Werper, Barton.

New Tarzan.

Tarzan and the Silver Globe.

Chapter I.

"The Message"

AN ominous quiet had settled over the jungle surrounding the vast estate of Lord and Lady Greystoke. Had it not been for the importance of their conversation. Lord Greystoke, known to his jungle friends as Tarzan of the Apes, would have paid it more heed. Even his wife, Jane, hesitated during her conversation to listen to the strangeness of the quiet for a moment. Her sensitive, feminine nostrils quivered in an effort to identify the strange new odor which seemed to permeate the air. One? glance at her tall, grey-eyed husband, so much more familiar with jungle lore than she, and she dismissed her premonitions. Had it been of importance, her husband would have been aroused. Imagination, she decided, and shrugged it off.

Shortly after the runner had arrived at their holdings with the weekly mails, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, had retired to his study to spend the early evening hours in preoccupied study of the new problem with which he had been presented. At dinner, he seemed distraught, and later in the evening when he excused himself and retired to the bedroom. Lady Greystoke followed him immediately. He told her of the bad news before she could ask about it, and any bystander hearing their voices would have realized that something most unusual to this estate had come about.

"amust of course help them. After all, John, they were our dearest friends in London. Why-without Veronica, it's well possible we might never have returned to Africa." Jane Clayton continued, "I realize it's an incredible sum of money, but we can help them, can't we?"

"We shall," replied Tarzan. "But you must realize that time is of the essence. We cannot put the matter before the board of our company in London. By the time they studied it, and argued about it, Veronica and Ward would be lost." He turned to look tenderly at his wife.

"You must understand, Jane. There is nothing for me to do but go back to Opar. It's the quickest-the only way."

"Oh, no, John," and Jane moved quickly to embrace him, "you can't do that! As much as they mean to us-to me-your life means more! It's so terribly dangerous. You know that Opar has always hurt you-twice, it almost killed you. There must be another way! "

"I've always come back, haven't I, dearest?" Tarzan laughed. "I think I can still take care of myself. Besides which, I will take some of the Waziri with me. Should I falter, they'll see me through."

"You can't say that, John. They failed you before-they may fail you again, and I couldn't bear-"

Tarzan lifted his vote's chin, placing her lips near his. "You want help for our dearest friends, don't you? And you trust me, don't you? "

"Yes, darling, but there must be some other way."

"There is not any other way. Not if we're to get the amount of money Veronica and Ward need, by the time they need it! They did not fail us, Jane. How can we fail them?"

It was at this time the silence, and the strange odor, reached the loving couple. And it was because of their deep love that both ignored these warning signals. They had become immersed in both their memories and their emotions. Jane wept upon Tarzan's shoulder. He held her tenderly, and tried to rea.s.sure her.

"I will be careful, Jane. It's truly the easiest way to get that amount of money so quickly. Truth of the matter is, the Oparians will probably never realize I've been there again. After all, they don't even know where the treasure caves are-and this time, I'll take such small group of warriors that they may keep themselves hidden."

Lady Greystoke shuddered once, sniffed once again, and dissolved into tears. The two abandoned the subject, both recognizing the decision as final. She would wait. He would go. They could both do, more or less, nothing but pray.

They would have begun their prayers that moment had either been aware of the dark figure outside their window. As Jane's tears ended their conversation, this figure stole stealthily away from the bungalow, keeping close to the shadows. Incredibly, it pa.s.sed almost un.o.bserved through the night guard of the Waziri warriors upon whom Tarzan had placed full dependence, and disappeared into the heavy jungle at the edge of the clearing. As the figure left, the silence descended once again upon the jungle, and the weeping Jane wondered again about the strange odor she sensed.

Someone-or something-knew that Tarzan was returning once more to Opar.

The next morning Tarzan took leave of his wife. Stripped to the loincloth and armed after the primitive fashion he best loved, he led a group of his fierce and loyal Waziri away from the estate and on the path toward the dead city of Opar. And, unknown to Tarzan, someone-or something-haunted their trail during the long hot day; camped close behind his group by night.

