announced. "I'll get hold of a couple more
fellows and we'll go to a party."

"At this time of night?"

"Oh, it's early. There's Billy Brouke now. Hi, there, Billy! Say, I
want you to meet Mr. Clayton, an old friend of mine from London. Mr.
Clayton, this is Billy Brouke. How about a little party, Billy?"

"O.K. by me! We'll go in my car; it's parked around the corner."

On a side street near Franklin they climbed into a flashy roadster.
Brouke drove west a few blocks on Franklin and then turned up a narrow
street that wound into the hills.

Clayton was troubled. "Perhaps your friends may not be pleased if you
bring a stranger," he suggested.

Reece laughed. "Don't worry," he admonished; "they'll be as glad to see
you as they will be to see us."

That made Brouke laugh, too. "I'll say they will," he commented.

Presently they came to the end of the street. "Hell!" muttered Brouke
and turned the car around. He turned into another street and followed
that for a few blocks; then he turned back toward Franklin.

"Forgotten where your friends live?" asked Clayton.

On a side street in an otherwise quiet neighborhood they sighted a
brilliantly lighted house in front of which several cars were parked;
laughter and the sounds of radio music were coming from an open window.

"This looks like the place," said Reece.

"It is," said Brouke with a grin, and drew up at the curb.

A Filipino opened the door in answer to their ring. Reece brushed in
past him, and the others followed. A man and a girl were sitting on the
stairs leading to the upper floor. They were attempting to kiss one
another ardently without spilling the contents of the cocktail glasses
they held. They succeeded in kissing one another, paying no attention
to the newcomers.

To the right of the reception hall was a large living room in which
several couples were dancing to the radio music; others were sprawled
about on chairs and divans; all were drinking. There was a great deal
of laughter.

"The party's getting good," commented Brouke, as he led the way into
the living room. "Hello, everybody!" he cried. "Where's the drinks?
Come on, boys!" and he started for the back of the house, doing a
little dance step on the way.

A middle-aged man, greying at the temples, rose from a divan and
approached Reece. There was a puzzled expression on his face. "I don't
believe--" he started, but Brouke interrupted him.

"It's all right, old man!" he exclaimed. "Sorry to be late. Shake hands
with Mr. Reece and Mr. Clayton of London. How about a little drink?"
and without waiting for an answer he headed for the kitchen. Reece and
the host followed him, but Clayton hesitated. He had failed to note
any exuberant enthusiasm in the attitude of the greying man whom he
assumed to be the master of the house.

A tall blond, swaying a little, approached him. "Haven't I met you
somewhere before, Mr.--ah--"

"Clayton," he came to her rescue.

"How about a little dance?" she demanded. "My boy friend," she
confided, as they swung into the rhythm of the music, "passed out, and
they had to put him to bed."

She talked incessantly, but Clayton managed to ask her if she knew
Rhonda Terry.

"Know Rhonda Terry! I should say I do. She's in Samoa now starring in
her husband's new picture."

"Her husband! Is she married?"

"Yes, she's married to Tom Orman, the director. Do you know her?"

"I met her once," replied Clayton.

"She was all broken up over Stanley Obroski's death, but she finally
snapped out of it and married Tom. Obroski sure made a name for himself
in Africa. Say, that bunch is still talking about the way he killed
lions and gorillas with one hand tied behind him."

Clayton smiled politely.

After the dance she drew him over to a sofa on which two men were
sitting. "Abe," she said to one of the men, "here's a find for you.
This is Mr. Potkin, Mr. Clayton, Abe Potkin, you know; and this is Mr.
Puant, Dan Puant, the famous scenarist."

"We've been watching Mr. Clayton," replied Potkin.

"You'd better grab him," advised the girl; "you'll never find a better
Tarzan."

"He isn't exactly the type, but he might answer; I've been noticing
him," said Potkin. "What do you think, Dan?"

"He's not my idea of Tarzan, but he might do."

"Of course his face doesn't look like Tarzan; but he's big, and that's
what I want," replied Potkin.

