The Son of Tarzan

  Chapter 25

  The Sheik glowered at the prisoner which his two men brought back tohim from the North. He had sent the party after Abdul Kamak, and hewas wroth that instead of his erstwhile lieutenant they had sent back awounded and useless Englishman. Why had they not dispatched him wherethey had found him? He was some penniless beggar of a trader who hadwandered from his own district and became lost. He was worthless. TheSheik scowled terribly upon him.

  "Who are you?" he asked in French.

  "I am the Hon. Morison Baynes of London," replied his prisoner.

  The title sounded promising, and at once the wily old robber hadvisions of ransom. His intentions, if not his attitude toward theprisoner underwent a change--he would investigate further.

  "What were you doing poaching in my country?" growled he.

  "I was not aware that you owned Africa," replied the Hon. Morison. "Iwas searching for a young woman who had been abducted from the home ofa friend. The abductor wounded me and I drifted down river in acanoe--I was on my way back to his camp when your men seized me."

  "A young woman?" asked The Sheik. "Is that she?" and he pointed to hisleft over toward a clump of bushes near the stockade.

  Baynes looked in the direction indicated and his eyes went wide, forthere, sitting cross-legged upon the ground, her back toward them, wasMeriem.

  "Meriem!" he shouted, starting toward her; but one of his guardsgrasped his arm and jerked him back. The girl leaped to her feet andturned toward him as she heard her name.

  "Morison!" she cried.

  "Be still, and stay where you are," snapped The Sheik, and then toBaynes. "So you are the dog of a Christian who stole my daughter fromme?"

  "Your daughter?" ejaculated Baynes. "She is your daughter?"

  "She is my daughter," growled the Arab, "and she is not for anyunbeliever. You have earned death, Englishman, but if you can pay foryour life I will give it to you."

  Baynes' eyes were still wide at the unexpected sight of Meriem here inthe camp of the Arab when he had thought her in Hanson's power. Whathad happened? How had she escaped the Swede? Had the Arab taken herby force from him, or had she escaped and come voluntarily back to theprotection of the man who called her "daughter"? He would have givenmuch for a word with her. If she was safe here he might only harm herby antagonizing the Arab in an attempt to take her away and return herto her English friends. No longer did the Hon. Morison harbor thoughtsof luring the girl to London.

  "Well?" asked The Sheik.

  "Oh," exclaimed Baynes; "I beg your pardon--I was thinking of somethingelse. Why yes, of course, glad to pay, I'm sure. How much do youthink I'm worth?"

  The Sheik named a sum that was rather less exorbitant than the Hon.Morison had anticipated. The latter nodded his head in token of hisentire willingness to pay. He would have promised a sum far beyond hisresources just as readily, for he had no intention of payinganything--his one reason for seeming to comply with The Sheik's demandswas that the wait for the coming of the ransom money would give him thetime and the opportunity to free Meriem if he found that she wished tobe freed. The Arab's statement that he was her father naturally raisedthe question in the Hon. Morison's mind as to precisely what thegirl's attitude toward escape might be. It seemed, of course,preposterous that this fair and beautiful young woman should prefer toremain in the filthy douar of an illiterate old Arab rather than returnto the comforts, luxuries, and congenial associations of the hospitableAfrican bungalow from which the Hon. Morison had tricked her. The manflushed at the thought of his duplicity which these recollectionsaroused--thoughts which were interrupted by The Sheik, who instructedthe Hon. Morison to write a letter to the British consul at Algiers,dictating the exact phraseology of it with a fluency that indicated tohis captive that this was not the first time the old rascal had hadoccasion to negotiate with English relatives for the ransom of akinsman. Baynes demurred when he saw that the letter was addressed tothe consul at Algiers, saying that it would require the better part ofa year to get the money back to him; but The Sheik would not listen toBaynes' plan to send a messenger directly to the nearest coast town,and from there communicate with the nearest cable station, sending theHon. Morison's request for funds straight to his own solicitors. No,The Sheik was cautious and wary. He knew his own plan had worked wellin the past. In the other were too many untried elements. He was inno hurry for the money--he could wait a year, or two years ifnecessary; but it should not require over six months. He turned to oneof the Arabs who had been standing behind him and gave the fellowinstructions in relation to the prisoner.