To Tarzan, however, the entire expedition was somewhat in the nature of a holiday. No matter how civilized Jane had made him, the veneer always chafed him, and occasionally became all but unbearable. Bad though the news had been from his friends, Tarzan had welcomed this chance to return to his jungle, and his jungle ways. Even while comforting his weeping wife, Tarzan had been mentally unpeeling the European clothes which bound him so. It was her love that kept him civilized-and even her love had failed to remove his contempt for the civilization she'd shown him. He hated the sham, the hypocrisy, the rottenness of it all. Even the finer things of civilization which he had grown to love-art, literature, music-didn't make up the difference for him. His jungle friends also had art, a form of literature, and who -having once heard them-could deny the power of jungle drums? He had tried to explain to his mate these deep, innermost feelings. "Show me," he would tell her softly, "the fat, opulent cowards of your civilized world who have given it any of its grace. Show me one of them who could stand up and face the fears, the natural fears of the jungle beasts, and not cry coward!" And when, as she had once done in the past, Jane tried to protest, he would cover her protests with other words. "There is nothing more beautiful than life, and the fight for living. Even your world will admit this fact. What, then, is more beautiful than the battle for survival in my jungle? The display of Nature's most eminent, most terrific beasts, most wild forces, born to fight? It is the finest thing in the world, Jane." And he would calm her unborn protests with the sweet, natural kisses of love.

So, now, Tarzan came back to the jungle in the spirit of a lover returning to his love after a long absence. Once there, he found again-as he had found always in the past-his Waziri,- his blacks, were more civilized-than he. They did not like raw meat. They had learned to cook it before they ate it. They shunned as not edible many of the foods upon which Tarzan had fed as a child. Tarzan felt always a sense of guilt when his natural longings overcame him in their presence. Rather than eat as he wished, he shared burnt flesh with them. Always, he would have preferred it raw-unspoiled. He brought down game with arrow or spear when he would far rather have leaped on it from ambush and sunk his strong teeth its jugular; but at last the call of the milk of the savage mother that had suckled him in infancy rose to an insistent demand. He craved the hot blood of a fresh kill. His muscles yearned to pit themselves against the savage jungle in the battle for existence that had been his sole birthright for the first twenty years of his life.

Moved by these vague but all-powerful urgings, the ape-man lay awake one night in the little thorn boma that had protected, in a way, his party from the depredations of the great carnivore of the jungle. A single warrior stood sleepy guard beside the fire that yellow eyes out of the darkness beyond the camp made imperative. The moans and the coughing of the big cats mingled with the myriad noises of the lesser denizens of the jungle to fan the savage flame in the breast of this untamed English lord. He tossed upon his bed of gra.s.ses, sleepless, for an hour, and then he rose, noiseless as a wraith, and while the Waziri's back was turned, vaulted the boma wall in the face of the flaming eyes, swung silently into a great tree and was gone.

For a time, in sheer exuberance of animal spirits he raced swiftly through the middle terrace, swinging perilously across wide spans from one jungle giant to the next. Then he clambered upward to the swaying, lesser boughs of the upper terrace where the moon shone full upon him an the air was stirred by little breezes and death lurked ready in each frail branch. Here, he paused and raised his face to Goro, the moon. With uplifted arm he stood, the cry of the bull ape quivering upon his lips, and yet he remained silent lest he arouse his faithful Waziri who were all too familiar with the hideous challenge of their master.

Then he went on slower, with greater stealth and caution. Now Tarzan of the Apes was seeking a kill. Down to the ground he came in the utter blackness of the close-set boles and the overhanging verdure of the jungle. He stooped from time to time and put his nose close to earth. He sought and found a wild game trail and at last his nostrils were rewarded with the scent of the fresh spoor of Bara, the deer. Tarzan's mouth watered and a low growl escaped his patrician lips. Sloughed from him was the last vestige of artificial caste; once again he was the primeval hunter-the first man - the highest caste type of the human race. Upwind he had followed the elusive spoor with a sense of perception so transcending that of ordinary man as to be inconceivable to us. Through countercurrents of the heavy stench of meat eaters he traced Bara the deer; the sweet and cloying scent of Horta, the boar, could not drown his quarry's distinctive scent-the permeating, mellow musk of the deer's spoor.

