22
Tarzan Recovers His Reason
As Tarzan let the pebbles from the recovered pouch run through hisfingers, his thoughts returned to the pile of yellow ingots about whichthe Arabs and the Abyssinians had waged their relentless battle.
What was there in common between that pile of dirty metal and thebeautiful, sparkling pebbles that had formerly been in his pouch? Whatwas the metal? From whence had it come? What was that tantalizinghalf-conviction which seemed to demand the recognition of his memorythat the yellow pile for which these men had fought and died had beenintimately connected with his past--that it had been his?
What had been his past? He shook his head. Vaguely the memory of hisapish childhood passed slowly in review--then came a strangely tangledmass of faces, figures and events which seemed to have no relation toTarzan of the Apes, and yet which were, even in their fragmentary form,familiar.
Slowly and painfully, recollection was attempting to reassert itself,the hurt brain was mending, as the cause of its recent failure tofunction was being slowly absorbed or removed by the healing processesof perfect circulation.
The people who now passed before his mind's eye for the first time inweeks wore familiar faces; but yet he could neither place them in theniches they had once filled in his past life, nor call them by name.One was a fair she, and it was her face which most often moved throughthe tangled recollections of his convalescing brain. Who was she?What had she been to Tarzan of the Apes? He seemed to see her aboutthe very spot upon which the pile of gold had been unearthed by theAbyssinians; but the surroundings were vastly different from thosewhich now obtained.
There was a building--there were many buildings--and there were hedges,fences, and flowers. Tarzan puckered his brow in puzzled study of thewonderful problem. For an instant he seemed to grasp the whole of atrue explanation, and then, just as success was within his grasp, thepicture faded into a jungle scene where a naked, white youth danced incompany with a band of hairy, primordial ape-things.
Tarzan shook his head and sighed. Why was it that he could notrecollect? At least he was sure that in some way the pile of gold, theplace where it lay, the subtle aroma of the elusive she he had beenpursuing, the memory figure of the white woman, and he himself, wereinextricably connected by the ties of a forgotten past.
If the woman belonged there, what better place to search or await herthan the very spot which his broken recollections seemed to assign toher? It was worth trying. Tarzan slipped the thong of the empty pouchover his shoulder and started off through the trees in the direction ofthe plain.
At the outskirts of the forest he met the Arabs returning in search ofAchmet Zek. Hiding, he let them pass, and then resumed his way towardthe charred ruins of the home he had been almost upon the point ofrecalling to his memory.
His journey across the plain was interrupted by the discovery of asmall herd of antelope in a little swale, where the cover and the windwere well combined to make stalking easy. A fat yearling rewarded ahalf hour of stealthy creeping and a sudden, savage rush, and it waslate in the afternoon when the ape-man settled himself upon hishaunches beside his kill to enjoy the fruits of his skill, his cunning,and his prowess.
His hunger satisfied, thirst next claimed his attention. The riverlured him by the shortest path toward its refreshing waters, and whenhe had drunk, night already had fallen and he was some half mile ormore down stream from the point where he had seen the pile of yellowingots, and where he hoped to meet the memory woman, or find some clewto her whereabouts or her identity.
To the jungle bred, time is usually a matter of small moment, andhaste, except when engendered by terror, by rage, or by hunger, isdistasteful. Today was gone. Therefore tomorrow, of which there wasan infinite procession, would answer admirably for Tarzan's furtherquest. And, besides, the ape-man was tired and would sleep.
A tree afforded him the safety, seclusion and comforts of awell-appointed bedchamber, and to the chorus of the hunters and thehunted of the wild river bank he soon dropped off into deep slumber.
Morning found him both hungry and thirsty again, and dropping from histree he made his way to the drinking place at the river's edge. Therehe found Numa, the lion, ahead of him. The big fellow was lapping thewater greedily, and at the approach of Tarzan along the trail in hisrear, he raised his head, and turning his gaze backward across hismaned shoulders glared at the intruder. A low growl of warning rumbledfrom his throat; but Tarzan, guessing that the beast had but justquitted his kill and was well filled, merely made a slight detour andcontinued to the river, where he stopped a few yards above the tawnycat, and dropping upon his hands and knees plunged his face into thecool water. For a moment the lion continued to eye the man; then heresumed his drinking, and man and beast quenched their thirst side byside each apparently oblivious of the other's presence.
