"I believe Tarzan took care of them," Hanson said. "If those scoundrels headed for the coast as Tarzan ordered, we haven't anything to worry about."
"If," Billy said. "I give you an if. If Tarzan had cut their guts out and fed them to lions, then they be taken care of. I think Tarzan been away from jungle little much. Lion attacks you, you don't slap him. You kill ^him, or you get way away. I say we get way away."
"Certainly, without weapons, those men are of little consequence," Jean said.
"Weapons, or no weapons," Billy said. "A bad man is a bad man. We do not want to be around when they decide to be bad. Don't have a gun to shoot you, they put your eye out with a pointed stick. Bad is bad."
"All right," Hanson said. "We'll eat, pack up, start moving when it's light."
"Thanks, Bwana," Billy said.
"Dad," Jean said, "we can't just go off and leave Tarzan."
"Billy said Tarzan could catch up with us," Hanson said.
"Catch up or get ahead," Billy said, "it's all the same to him."
Hanson considered for a long moment, said, "Billy's right. I really must move on. We are running low on supplies, and a bit of hunting for game wouldn't be a bad idea. I'm sick of hardtack and jerky. I came here to find a lost city, and that's what I'm going to do. Tarzan can certainly take care of himself."
"I don't like it, Dad."
"It'll be okay, baby. Really."
"Worry about Tarzan is no good," Billy said. "Worry about us. We need some worry."
"Get the men together," Hanson said. "We're moving out."
By the time breakfast was prepared, Jean and Hanson had changed into dry clothes. Vapor rose from the steaming verdure, birds sang, and monkeys chattered. All was well with the world. When the gear was packed, Hanson gave orders to Billy, and Billy shouted to the carriers, and the column was on the move again. The path they were following was an easy one, as a large swath had been cut through the jungle by the storm.
As they proceeded, Billy walked next to Hanson and Jean. "Feel a lot better moving on. Every time we stop, bad things seem to happen. Tarzan here, would not be so worried. He knock a knot on a hippo's head, it needs it. But without him, we move on."
"It's all right, Billy," Hanson said. "I'm convinced."
"You, missy?" Billy asked Jean.
"I don't like it," Jean said. "But I'm walking ... Dad, I keep thinking about Tarzan and those apes. Could he actually have been raised by them?"
"Unless you think he's a liar," Hanson said.
"No," Jean said. "But it's so fantastic."
"First of all," Hanson said, "they are not truly apes. That's merely a convenient handle. They are considerably more hominoid than gorilla. Closer to Australopithecus. I presume they have rudimentary language. If not, Tarzan would never have learned to speak. If after a certain point in a child's development he or she does not learn to speak, the child never will."
"I know all that," Jean said. "You know I do. It's just so hard to accept."
"What I think," Hanson said, smiling, "is you are very interested in this Tarzan, and not just his background."
"Dad!"
Shortly after dawn, the sun shone bright and the jungle steamed as the heat increased and the rain evaporated. Birds began to chirp in the trees and monkeys fussed and made noise in the branches. Billy suggested shooting one of the monkeys for a meal, but neither Jean nor Hanson would have it. They thought they were too cute.
"They cute, all right," said Billy, "but they cook up nice you put a stick through them. That Tarzan's monkey. He sure look good. Nice and fat. I would like to put him on a stick."
"I don't think Tarzan would like that idea," Jean said.
"You right," Billy said. "We will not say I said that. But I tell you, you get hungry enough, monkey starts to look less cute and more plump."
Soon the carriers, who had been silent all night, commenced to joke and laugh. They told stories of the two dead men. Stories of their lives and exploits. They told all they could tell that would honor them, and in their honor, they tried not to be sad. The dead men had lived their lives as best they could, and now they were gone to the other side, where all men eventually go.
Midday they came upon a wild hog and Billy shot it. They made camp shortly thereafter and roasted the pig on a spit over a large fire. The meat was good and sweet, and soon they began to feel rested and refreshed.
Hanson, a belly full of roasted pork, felt the worse had been done, and that it was smooth sailing from here on out.
Of course, he was wrong.
