note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 43269-h.htm or 43269-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43269/43269-h/43269-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43269/43269-h.zip) [illustration: _not two hundred feet away was a huge elephant._] the forest of mystery by james foster a. l. burt company, publishers new york chicago copyright, 1935, by a. l. burt company printed in the united states of america * * * * * * the exploration series by james foster lost in the wilds of brazil captured by the arabs secrets of the andes the forest of mystery * * * * * * contents chapter page i the chinaman 9 ii a grim discovery 19 iii good news 29 iv seeing the sights 36 v a welcome announcement 43 vi the business card 50 vii the thief turns up 59 viii after the specimens 70 ix failure 79 x off for africa 86 xi an amusing acquaintance 96 xii a disappointing announcement 106 xiii the lost scientist 115 xiv disaster ahead 125 xv a wonderful sight 135 xvi off for the unknown 142 xvii peril ahead 151 xviii the terrible crocodile 158 xix a promise of a thrill 166 xx the buffalo charges 173 xxi two ferocious specimens 183 xxii a pitiful sight 190 xxiii moments of horror 197 xxiv into the forest of mystery 205 xxv the fury of the storm 214 xxvi waiting in dread 220 xxvii the white pygmy elephant 228 xxviii finding one lost 235 xxix angry natives 243 xxx an old mystery is cleared 249 bibliography 254 chapter i the chinaman bang! _crash!_ "what was that?" joe lewis had turned suddenly, every nerve on edge. his eyes tried to penetrate the darkness of the san francisco night. "sounded like an automobile accident," came from bob holton. "come on. let's go around and see." the two chums dashed across the street and around the corner, hoping that nothing tragic had taken place. they passed several people who were hurrying to investigate the strange noise. reaching the thoroughfare, the youths drew back with cries of alarm, for the sight before them was fearful and unpleasant. lying on its top, wheels in the air, was a small automobile, which had evidently crashed into a pole near by. all about was broken glass, and water was still oozing from the radiator. the pole was dented severely, indicating that the car had probably been traveling rapidly. as bob and joe looked on spellbound, a smothered cry for help came from the automobile. it was repeated several times in rapid succession. with throbbing hearts, the boys ran over to the wreck, followed by several other people. in the darkness they could not see clearly inside the car and could only guess who was calling for help. a near-by street lamp, although bright did not illuminate the automobile sufficiently. "let's get this door open," muttered bob. "hurry. there isn't any time to lose." working feverishly, the chums reached through the broken window and tugged at the door. it had been wrenched severely and refused to open. what made the task still more difficult was the fact that broken edges of glass projected from the sides of the window. with a mighty effort, the youths managed to pull the door open, although they almost lost their balance from the sudden impact. but now they were greatly relieved. they had had an uneasy feeling that perhaps the door would not yield. without hesitation bob reached into the car, caught hold of someone, and pulled him out. then, after making sure that no one else was in the car, he turned to the stranger. the youths were a bit surprised to see that he was a chinaman, a short, fat man of middle age. from all appearances he had not been injured in the accident. there was but one little scratch in the side of his face. "you do velly well--get me out queek," he said to bob gratefully. "i was fear i have to stay in machine long tlime." "what was the trouble?" asked joe, edging closer to the overturned automobile as the crowd of spectators grew larger. "did a wheel come off or something?" the little chinaman laughed sheepishly. "nothing like that," he said. "my machine here it was velly new, and i was not good enough dliver. it run loose and clash into this pole. then it turn over." "it was just luck that you weren't hurt," said bob grimly. "not many could have been in a smash-up like that and come out unharmed." at this moment a policeman stepped up to obtain the man's name and address and the details concerning the crash. while the chinaman talked, the officer wrote in a small notebook, on which he turned a flashlight. "don't you think you'd better see a doctor?" asked joe, when the officer had finished. "you might be hurt and not know it." the chinaman shook his head. "not hurt, no," he assured them. "i come thlough without a scratch, as far as i know. but i velly much nervous." "no wonder," said bob. "that wreck was enough to shake anybody's nerves." bob and joe remained at the scene for several minutes. then, as they realized that it was nearly seven o'clock, they started to leave. but at that moment the chinaman called them back. "before you go i want that you make me a promise," he said. the youths looked inquiringly. "i want that you promise you come to my shop tonight. will you come?" the boys were not a little surprised. they wondered what the man's object was in asking them to visit him. "yes," said bob at last, knowing that his chum would also consent. "we'll come. but where is it? and just when do you want us?" bob wrote what the man told them on a piece of paper. the latter asked that they be there at nine o'clock, although just why they could not guess. "what do you think of it?" asked joe, as he and his friend walked rapidly down the street. "i hardly know," was the reply. "maybe he wants to reward us for getting him out of the car." "but--that was nothing. anyone would have done it. no, i'll bet he has something up his sleeve." "what would it be?" demanded bob. "more than i know. we'll see before long. and, say, he wants us to be there by nine o'clock, too. that doesn't give us much time. we'll have to get back to the hotel and see our dads first. we've been gone a long time, you know." "maybe