Numa was the first to finish. Raising his head, he gazed across theriver for a few minutes with that stony fixity of attention which is acharacteristic of his kind. But for the ruffling of his black mane tothe touch of the passing breeze he might have been wrought from goldenbronze, so motionless, so statuesque his pose.
A deep sigh from the cavernous lungs dispelled the illusion. Themighty head swung slowly around until the yellow eyes rested upon theman. The bristled lip curved upward, exposing yellow fangs. Anotherwarning growl vibrated the heavy jowls, and the king of beasts turnedmajestically about and paced slowly up the trail into the dense reeds.
Tarzan of the Apes drank on, but from the corners of his gray eyes hewatched the great brute's every move until he had disappeared fromview, and, after, his keen ears marked the movements of the carnivore.
A plunge in the river was followed by a scant breakfast of eggs whichchance discovered to him, and then he set off up river toward the ruinsof the bungalow where the golden ingots had marked the center ofyesterday's battle.
And when he came upon the spot, great was his surprise andconsternation, for the yellow metal had disappeared. The earth,trampled by the feet of horses and men, gave no clew. It was as thoughthe ingots had evaporated into thin air.
The ape-man was at a loss to know where to turn or what next to do.There was no sign of any spoor which might denote that the she had beenhere. The metal was gone, and if there was any connection between theshe and the metal it seemed useless to wait for her now that the latterhad been removed elsewhere.
Everything seemed to elude him--the pretty pebbles, the yellow metal,the she, his memory. Tarzan was disgusted. He would go back into thejungle and look for Chulk, and so he turned his steps once more towardthe forest. He moved rapidly, swinging across the plain in a long,easy trot, and at the edge of the forest, taking to the trees with theagility and speed of a small monkey.
His direction was aimless--he merely raced on and on through thejungle, the joy of unfettered action his principal urge, with the hopeof stumbling upon some clew to Chulk or the she, a secondary incentive.
For two days he roamed about, killing, eating, drinking and sleepingwherever inclination and the means to indulge it occurredsimultaneously. It was upon the morning of the third day that thescent spoor of horse and man were wafted faintly to his nostrils.Instantly he altered his course to glide silently through the branchesin the direction from which the scent came.
It was not long before he came upon a solitary horseman riding towardthe east. Instantly his eyes confirmed what his nose had previouslysuspected--the rider was he who had stolen his pretty pebbles. Thelight of rage flared suddenly in the gray eyes as the ape-man droppedlower among the branches until he moved almost directly above theunconscious Werper.
There was a quick leap, and the Belgian felt a heavy body hurtle ontothe rump of his terror-stricken mount. The horse, snorting, leapedforward. Giant arms encircled the rider, and in the twinkling of aneye he was dragged from his saddle to find himself lying in the narrowtrail with a naked, white giant kneeling upon his breast.
Recognition came to
Werper with the first glance at his captor's face,and a pallor of fear overspread his features. Strong fingers were athis throat, fingers of steel. He tried to cry out, to plead for hislife; but the cruel fingers denied him speech, as they were as surelydenying him life.
"The pretty pebbles?" cried the man upon his breast. "What did youwith the pretty pebbles--with Tarzan's pretty pebbles?"
The fingers relaxed to permit a reply. For some time Werper could onlychoke and cough--at last he regained the powers of speech.
"Achmet Zek, the Arab, stole them from me," he cried; "he made me giveup the pouch and the pebbles."
"I saw all that," replied Tarzan; "but the pebbles in the pouch werenot the pebbles of Tarzan--they were only such pebbles as fill thebottoms of the rivers, and the shelving banks beside them. Even theArab would not have them, for he threw them away in anger when he hadlooked upon them. It is my pretty pebbles that I want--where are they?"
"I do not know, I do not know," cried Werper. "I gave them to AchmetZek or he would have killed me. A few minutes later he followed mealong the trail to slay me, although he had promised to molest me nofurther, and I shot and killed him; but the pouch was not upon hisperson and though I searched about the jungle for some time I could notfind it."