In the camp of the renegades, all was not so well. In fact, there wasn't a camp anymore, and as Wilson and Cannon approached it, they found Gromvitch.
Part of him anyway. The head actually. It was lodged between low tree branches at about their head-height. The rest of him was nowhere in sight.
Cannon grunted. "Gromvitch seems to have lost his head."
"Your sentimentality overwhelms me," Wilson said.
"Lookee here," Cannon said, removing his knife, from its sheath and poking it into Gromvitch's mouth. "He ain't got but a couple teeth left here, and they got gold in them."
Cannon used the point of his knife to pop the teeth loose. He put them in his pocket.
"Sure you don't want to boil his head down," Wilson said, "save it for a souvenir?" "I knew how and had the time," Cannon said, "I would."
"You're somethin', Cannon. And ain't none of that somethin' any good."
"What I'm worried about is practical stuff," Cannon said. "Like is mere still supplies enough for us? Ammunition. Guns. Look at it this way, Wilson. Gromvitch dead has its good side. Now we just got to divide what we get two ways."
Cannon ducked under the limbs that held Gromvitch's head, proceeded toward the campsite.
"Hey," Wilson said. "It was Gromvitch, our heads were hanging up there, he'd bury us. Don't you think?"
Cannon turned and looked at Wilson. "Yeah. He'd slit a throat for a dollar, but he was like that. Way I see it though, what Gromvitch would do is one thing. What I'll do is another. You dig a hole, you're feeling Christian. My point of view is he don't deserve nothing no more
than Talent got, and Talent didn't get nothing, and you didn't want to
give him nothing. You're gettin' dewy-eyed all of a sudden, ain't you?"
"Just sayin' what Gromvitch would do is all."
"Bury his noggin, you want. Me, I say let the bugs take care of him."
With that, Cannon proc eeded into what was left of the camp.
Wilson took a long hard look at Gromvitch's head. "There was a look of surprise on Gromvitch's face. Not horror. Just surprise. His nearly toothless mouth hung open as if in idiotic satisfaction. It was as if he had just opened a present and found it to be exactly what he wanted.
Wilson ducked under the limbs and followed Cannon toward the campsite. He realized he was losing his control over Cannon. Cannon was gradually starting to see himself as the big dog of the pair, and Wilson felt certain he would have to eliminate Cannon at some point, or at least teach him some manners. He needed him right now, at least until he found the city, found the treasure that was there. Then, when Cannon helped him carry it out, he'd kill him. Quick and painless. A shot in the back o the head.
Might as well. He knew for a fact, if he didn't kill Cannon, Cannon would kill him.
WHEN HUNT AWOKE the sun was shining brightly through the slit of an opening that led into the cave. The air smelled cool and sweet. He saw Tarzan asleep and apparently relaxed on the rough stony ground with Nkima snuggled in his arms. The great lion was nowhere in sight.
Tarzan opened his eyes and looked at Hunt. "Do not stare if you are watching someone. I can feel you. Always glance, take in what you see, but do not hold the look. If a person is sensitive enough, he can feel the gaze of others."
"Sorry ... Where'd you get those knives?"
"I found them. Around the corner of the cave there are burials and weapons."
Hunt's heart b
eat faster. His love for anthropology and archaeology flared up. "Really, can I see?"
"Take a look. But don't go far."
"The lion isn't around there, is he?"
"He went off to hunt. There is no way to know when he will return."
"Yeah, well, that breaks my heart," Hunt said. "Least he isn't viewing me as food. And I guess that's a plus."
"You can be certain it is," Tarzan said.
Hunt followed the trail by the stream, went around to look at what Tarzan had discovered. He was overwhelmed. Many of the skulls appeared to be quite primitive, fossilized by the dripping of calcium through the rocks. But as Hunt proceeded along the cavern wall, he was amazed to discover some of the skulls were not that old. In fact, they could have been as recent as last week. Hunt experienced a burning excitement. He wished he could tell his mentor, Professor Hanson.