they can tell us how to get to this chink's shop," suggested bob. "do you suppose it's in chinatown?" "where else would it be? chinese here in san francisco don't live anywhere else, do they?" "beyond me." the chums reached the corner and boarded a street car for the business district. they knew it would not be necessary to transfer, and so relaxed in their seat. "san francisco is a swell place, all right," remarked joe, after a short silence. "sure has a lot of interesting things to see. take golden gate park, for instance. it's one of the finest in the country." "you could get lost there," smiled bob. "why, it's as big as a small city. and full of interesting attractions. i'd like to spend a whole day there some time. won't have time on this visit, though." when they were well into the business district, the boys moved toward the exit of the car. at a corner directly opposite the hotel at which they were staying, they left the street car. anxious to see their fathers, they went to the building without delay. in the elevator they were hurried to the tenth floor, where their rooms were located. mr. holton and mr. lewis were waiting for them. the men had returned earlier in the day and had remained inside to discuss business matters. "how do you like san francisco by now?" inquired bob's father quizzically. "seen much of interest yet?" "plenty," returned joe. "sure is a busy place, isn't it? we ought to know. we've been about everywhere." "took in the sights, did you?" asked mr. lewis. "well, there are many here. howard"--referring to bob's father--"and i, however, haven't had much time to look around. all our time has been occupied in talking with this thompson, the man we came out here to see." bob and joe looked up with interest. all day they had wondered what would come of their fathers' conversation with thompson. the latter was a noted naturalist, who had just recently returned from africa. there was a chance, the youths reasoned, that he could interest their dads, who were themselves naturalists, in making an expedition to the dark continent to collect specimens of animal life. and of that expedition, if there should be any, bob and joe hoped to be a part. "what did you find out?" inquired bob anxiously. "did he come across anything unusual in the way of animals and birds?" "did he?" mr. holton smiled happily. "he shot several creatures that were previously unknown to civilized man." "it seems that thompson's expedition penetrated a region that has been invaded by very few whites," explained joe's father. "oh, it was worth their while, all right." "sounds interesting," grinned joe. "go on." mr. holton looked up suddenly. "what do you mean, 'go on'?" he asked suspiciously. "oh, nothing." joe made an attempt to be casual. the naturalists chuckled. "nothing, huh?" laughed mr. holton, who at the start had grasped the hidden meaning in joe's words. "you weren't by any chance thinking of another expedition going to africa, were you?" joe started. he wondered how his chum's father had caught on so quickly. "you're a mind reader, if there ever was one," the youth grinned. "but how in the dickens did you get wise?" "you just told me," mr. holton answered whimsically. "i'm a mind reader." "come out of it, dad." bob was becoming impatient. "cut out this stalling. is there going to be an expedition to africa?" "what do you think?" "how are we to know?" countered bob. "we're not the head naturalists." "listen to that, howard," teased mr. lewis. "not the _head_ naturalists! it beats all how these young squirts get ideas in their heads that they're actually scientists. why, they----" "all right, we take it back." bob was tiring of getting nowhere. "once more, is there going to be an expedition to africa?" "want to know, do you?" his father persisted. "what for?" "oh-h, nothing! come on, joe. we might as well give it up as a bad job." the youths turned to leave for their room, but mr. lewis called them back. "i'll tell you," he said seriously. "we may go to africa. there's a chance that we will. but there is also a very big chance that we won't. we just wanted to come out here and see this thompson about the strange animals he saw. whether we go will depend on how the museum heads look at it. now, are you satisfied?" "sure," answered bob with a smile. "when, if you decide to go, will we leave?" "there you go with that 'we' stuff," came from mr. holton. "aren't you fellows taking a lot for granted?" "oh, i don't know," returned joe. "judging from the past we're not. you will take bob and me along, won't you? that is, of course, if you go." "we can't say just now," his father returned. "it might be arranged. all that can be decided later." "hurrah for africa!" cried bob with enthusiasm. "we'll----" he stopped quickly, as he happened to glance at a small clock that was on the dresser. "past eight!" he cried. "wow! we've got to be in chinatown by nine!" chapter ii a grim discovery "chinatown!" repeated bob's father, while mr. lewis looked up quickly. "yes," answered joe. "that is, i suppose we should go there. here's the address. i jotted it down while we were in the street car coming to the hotel." "but--but what's it all about?" asked mr. holton, taking the slip of paper joe handed him. he added: "yes, it's in chinatown. grant avenue." "it happened this way," explained bob. "joe and i got a chinaman out of an automobile he turned over. he asked us to come and see him tonight at nine, and we told him we'd be there. that's all there is to it." "you say he turned his car over?" queried mr. lewis. "was he hurt?" "luckily not," returned bob. "but it was a pretty narrow escape. big wonder he wasn't killed." there was a short silence. neither of the men liked the prospect of the youths going to the oriental settlement at that late hour. "don't you think it's rather dangerous?" inquired mr. lewis. "'most anything might happen at such a late hour." "i don't see why it should be," returned his son. "bob and i are old enough to take care of ourselves. if we could come safely out of the jungles of brazil, the sahara, and