"I found it, I tell you," growled Tarzan, "and I also found the pebbleswhich Achmet Zek had thrown away in disgust. They were not Tarzan'spebbles. You have hidden them! Tell me where they are or I will killyou," and the brown fingers of the ape-man closed a little tighter uponthe throat of his victim.
Werper struggled to free himself. "My God, Lord Greystoke," he managedto scream, "would you commit murder for a handful of stones?"
The fingers at his throat relaxed, a puzzled, far-away expressionsoftened the gray eyes.
"Lord Greystoke!" repeated the ape-man. "Lord Greystoke! Who is LordGreystoke? Where have I heard that name before?"
"Why man, you are Lord Greystoke," cried the Belgian. "You wereinjured by a falling rock when the earthquake shattered the passage tothe underground chamber to which you and your black Waziri had come tofetch golden ingots back to your bungalow. The blow shattered yourmemory. You are John Clayton, Lord Greystoke--don't you remember?"
"John Clayton, Lord Greystoke!" repeated Tarzan. Then for a moment hewas silent. Presently his hand went falteringly to his forehead, anexpression of wonderment filled his eyes--of wonderment and suddenunderstanding. The forgotten name had reawakened the returning memorythat had been struggling to reassert itself. The ape-man relinquishedhis grasp upon the throat of the Belgian, and leaped to his feet.
"God!" he cried, and then, "Jane!" Suddenly he turned toward Werper."My wife?" he asked. "What has become of her? The farm is in ruins.You know. You have had something to do with all this. You followed meto Opar, you stole the jewels which I thought but pretty pebbles. Youare a crook! Do not try to tell me that you are not."
"He is worse than a crook," said a quiet voice close behind them.
Tarzan turned in astonishment to see a tall man in uniform standing inthe trail a few paces from him. Back of the man were a number of blacksoldiers in the uniform of the Congo Free State.
"He is a murderer, Monsieur," continued the officer. "I have followedhim for a long time to take him back to stand trial for the killing ofhis superior officer."
Werper was upon his feet now, gazing, white and trembling, at the fatewhich had overtaken him even in the fastness of the labyrinthinejungle. Instinctively he turned to flee; but Tarzan of the Apesreached out a strong hand and grasped him by the shoulder.
"Wait!" said the ape-man to his captive. "This gentleman wishes you,and so do I. When I am through with you, he may have you. Tell me whathas become of my wife."
The Belgian officer eyed the almost naked, white giant with curiosity.He noted the strange contrast of primitive weapons and apparel, and theeasy, fluent French which the man spoke. The former denoted thelowest, the latter the highest type of culture. He could not quitedetermine the social status of this strange creature; but he knew thathe did not relish the easy assurance with which the fellow presumed todictate when he might take possession of the prisoner.
"Pardon me," he said, stepping forward and placing his hand on Werper'sother shoulder; "but this gentleman is my prisoner. He must come withme."
"When I am through with him," replied Tarzan, quietly.
The officer turned and beckoned to the soldiers standing in the trailbehind him. A company of uniformed blacks stepped quickly forward andpushing past the three, surrounded the ape-man and his captive.
"Both the law and the power to enforce it are upon my side," announcedthe officer. "Let us have no trouble. If you have a grievance againstthis man you may return with me and enter your charge regularly beforean authorized tribunal."
"Your legal rights are not above suspicion, my friend," replied Tarzan,"and your power to enforce your commands are only apparent--not real.You have presumed to enter British territory with an armed force.Where is your authority for this invasion? Where are the extraditionpapers which warrant the arrest of this man? And what assurance haveyou that I cannot bring an armed force about you that will prevent yourreturn to the Congo Free State?"
The Belgian lost his temper. "I have no disposition to argue with anaked savage," he cried. "Unless you wish to be hurt you will notinterfere with me. Take the prisoner, Sergeant!"
Werper raised his lips close to Tarzan's ear. "Keep me from them, andI can show you the very spot where I saw your wife last night," hewhispered. "She cannot be far from here at this very minute."