Presently the body scent of the deer told Tarzan that his prey was close at hand. It sent him into the trees again-into the lower terrace where he could watch the ground below and catch with ears and nose the first intimation of actual contact with his quarry. Nor was it long before the ape-man came upon Bara standing alert at the edge of a moon-bathed clearing.

Noiselessly, Tarzan crept through the trees until he was directly over the deer. In the ape-man's right hand was the long hunting knife of his father and in his heart the blood l.u.s.t of the carnivore. Just for an instant he poised above the unsuspecting Bara, and then he launched himself downward upon the sleek back. The impact of his weight carried the deer to the ground and before the animal could reach its feet the knife had found its heart. As Tarzan rose to his feet to scream forth his hideous victory cry into the face of the moon, the wind carried something to his nostrils which froze him to statuesque immobility and silence. His savage eyes blazed into the direction from which the wind had borne down the warning to him as a moment later the gra.s.ses atone side of the clearing parted, and Numa, the lion, strode majestically into view. His yellow-green eyes were fastened upon Tarzan as he halted just within the clearing and glared enviously at the successful hunter. For Numa had had no luck this night.

Tarzan had been on his way for several days and nights to the mysterious lost city of Opar while Jane missed him sorely, and worried about the ape-man's security, she nevertheless realized that the giant Lord of the Jungle could never be quite all hers, that she shared him with a savage, b.l.o.o.d.y and dangerous mistress; a mistress, moreover, of whom she was inordinately jealous, but against whom she had no true weapons except her over-weening love for her lord and master. These sufficed on most occasions, but she had long since learned to recognize the flash that came to Tarzan's eyes from time to time, and to resign herself to the fact that her mate would return to his savage ways until the desire was gone from him.

So, for lack of something else to do, Jane Clayton called in the Waziri maidens and commenced a major operation of cleaning. The bewildered natives soon found themselves knee-deep in an endeavor that made absolutely no sense to them at all. When their own huts became cluttered and dirty, they built new, fresh ones, smelling wonderfully of new gra.s.s and boughs, so that they now constantly clacked m bewilderment, even while following the stern orders of Tarzan's mate.

So it came to pa.s.s that shortly after midnight of this particular night, Jane, exhausted, nevertheless wakened abruptly from her fatigue-induced slumbers. Her senses, perhaps not as alert as those of her mate, sensed something wrong. It took only a second to realize what it was. An ominous quiet had settled over the jungle which surrounded her bungalow. Night birds, lesser and greater predators-all were silent. Even the trees seemed to be silent, as if the very leaves and boughs had stopped moving. What was it? Jane sat up in bed, clutching the bed-clothing tightly around herself. It was like the calm before a major disaster, almost Nature's way of warning against an impending storm or earthquake, and the lone woman shuddered.

Jane got from her bed, threw on a robe, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. She knew that until her curiosity was satisfied she'd never be able to return to sleep, exhausted from the labors of the day though she was. Before she could make a light, there came a cautious scratching at her kitchen door. Without hesitation, she threw it open. None could pa.s.s the eyes of the Waziri guards without permission, so the caller had to be, even at this hour, a welcome one.

It was a great ape, and Jane squinted closely in the moonlight to determine which of them it might be. "Leena?" she said, hesitantly.

The great ape nodded, impatiently. Leena was the mate of Nendat, leader of the tribe that had raised Tarzan from an infant, and hence no minor crisis had arisen. Others could have been sent with an urgent message, but Nendat would trust only his wife for this one. Jane made up her mind quickly. She made a light, and Leena waddled further into the kitchen, squinting anxiously. None of the apes spoke English, but a few, like Leena, understood certain words, and could comprehend gestures.

Leena made anxious sounds, placing a hairy paw on Jane's shoulder. Jane rubbed her cheek alongside Leena's hairy visage, then went to the refrigerator and got out an orange. Leena had learned to love this fruit above all others, and conveyed the urgency of her visit by gently declining it. She made beckoning gestures to Tarzan's mate.

"Danger? "Jane asked.

The ape nodded, shuffling impatiently.

"We go now," Jane decided. Leena made negative gestures, pawing at Jane's robe. "Ah. Dress for jungle travel." Leena agreed with urgent grunts.