Here was an incredible discovery. At a glance, it appeared this cavern was a sacred burial place for a primitive race here in the jungle. Perhaps there was some connection with this and the lost city they sought. And even if there was no connection, it meant this ill- fated journey to Africa might have a happy ending after all.
That led Hunt to thinking again of Small and Jean. He hurried back to Tarzan. Neither Tarzan nor Nkima was in sight. Hunt had a sudden sinking feeling, then Tarzan crawled into the cave opening and pulled a pile of brush in after him. He went out again, brought more brush back.
"Where is the monkey?" Hunt asked.
"Off to find fruit," Tarzan said. "He has a short attention span. He likes my company best when he is frightened. Now that the storm is over, he is brave again."
"I know how he feels," Hunt said, "though I'm not that brave."
Tarzan began snapping the brush into kindling.
"You're building a fire," Hunt said.
"Nothing escapes you, does it?" Tarzan said.
"You don't have to be snide," Hunt .said. "Isn't the brush too wet to burn?"
"Some of it is damp, but most of it I pulled from the lower quarters, so it is drier. Besides, this kind of brush dries quickly, and it burns well."
"How long have we slept?" Hunt asked.
"Most of the day."
"Shouldn't we help Jean and find Small?"
Tarzan granted. "Rest and food are our greatest allies. We have had one, now we must have the other."
Tarzan opened a small bag fastened to his breechcloth, took out a piece of flint and steel. He used them to make a spark, got the brash going.
"Good," Hunt said. "I'm freezing."
"It is the wet clothes," Tarzan said. 'Take them off."
"What?"
"Suit yourself."
Hunt thought this over for a while. It was hard for a civilized man to travel about naked, but finally he removed everything but his undershorts, shoes, and socks.
"Use some of these limbs to make a prop for your clothes," Tarzan said. "Let them dry by the fire. After you eat, go outside and stand in the sun till you dry. But, with your white skin, you will have to put your clothes on before too long, or you will burn like an ant under a magnifying glass."
When the fire was going, Tarzan blew on it and added more brash. He used one of the knives to cut meat off the filthy buffalo leg. He tossed the meat into the fire.
Hunt used a couple of limbs to make a rack for his clothes by the fire. When he saw the meat sizzling, he said, "You don't by any chance expect me to eat that, do you?"
"I do not expect anything of you," Tarzan said. "You may eat, or you may not eat. That is your choice."
"But that meat is ... rancid."
"Another day and your stomach would not tolerate it at all," Tarzan said. "It would poison you. It may now. I cannot say for certain. Two more days and mine would not tolerate the meat. Only the animals could eat it then. But for now, it is food."
"Couldn't we kill something fresh?"
"I have not the time."
When the meat was charred black, Tarzan used the knife to remove it from the fire. He cut it in two, offered half to Hunt. "Eat or do not. It is your choice."
Hunt grimaced, but he reached out and took the meat. He sniffed it. It smelled burned, nothing more. He bit into it. It was not the best meat he had tasted. In fact, it was pretty awful, but he was starved, and in a matter of minutes, he had devoured it and was licking the grease off his fingers.
Tarzan finished eating as well. He wiped his greasy hands on his thighs, bent, and drank from the creek water.
When he was satiated, Tarzan said, "And now, I must go."
"Go?"
'To find Hanson and Jean, and perhaps this man that was with you,
Small."
"But, I'm not ready."
"Nor will you be. Not for the way I travel. I am going to follow in their last direction until I pick up their spoor. You stay here and wait for me. When I'm sure Wilson and his companions have not harmed them, I will come back for you. You are safer than they are. I was wrong not to have killed those men when I had the chance. Civilization is like a disease. It infects you with stupid sentiments. If I see them again, I will kill them."
Although Hunt was aware of Tarzan's jungle savvy, he was still unaware of the extent of Tarzan's uncanny sense of vision, smell, and hearing. To him, Tarzan was just another human being, with a better knowledge of jungle life than he had. He did not realize that this man, contending from childhood with the beasts of the jungle, had been forced to acquire the senses and the cunning of all of them to survive.
"Listen here, whatever your name is," Hunt said.
'Tarzan."