  Baynes could not understand the words, spoken in Arabic, but the jerkof the thumb toward him showed that he was the subject of conversation.The Arab addressed by The Sheik bowed to his master and beckoned Baynesto follow him. The Englishman looked toward The Sheik forconfirmation. The latter nodded impatiently, and the Hon. Morison roseand followed his guide toward a native hut which lay close beside oneof the outside goatskin tents. In the dark, stifling interior hisguard led him, then stepped to the doorway and called to a couple ofblack boys squatting before their own huts. They came promptly and inaccordance with the Arab's instructions bound Baynes' wrists and anklessecurely. The Englishman objected strenuously; but as neither theblacks nor the Arab could understand a word he said his pleas werewasted. Having bound him they left the hut. The Hon. Morison lay fora long time contemplating the frightful future which awaited him duringthe long months which must intervene before his friends learned of hispredicament and could get succor to him. Now he hoped that they wouldsend the ransom--he would gladly pay all that he was worth to be out ofthis hole. At first it had been his intention to cable his solicitorsto send no money but to communicate with the British West Africanauthorities and have an expedition sent to his aid.

  His patrician nose wrinkled in disgust as his nostrils were assailed bythe awful stench of the hut. The nasty grasses upon which he layexuded the effluvium of sweaty bodies, of decayed animal matter and ofoffal. But worse was yet to come. He had lain in the uncomfortableposition in which they had thrown him but for a few minutes when hebecame distinctly conscious of an acute itching sensation upon hishands, his neck and scalp. He wriggled to a sitting posture horrifiedand disgusted. The itching rapidly extended to other parts of hisbody--it was torture, and his hands were bound securely at his back!

  He tugged and pulled at his bonds until he was exhausted; but notentirely without hope, for he was sure that he was working enough slackout of the knot to eventually permit of his withdrawing one of hishands. Night came. They brought him neither food nor drink. Hewondered if they expected him to live on nothing for a year. The bitesof the vermin grew less annoying though not less numerous. The Hon.Morison saw a ray of hope in this indication of future immunity throughinoculation. He still worked weakly at his bonds, and then the ratscame. If the vermin were disgusting the rats were terrifying. Theyscurried over his body, squealing and fighting. Finally one commencedto chew at one of his ears. With an oath, the Hon. Morison struggledto a sitting posture. The rats retreated. He worked his legs beneathhim and came to his knees, and then, by superhuman effort, rose to hisfeet. There he stood, reeling drunkenly, dripping with cold sweat.

  "God!" he muttered, "what have I done to deserve--" He paused. Whathad he done? He thought of the girl in another tent in that accursedvillage. He was getting his deserts. He set his jaws firmly with therealization. He would never complain again! At that moment he becameaware of voices raised angrily in the goatskin tent close beside thehut in which he lay. One of them was a woman's. Could it be Meriem's?The language was probably Arabic--he could not understand a word of it;but the tones were hers.

  He tried to think of some way of attracting her attention to his nearpresence. If she could remove his bonds they might escape together--ifshe wished to escape. That thought bothered him. He was not sure ofher status in the village. If she were the petted child of thepowerful Shei
k then she would probably not care to escape. He mustknow, definitely.

  At the bungalow he had often heard Meriem sing God Save the King, as MyDear accompanied her on the piano. Raising his voice he now hummed thetune. Immediately he heard Meriem's voice from the tent. She spokerapidly.

  "Good bye, Morison," she cried. "If God is good I shall be dead beforemorning, for if I still live I shall be worse than dead after tonight."

  Then he heard an angry exclamation in a man's voice, followed by thesounds of a scuffle. Baynes went white with horror. He struggledfrantically again with his bonds. They were giving. A moment laterone hand was free. It was but the work of an instant then to loose theother. Stooping, he untied the rope from his ankles, then hestraightened and started for the hut doorway bent on reaching Meriem'sside. As he stepped out into the night the figure of a huge black roseand barred his progress.

  When speed was required of him Korak depended upon no other musclesthan his own, and so it was that the moment Tantor had landed himsafely upon the same side of the river as lay the village of The Sheik,the ape-man deserted his bulky comrade and took to the trees in a rapidrace toward the south and the spot where the Swede had told him Meriemmight be. It was dark when he came to the palisade, strengthenedconsiderably since the day that he had rescued Meriem from her pitifullife within its cruel confines. No longer did the giant tree spreadits branches above the wooden rampart; but ordinary man-made defenseswere scarce considered obstacles by Korak. Loosening the rope at hiswaist he tossed the noose over one of the sharpened posts that composedthe palisade. A moment later his eyes were above the level of theobstacle taking in all within their range beyond. There was no one insight close by, and Korak drew himself to the top and dropped lightlyto the ground within the enclosure.