"He hasn't a name; nobody ever heard of him, and you said you wanted a
big name," argued Puant.

"We'll use that platinum blond, Era Dessent, opposite him; she's got a
lot of sex appeal and a big name."

"I got an idea!" exclaimed Puant. "I'll write the story around Dessent
and some good-looking juvenile, bring in another fem with 'It' and a
heavy with a big name; and we can use Clayton in long shots with apes
for atmosphere."

"That's a swell idea, Dan; get in a lot of sex stuff and a triangle and
a ballroom or cabaret scene--a big one with a jazz orchestra. What we
want is something different."

"That ought to fix it so that we can use this fellow," said Puant, "for
it won't make much difference who takes the part of Tarzan."

"How about it, Mr. Clayton?" inquired Potkin with an ingratiating smile.

At this juncture Reece and Brouke romped in from the kitchen, each with
a bottle. The host was following, expostulating.

"Have a drink, everybody!" cried Brouke. "The party's goin' stale."

They passed about the room filling up glasses with neat bourbon or gin;
sometimes they mixed them. They paused occasionally to take a drink
themselves. Finally they disappeared into the hallway looking for other
empty glasses.

"Well," demanded Potkin, after the interruption had passed, "how about
it?"

Clayton eyed him questioningly. "How about what?"

"I'm going to make a jungle picture," explained Potkin. "I got a
contract for a Tarzan picture, and I want a Tarzan. I'll make a test of
you tomorrow morning."

"You think I might fill the rôle of Tarzan of the Apes?" inquired
Clayton, as a faint smile touched his lips.

"You ain't just what I want, but you might do. You see, Mr. Puant,
here, can write a swell Tarzan story even if we ain't got no Tarzan at
all. And, say! it will make you. You ought almost to pay me for such a
chance. But I tell you what I do; I like you, Mr. Clayton; I give you
fifty dollars a week, and look at all the publicity you get that it
don't cost you nothing. You be over at the studio in the morning; and
I make a test of you, eh?"

Clayton stood up. "I'll think it over," he said and started across the
room.

A good-looking young woman came running in from the reception hall,
Brouke was pursuing her. "Leave me alone, you cad!" she cried.

The greying host was close behind Brouke. "Leave my wife alone," he
shouted, "and get out of here!"

Brouke gave the man a push that sent him staggering back against a
chair, over which he fell in a heap next to the wall; then he seized
the woman, lifted her in his arms, and ran out into the hall.

Clayton looked on in amazement. He turned and saw the girl, Maya, at
his elbow. "Your friend is getting a little rough," she said.

"He is not my friend," replied Clayton. "I just met him this evening.
He invited me to come to this party that is being given by a friend of
his."

The girl laughed. "Friend of his!" she mimicked. "Joe never saw any of
you guys before. You--" she looked at him closely--"you don't mean to
say you didn't know you were crashing a party in a stranger's house!"

Clayton looked bewildered. "They were not friends of these people?"
he demanded. "Why didn't they order us out? Why didn't they call the
police?"

"And have the police find a kitchen full of booze? Quit your kidding,
Big Boy."

A woman's scream was wafted down from the upper floor. The host was
staggering to his feet. "My God, my wife!" he cried.

Clayton sprang into the hall and leaped up the stairs. He heard cries
coming from behind a closed door; it was locked; he put his shoulder to
it, and it flew open with a crash.

Inside the room a woman was struggling in the clutches of the drunken
Brouke. Clayton seized the man by the scruff of the neck and tore him
away. Brouke voiced a scream of pain and rage; then he turned upon
Clayton, but he was helpless in the giant grip of those mighty muscles.

A police siren wailed in the distance. That seemed to sober Brouke.
"Drop me, you damn fool," he cried; "here come the police!"

Clayton carried the struggling man to the head of the stairs and
pitched him down; then he turned back to the room where the woman lay
on the floor where she had fallen. He raised her to her feet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No, just frightened. He was trying to make me tell him where I kept my
jewels."