"Well, Tarzan, you may go around without your pants and run faster than I do, but don't feel so high and mighty. I can keep up. I can do my part."
"No. You stay here. I do not want to hunt for you later. Watch out for the big cats. Make a blind for the cavern mouth here to keep animals out, or find a tree and make a platform."
"You can save your advice," Hunt said. "I'm coming, and that's that."
"Very well," Tarzan said. "I have warned you to stay here. But I think a man should do what he wants, even if it is stupid. You tell a child, do not put your hand in the fire or it will burn you, and the child will believe this and not do it, or he will not and will put his hand in the fire and burn it, and not do it again. You are like the child who has to put his hand in the fire. I am not even sure you are smart enough to withdraw it if it catches ablaze. Come out into the sun and put on your clothes, and follow if you can. Here. Take this."
Tarzan gave Hunt one of the knives. Hunt put on his partially dry clothes and stuck the knife in his belt, then the two of them went outside and stood in the hot sun.
"Will you look for Small, too?' Hunt asked.
"Jean and Hanson are my first concern," Tarzan said. "I promised to lead them on their expedition, and I foolishly allowed myself to be captured, putting them at the possible mercy of Wilson and his comrade. I feel their safety is my responsibility. When I find them, then I can find Small."
"He's all by himself," Hunt said.
"And soon," Tarzan said, "so shall you be."
"I might surprise you, Tarzan," Hunt said. "I'm hard-headed, and I've got more endurance than you think."
"Good. You will need both. Now listen. If you refuse to stay here as I have suggested, when we become separated-"
"If we become separated," Hunt said.
"When we become separated, if you feel you must find Hanson and Jean, I can tell you only this. Head north. Watch the sun. Judge by that. It falls in the west, rises in the east, and you want to go north. At night, find a tree and climb it. Better yet, do as I first suggested and stay here."
Tarzan walked over to a low bush and picked a red berry from it. "These are edible. They grow in abundance. They are not very filling, but they are plentiful. Bird eggs are good too, if you are willing to crack them and drink them raw. Look above you in the trees and you will see the nests. But be careful climbing or you will break your neck. And do not fight a snake,
or even a monkey, for an egg. You will lose."
"You're trying to scare me."
"I'm trying to prepare you. You will not be able to keep up with me, Hunt. I will travel by the trees."
"The trees?"
"It takes a great deal of practice. I was raised by an ape. Kala. She adopted me when my parents were killed. She taught me to move through the trees when I was still a baby. I clung to branches, climbed around in trees even before I could walk."
"Get out of town," Hunt said. "Raised by apes? Yeah, and a pack of dogs reared me under the porch of the White House."
"Have it your way," Tarzan said, and with that, he leapt into the trees and began to climb. By the time Hunt realized what was happening, the ape-man had found a thick vine and was swinging across a vast expanse of jungle.
Hunt leapt up, grabbed a limb, tugged himself into the tree Tarzan had first climbed, clambered upward, hand over hand, limb to limb. When he had reached a fair height, he began looking for a suitable limb by which to swing to a nearby tree, but saw none. He decided he would have to leap to a limb some distance away. He coiled his legs and jumped. His shoes slipped on the limb, and he missed his target.
He fell a short distance before a small broken branch struck him, poked through his belt, and left him dangling upside down like a Christmas tree ornament.
As Hunt struggled, he decided this traveling by tree looked considerably easier than it really was. He felt very silly hanging like an oversized fruit, and sought out a handhold. He labored for some time, and while he labored, a horde of curious monkeys showed up to eat fruit and watch him strain.
After a time, the monkeys began to chatter and leap up and down, obviously delighted by his predicament. The whole episode was making Hunt angry, even embarrassed. It didn't get much worse than having a band of monkeys ridicule you.
Or maybe it did.
The monkeys, bored with his antics, began to throw fruit at him, and finally more monkeys came into play, and some of them were carrying heavy nuts to throw. They bounced them off Hunt's head and body. They were very good shots and had strong arms.
Hunt became so infuriated that he began to struggle wildly. He was amazed at how fast he could cuss the monkeys. The words rolled out of his mouth and came together in unique combinations.