  Then he commenced his stealthy search of the village. First toward theArab tents he made his way, sniffing and listening. He passed behindthem searching for some sign of Meriem. Not even the wild Arab cursheard his passage, so silently he went--a shadow passing throughshadows. The odor of tobacco told him that the Arabs were smokingbefore their tents. The sound of laughter fell upon his ears, and thenfrom the opposite side of the village came the notes of a once familiartune: God Save the King. Korak halted in perplexity. Who might itbe--the tones were those of a man. He recalled the young Englishman hehad left on the river trail and who had disappeared before he returned.A moment later there came to him a woman's voice in reply--it wasMeriem's, and The Killer, quickened into action, slunk rapidly in thedirection of these two voices.

  The evening meal over Meriem had gone to her pallet in the women'squarters of The Sheik's tent, a little corner screened off in the rearby a couple of priceless Persian rugs to form a partition. In thesequarters she had dwelt with Mabunu alone, for The Sheik had no wives.Nor were conditions altered now after the years of her absence--she andMabunu were alone in the women's quarters.

  Presently The Sheik came and parted the rugs. He glared through thedim light of the interior.

  "Meriem!" he called. "Come hither."

  The girl arose and came into the front of the tent. There the light ofa fire illuminated the interior. She saw Ali ben Kadin, The Sheik'shalf brother, squatted upon a rug, smoking. The Sheik was standing.The Sheik and Ali ben Kadin had had the same father, but Ali benKadin's mother had been a slave--a West Coast Negress. Ali ben Kadinwas old and hideous and almost black. His nose and part of one cheekwere eaten away by disease. He looked up and grinned as Meriem entered.

  The Sheik jerked his thumb toward Ali ben Kadin and addressed Meriem.

  "I am getting old," he said, "I shall not live much longer. ThereforeI have given you to Ali ben Kadin, my brother."

  That was all. Ali ben Kadin rose and came toward her. Meriem shrankback, horrified. The man seized her wrist.

  "Come!" he commanded, and dragged her from The Sheik's tent and to hisown.

  After they had gone The Sheik chuckled. "When I send her north in afew months," he soliloquized, "they will know the reward for slayingthe son of the sister of Amor ben Khatour."

  And in Ali ben Kadin's tent Meriem pleaded and threatened, but all tono avail. The hideous old halfcaste spoke soft words at first, butwhen Meriem loosed upon him the vials of her horror and loathing hebecame enraged, and rushing upon her seized her in his arms. Twice shetore away from him, and in one of the intervals during which shemanaged to elude him she heard Baynes' voice humming the tune that sheknew was meant for her ears. At her reply Ali ben Kadin rushed uponher once again. This time he dragged her back into the rear apartmentof his tent where three Negresses looked up in stolid indifference tothe tragedy being enacted before them.

  As the Hon. Morison saw his way blocked by the huge frame of the giantblack his disappointment and rage filled him with a bestial fury thattransformed him into a savage beast. With an oath he leaped upon theman before him, the momentum of his body hurling the black to theground. There they fought, the black to draw his knife, the white tochoke the life from the black.

  Baynes' fingers shut off the cry for help that the other would havebeen glad to voice; but presently the Negro succeeded in drawing hisweapon and an instant later Baynes felt the sharp steel in hisshoulder. Again and again the weapon fell. The white man removed onehand from its choking grip upon the black throat. He felt around uponthe ground beside him searching for some missile, and at last hisfingers touched a stone and closed upon it. Raising it above hisantagonist's head the Hon. Morison drove home a terrific blow.Instantly the black relaxed--stunned. Twice more Baynes struck him.Then he leaped to his feet and ran for the goat skin tent from which hehad heard the voice of Meriem in distress.

  But before him was another. Naked but for his leopard skin and hisloin cloth, Korak, The Killer, slunk into the shadows at the back ofAli ben Kadin's tent. The half-caste had just dragged Meriem into therear chamber as Korak's sharp knife slit a six foot opening in the tentwall, and Korak, tall and mighty, sprang through upon the astonishedvisions of the inmates.

  Meriem saw and recognized him the instant that he entered theapartment. Her heart leaped in pride and joy at the sight of the noblefigure for which it had hungered for so long.

  "Korak!" she cried.

  "Meriem!" He uttered the single word as he hurled himself upon theastonished Ali ben Kadin. The three Negresses leaped from theirsleeping mats, screaming. Meriem tried to prevent them from escaping;but before she could succeed the terrified blacks had darted throughthe hole in the tent wall made by Korak's knife, and were gonescreaming through the village.

  The Killer's fingers closed once upon the throat of the hideous Ali.Once his knife plunged into the putrid heart--and Ali ben Kadin laydead upon the floor of his tent. Korak turned toward Meriem and at thesame moment a bloody and disheveled apparition leaped into theapartment.

  "Morison!" cried the girl.