When Jane had returned, dressed in soft doeskin, she found Leena happily wiping and licking the last of the orange from her fingers. Apparently, once the urgency of her mission had been conveyed, she felt, practically, that it was both foolish and wasteful not to eat the delicious golden fruit. Leena, wiping a paw across her muzzle, cautioned Jane to be quiet and careful, then herself turned out the light. With grunts and whimpers, she urged Jane out the door. Jane followed without hesitation, trusting Leena as she could never have trusted a beast a few short years ago.

Jane paused at the edge of the little clearing, to pa.s.s a few words of rea.s.surance with the Waziri guard, who also was uneasy about the strange silence that hung over the jungle. He nodded, hardly able to keep his attention on the mistress of the place as he rolled white-rimmed eyes about him.

Leena waited impatiently for Tarzan's mate to finish her instruction, then, as Jane returned to her side, leaped into the nearest tree. Jane followed easily, her jungle-trained muscles leaping lithely into play. As they swung up into the middle terrace for speed, Jane found herself hard-pressed to follow the pace set by the she-ape. She marveled anew that Tarzan could outrun all beasts, on the ground or in the trees. Leena slowed her rapid progress only once, stopping for a particularly succulent grub which she'd dug out from under a bit of tree bark. She tore it in half, politely offering Jane a share. The woman refused it courteously, and Leena, with a peculiarly feminine action that brought a faint smile of amus.e.m.e.nt to Jane's lips, shrugged, and ate both halves with obvious relish, then swung off at renewed speed. Below the strangely-a.s.sorted pair, the jungle was still ominously quiet, and Lady Greystoke still had no idea why she was being taken on this trip. Had something happened to Tarzan?

Chapter II.

"The Witch Doctors Prophecy"

FROM the lips of the ape-man broke a rumbling growl of warning. Numa answered but he did not advance. Instead, he stood waving his tail gently to and fro, and presently Tarzan squatted on his kill and cut a generous portion from a hindquarter. Numa eyed him with growing rage and resentment as, between mouthfuls, the ape-man growled out his savage warnings. Now, this particular lion had never before come in contact with Tarzan of the Apes, and he was much mystified. Here was the appearance and the scent of a man-thing. Numa had tasted of human flesh and learned that while not the most palatable, it was by far the easiest to secure; yet there was that in the b.e.s.t.i.a.l growls of the strange creature which reminded him of formidable antagonists and gave him pause, while his hunger and the odor of the hot flesh of Bara goaded him almost to madness. Always, Tarzan watched him, guessing what was pa.s.sing in the little brain of the carnivore. Well it was that he did watch him, for Numa could stand it no more. His tail shot suddenly erect and at the same instant, the wary ape-man, knowing all too well what the signal portended, grasped the remainder of the deer's hindquarter between his teeth and leaped into a nearby tree as Numa charged him with all the speed and a sufficient semblance to the weight of an express train.

Tarzan's retreat was no indication that he felt fear. Jungle life is ordered along different lines from ours and different standards prevail. Had Tarzan been famished, he would have stood his ground and met the lion's charge. He had done that very thing before on more than one occasion, just as in the past he had charged lions himself; but tonight he was far from famished and in the hindquarter he had carried off more meat with him than he could eat. Yet it was with no equanimity that he looked down at the spectacle of Numa rending Tarzan's kill. Such presumption must be punished! And forthwith Tarzan set out to make life miserable for the big cat. Close by were many trees bearing large, hard fruits, and to one of these the ape-man swung with the agility of a squirrel. Then commenced a bombardment which brought earth-shaking roars from Numa. One after another, as rapidly as he could gather and hurl them, Tarzan pelted the hard fruit down upon the lion. It was impossible for the tawny cat to eat under the hail of missiles - he could but roar and growl and dodge and eventually he was driven away entirely from the carca.s.s of Bara, the deer. He went roaring and resentful, but in the very center of the clearing his voice was hushed and Tarzan saw the great head lower and flatten out, the body crouch and the long tail quiver as the beast slunk cautiously toward the tree upon the opposite side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter III.

"The Cold Rush"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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