The police siren sounded again, much closer now. "You better get out.
Joe's awful sore. He'll have all three of you arrested."

Clayton glanced toward an open window, near which the branches of a
great oak shone in the light from the street lamps in front of the
house. He placed a foot upon the sill and leaped into the darkness. The
woman screamed.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the morning Clayton found Reece waiting for him in the lobby of the
hotel. "Great little party, eh, what?" demanded the young man.

"I thought you would be in jail," said Clayton.

"Not a chance. Billy Brouke has a courtesy card from one of the big
shots. Say, I see you're going to work for Abe Potkin, doing Tarzan."

"Who told you that?"

"It's in Louella Parsons' column in the _Examiner_."

"I'm not."

"You're wise. But I'll tell you a good bet, if you are thinking of
getting into the movies. Prominent Pictures is casting a new Tarzan
picture, and--"

A bell boy approached them. "Telephone call for you, Mr. Clayton," he
said.

Clayton stepped to the booth and picked up the receiver.

"This is Clayton," he said.

"This is the casting office of Prominent Pictures. Can you come right
over for an interview?"

"I'll think about it," replied Clayton, and hung up.

"That was Prominent Pictures calling me," he said as he rejoined Reece.
"They want me to come over for an interview."

"You'd better go; if you get in with Prominent, you're made."

"It might be interesting."

"Think you could do Tarzan?"

"I might."

"Dangerous part. I wouldn't want any of it in mine."

"I think I'll go over." He turned toward the street.

"Say, old man," said Reece, "could you let me have ten until Saturday?"

       *       *       *       *       *

The casting director sized Clayton up. "You look all right to me;
I'll take you up to Mr. Goldeen; he's production manager. Had any
experience?"

"As Tarzan?"

The casting director laughed. "I mean in pictures."

"No."

"Well, you might be all right at that. You don't have to be a Barrymore
to play Tarzan. Come on, we'll go up to Mr. Goldeen's office."

They had to wait a few minutes in the outer office, and then a
secretary ushered them in.

"Hello, Ben!" the casting director greeted Goldeen. "I think I've got
just the man for you. This is Mr. Clayton, Mr. Goldeen."

"For what?"

"For Tarzan."

"Oh; m-m-m."

Goldeen's eyes surveyed Clayton critically for an instant; then the
production manager made a gesture with his palm as though waving them
away. He shook his head. "Not the type," he snapped. "Not the type, at
all."

As Clayton followed the casting director from the room the shadow of a
smile touched his lips.

"I'll tell you what," said the casting director; "there may be a minor
part in it for you; I'll keep you in mind. If anything turns up, I'll
give you a ring. Good-bye!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Later in the day as Clayton was looking through an afternoon paper he
saw a banner spread across the top of the theatrical page: CYRIL
WAYNE TO DO TARZAN. FAMOUS ADAGIO DANCER SIGNED BY PROMINENT PICTURES
FOR STELLAR ROLE IN FORTHCOMING PRODUCTION.

       *       *       *       *       *

A week passed. Clayton was preparing to leave California and return
home. The telephone in his room rang. It was the casting director at
Prominent Pictures. "Got a bit for you in the Tarzan picture," he
announced. "Be at the studio at seven-thirty tomorrow morning."

Clayton thought a moment. "All right," he said; "seven-thirty."

He felt that it might be an interesting experience that would round out
his stay in Hollywood.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Say, you," shouted the assistant director, "what's _your_ name?"

"Clayton."

"Oh, you're the guy that takes the part of the white hunter that Tarzan
rescues from the lion."

Cyril Wayne, garbed in a loin cloth, his body covered with brown
make-up, was eyeing Clayton and whispering to the director, who now
also turned and looked.

"Geeze!" exclaimed the director, "he'll steal the picture. What
dumb-egg ever cast him?"

"Can't you fake it?" asked Wayne.

"Sure, just a flash of him. We won't show his face at all. Let's get
busy and rehearse the scene. Here, you, come over here. What's your
name?"