  Korak turned and looked at the new comer. He had been about to takeMeriem in his arms, forgetful of all that might have transpired sincelast he had seen her. Then the coming of the young Englishman recalledthe scene he had witnessed in the little clearing, and a wave of miseryswept over the ape man.

  Already from without came the sounds of the alarm that the threeNegresses had started. Men were running toward the tent of Ali benKadin. There was no time to be lost.

  "Quick!" cried Korak, turning toward Baynes, who had scarce yetrealized whether he was facing a friend or foe. "Take her to thepalisade, following the rear of the tents. Here is my rope. With ityou can scale the wall and make your escape."

  "But you, Korak?" cried Meriem.

  "I will remain," replied the ape-man. "I have business with The Sheik."

  Meriem would have demurred, but The Killer seized them both by theshoulders and hustled them through the slit wall and out into theshadows beyond.

  "Now run for it," he admonished, and turned to meet and hold those whowere pouring into the tent from the front.

  The ape-man fough
t well--fought as he had never fought before; but theodds were too great for victory, though he won that which he mostcraved--time for the Englishman to escape with Meriem. Then he wasoverwhelmed by numbers, and a few minutes later, bound and guarded, hewas carried to The Sheik's tent.

  The old men eyed him in silence for a long time. He was trying to fixin his own mind some form of torture that would gratify his rage andhatred toward this creature who twice had been the means of his losingpossession of Meriem. The killing of Ali ben Kadin caused him littleanger--always had he hated the hideous son of his father's hideousslave. The blow that this naked white warrior had once struck himadded fuel to his rage. He could think of nothing adequate to thecreature's offense.

  And as he sat there looking upon Korak the silence was broken by thetrumpeting of an elephant in the jungle beyond the palisade. A halfsmile touched Korak's lips. He turned his head a trifle in thedirection from which the sound had come and then there broke from hislips, a low, weird call. One of the blacks guarding him struck himacross the mouth with the haft of his spear; but none there knew thesignificance of his cry.

  In the jungle Tantor cocked his ears as the sound of Korak's voice fellupon them. He approached the palisade and lifting his trunk above it,sniffed. Then he placed his head against the wooden logs and pushed;but the palisade was strong and only gave a little to the pressure.

  In The Sheik's tent The Sheik rose at last, and, pointing toward thebound captive, turned to one of his lieutenants.

  "Burn him," he commanded. "At once. The stake is set."

  The guard pushed Korak from The Sheik's presence. They dragged him tothe open space in the center of the village, where a high stake was setin the ground. It had not been intended for burnings, but offered aconvenient place to tie up refractory slaves that they might bebeaten--ofttimes until death relieved their agonies.

  To this stake they bound Korak. Then they brought brush and piledabout him, and The Sheik came and stood by that he might watch theagonies of his victim. But Korak did not wince even after they hadfetched a brand and the flames had shot up among the dry tinder.

  Once, then, he raised his voice in the low call that he had given inThe Sheik's tent, and now, from beyond the palisade, came again thetrumpeting of an elephant.

  Old Tantor had been pushing at the palisade in vain. The sound ofKorak's voice calling him, and the scent of man, his enemy, filled thegreat beast with rage and resentment against the dumb barrier that heldhim back. He wheeled and shuffled back a dozen paces, then he turned,lifted his trunk and gave voice to a mighty roaring, trumpet-call ofanger, lowered his head and charged like a huge battering ram of fleshand bone and muscle straight for the mighty barrier.

  The palisade sagged and splintered to the impact, and through thebreach rushed the infuriated bull. Korak heard the sounds that theothers heard, and he interpreted them as the others did not. Theflames were creeping closer to him when one of the blacks, hearing anoise behind him turned to see the enormous bulk of Tantor lumberingtoward them. The man screamed and fled, and then the bull elephant wasamong them tossing Negroes and Arabs to right and left as he torethrough the flames he feared to the side of the comrade he loved.

  The Sheik, calling orders to his followers, ran to his tent to get hisrifle. Tantor wrapped his trunk about the body of Korak and the staketo which it was bound, and tore it from the ground. The flames weresearing his sensitive hide--sensitive for all its thickness--so that inhis frenzy to both rescue his friend and escape the hated fire he hadall but crushed the life from the ape-man.

  Lifting his burden high above his head the giant beast wheeled andraced for the breach that he had just made in the palisade. The Sheik,rifle in hand, rushed from his tent directly into the path of themaddened brute. He raised his weapon and fired once, the bullet missedits mark, and Tantor was upon him, crushing him beneath those giganticfeet as he raced over him as you and I might crush out the life of anant that chanced to be in our pathway.

  And then, bearing his burden carefully, Tantor, the elephant, enteredthe blackness of the jungle.