The soldiers, following the signal from their sergeant, closed in toseize Werper. Tarzan grabbed the Belgian about the waist, and bearinghim beneath his arm as he might have borne a sack of flour, leapedforward in an attempt to break through the cordon. His right fistcaught the nearest soldier upon the jaw and sent him hurtling backwardupon his fellows. Clubbed rifles were torn from the hands of those whobarred his way, and right and left the black soldiers stumbled aside inthe face of the ape-man's savage break for liberty.
So completely did the blacks surround the two that they dared not firefor fear of hitting one of their own number, and Tarzan was alreadythrough them and upon the point of dodging into the concealing mazes ofthe jungle when one who had sneaked upon him from behind struck him aheavy blow upon the head with a rifle.
In an instant the ape-man was down and a dozen black soldiers were uponhis back. When he regained consciousness he found himself securelybound, as was Werper also. The Belgian officer, success having crownedhis efforts, was in good humor, and inclined to chaff his prisonersabout the ease with which they had been captured; but from Tarzan ofthe Apes he elicited no response. Werper, however, was voluble in hisprotests. He explained that Tarzan was an English lord; but theofficer only laughed at the assertion, and advised his prisoner to savehis breath for his defense in court.
As soon as Tarzan regained his senses and it was found that he was notseriously injured, the prisoners were hastened into line and the returnmarch toward the Congo Free State boundary commenced.
Toward evening the column halted beside a stream, made camp andprepared the evening meal. From the thick foliage of the nearby junglea pair of fierce eyes watched the activities of the uniformed blackswith silent intensity and curiosity. From beneath beetling brows thecreature saw the boma constructed, the fires built, and the supperprepared.
Tarzan and Werper had been lying bound behind a small pile of knapsacksfrom the time that the company had halted; but with the preparation ofthe meal completed, their guard ordered them to rise and come forwardto one of the fires where their hands would be unfettered that theymight eat.
As the giant ape-man rose, a startled expression of recognition enteredthe eyes of the watcher in the jungle, and a low guttural broke fromthe savage lips. Instantly Tarzan was alert, but the answering growldied upon his lips, suppressed by the fear that it might arouse thesuspicions of the so
ldiers.
Suddenly an inspiration came to him. He turned toward Werper.
"I am going to speak to you in a loud voice and in a tongue which youdo not understand. Appear to listen intently to what I say, andoccasionally mumble something as though replying in the samelanguage--our escape may hinge upon the success of your efforts."
Werper nodded in assent and understanding, and immediately there brokefrom the lips of his companion a strange jargon which might have beencompared with equal propriety to the barking and growling of a dog andthe chattering of monkeys.
The nearer soldiers looked in surprise at the ape-man. Some of themlaughed, while others drew away in evident superstitious fear. Theofficer approached the prisoners while Tarzan was still jabbering, andhalted behind them, listening in perplexed interest. When Werpermumbled some ridiculous jargon in reply his curiosity broke bounds, andhe stepped forward, demanding to know what language it was that theyspoke.
Tarzan had gauged the measure of the man's culture from the nature andquality of his conversation during the march, and he rested the successof his reply upon the estimate he had made.
"Greek," he explained.
"Oh, I thought it was Greek," replied the officer; "but it has been somany years since I studied it that I was not sure. In future, however,I will thank you to speak in a language which I am more familiar with."
Werper turned his head to hide a grin, whispering to Tarzan: "It wasGreek to him all right--and to me, too."
But one of the black soldiers mumbled in a low voice to a companion: "Ihave heard those sounds before--once at night when I was lost in thejungle, I heard the hairy men of the trees talking among themselves,and their words were like the words of this white man. I wish that wehad not found him. He is not a man at all--he is a bad spirit, and weshall have bad luck if we do not let him go," and the fellow rolled hiseyes fearfully toward the jungle.
His companion laughed nervously, and moved away, to repeat theconversation, with variations and exaggerations, to others of the blacksoldiery, so that it was not long before a frightful tale of blackmagic and sudden death was woven about the giant prisoner, and had gonethe rounds of the camp.
And deep in the gloomy jungle amidst the darkening shadows of thefalling night a hairy, manlike creature swung swiftly southward uponsome secret mission of his own.