"Clayton."

"Listen, Clayton. You're supposed to be comin' straight toward the
camera through this jungle in the first shot. You're scared stiff; you
keep lookin' behind you. You're about all in, too; you stagger like
you was about ready to fall down. You see, you're lost in the jungle.
There's a lion stalkin' you. We'll cut the lion shots in. Then in the
last scene the lion is right behind you--and the lion's really in this
scene with you, but you needn't be scared; he won't hurt you. He's
perfectly tame and gentle. You scream. You draw your knife. Your knees
shake. Tarzan hears you and comes swinging through the trees. Say, is
that double here that's goin' to swing through the trees for Cyril?" he
interrupted himself to address his assistant. Assured that the double
was on the set, he continued, "The lion charges; Tarzan swings down
between you and the lion. We get a close up of you there; keep your
back to the camera. Then Tarzan leaps on the lion and kills it. Say,
Eddie, has that lion tamer that's doublin' for Cyril in the kill got
his make-up on even? He looked lousy in the rushes yesterday."

"Everything's all O.K., Chief," replied the assistant.

"All ready then--everybody!" yelled the director. "Get in there,
Clayton, and remember there's a lion behind you and you're scared
stiff."

The rehearsal was satisfactory and the first shots pleased the
director; then came the big scene in which Wayne and Clayton and the
lion appeared. The lion was large and handsome. Clayton admired him.
The trainer cautioned them all that if anything went wrong they were to
stand perfectly still, and under no circumstances was any one to touch
Leo.

The cameras were grinding; Clayton staggered and half fell. He looked
fearfully behind him and uttered a scream of terror. Cyril Wayne
dropped from the branch of a low tree just as the lion emerged from the
jungle behind Clayton. And then something went wrong.

The lion voiced an ugly roar and crouched. Wayne, sensing danger and
losing his head, bolted past Clayton; the lion charged. Leo would have
passed Clayton, who had remained perfectly still, and pursued the
fleeing Wayne; but then something else happened.

Clayton, realizing more than any of the others the danger that menaced
the actor, sprang for the beast and leaped upon its back. A powerful
arm encircled the lion's neck. The beast wheeled and struck at the
man-thing clinging to it, but the terrible talons missed their mark.
Clayton locked his legs beneath the sunken belly of the carnivore. The
lion threw itself to the ground and lashed about in a frenzy of rage.

With his hideous growls mingled equally bestial growls from the throat
of the man. The lion regained its feet and reared upon its hind legs.
The knife that they had given Clayton flashed in the air. Once, twice,
three times it was driven deep into the side of the frenzied beast;
then Leo slumped to the ground, shuddered convulsively and lay still.

Clayton leaped erect; he placed one foot upon his kill and raised his
face to the heavens; then he checked himself and that same slow smile
touched his lips.

An excited man rushed onto the set. It was Benny Goldeen, the
production manager.

"My God!" he cried. "You've killed our best lion. He was worth ten
thousand dollars if he was worth a cent. You're fired!"

       *       *       *       *       *

The clerk at The Roosevelt looked up. "Leaving us, Mr. Clayton?" he
asked politely. "I hope you have enjoyed Hollywood."

"Very much indeed," replied Clayton; "but I wonder if you could give me
some information?"

"Certainly; what is it?"

"What is the shortest route to Africa?"




                        TARZAN AND THE LION MAN


When Hollywood decided to shoot a Tarzan-type movie on location in
deepest Africa, they picked a real movieland muscleman for the role
of "Lion Man." But all that celluloid hero knew was how to look like
Tarzan, not how to act like him.

So when the movie company was ripped apart by the spears of cannibals
and the deviltry of a band of marauding gorillas, there was nobody in
the world capable of aiding them but the real thing--Tarzan of the Apes
himself.

Tarzan's struggle to save the lives of stars and directors and outwit a
savage assortment of fearsome foes makes this one of the most exciting
jungle stories Edgar Rice Burroughs ever wrote.