the andes, we surely ought to be able to watch ourselves here in america." "well, maybe so. chinatown, after all, isn't like it used to be," admitted mr. holton. "but be on the lookout. any idea what time you'll be back?" bob shook his head. "we won't stay any longer than we have to," he assured him. "and don't worry. we'll be all right." the chums left the hotel without delay. they realized that they had barely a half hour to get to the chinaman's shop, and they knew this would mean some hustling. "the trouble is," said joe, "we're too near grant avenue to take a street car and too far away to walk." "that is a problem," laughed bob. "but if we hurry i think we'll get there in time." the boys hastened down busy market street in the direction of the ferry building, amid the crowd of pleasure seekers. as they walked, they took in the sights of the great city. lights, lights. tall buildings. four rows of street cars. an ever-moving procession of pedestrians. this was san francisco. it did not take the two long to reach grant avenue, and up this they turned. then their eyes were given another treat. northward for many blocks stretched a line on both sides of the street of pagoda-like structures that were distinctly oriental. many of the shops displayed colorful electric signs, often in chinese. on the sidewalks were more than a few people of the yellow race. "so this is chinatown." bob was taking in the scene with interest. "sure is different," observed joe. "even new york doesn't have anything quite like this." the youths walked on until they came to a little shop that exhibited the words "pong lee co." here they stopped. "this must be the place," said joe. "at any rate, it has the same street number that i have down on this paper." "o. k. let's go in." as the boys make their way through the curious doorway, let us have a word about them and their experiences up to the present, as related in the preceding volumes of _the exploration series_. bob, usually the leader of the two, was a shade over six feet tall, with huge, powerful shoulders that were now bronzed from his life in the open. his bright blue eyes and regular features displayed a frank, open disposition that won favor with everyone. joe, about the same age, was of medium size, with a dark complexion that was now still further darkened by the tropical sun. he was of much lighter build than his friend, but was tough and wiry. he seldom started a task without finishing it. the chums lived next door to each other in washington, d.c., where their fathers were employed as naturalists by a large museum. much to their delight the boys were permitted to accompany their fathers to the jungles of brazil, where they encountered wild animals and treacherous natives. their thrilling experiences on this expedition are told in the first volume, entitled _lost in the wilds of brazil_. a little later, when they had graduated from high school, they left for another little-known region--the sahara desert. here they endured terrible sand storms, went for days without water, and fought hostile arabs. these and many more adventures are related in the volume _captured by the arabs_. scarcely had the chums and their elders returned from northern africa when they were given another opportunity to penetrate the unknown. in the andes mountains of south america they had still more exciting experiences. how they were guided by an old scientist along a narrow secret trail and met with not a few breath-taking adventures is told in the third volume, entitled _secrets of the andes_. back in america, the youths were making preparations to enter college the coming fall, when their fathers announced that they were going to san francisco to see a naturalist, thompson, of whom something has been said. bob and joe asked to go along, and the request was granted. now, as we return to the youths, we see that they are facing a small chinaman, the man they had met earlier in the evening. "ah, i glad to see you," he said, recognizing them at once. "come. we go back to room behind store." the chums followed their host through the shop, noting carefully the wares for sale. those wares were a motley mixture, including everything from bottled herbs to chinese adding machines. never before had the boys been so interested in a store. they found themselves lagging behind the man to examine the many objects peculiar to the oriental. at the rear of the building, separated from the shop by a queer curtain, was a little room. here it was apparent that the chinaman, pong lee, lived. "sitee down," he directed his visitors, pointing to two crude chairs. "i want talk with you." the boys did as told, wondering what was meant. after a short silence the little man continued. "you did me gleat good--gettee me out of upset machine," he began. "for that i want give you something to bling you much good luck." "good luck?" repeated bob wonderingly, and then watched the chinaman walk over to a tall cabinet in the corner of the room. the latter opened a drawer, looked about carefully to see that no one other than the boys was looking at him, and then took out something. "here," he said, unfastening the lid of a tiny box, "are two good luck rings. i want you wear them--all tlime. they bling you much good luck. wear them and you will keepee away flom all evil." he handed the boys each a grotesque ring, which was engraved in many queer oriental figures. bob's ring was particularly odd. on it were depicted two curious dragons, one of which was spouting fire. "why--thank you very much." joe was delighted. of course, he had no faith in the charm the ring was supposed to have possessed, but he appreciated it as a rare piece of chinese jewelry. "you velly welcome," pong lee said. "but there is a secret about those rings. you must know." "a secret?" bob leaned forward in his chair. his friend looked up interestedly. "bleeg secret," pong lee answered, nodding vigorously. "you must guard those rings velly close. there are much men after them." "you mean someone else wants to get these?" asked joe, intensely interested. "yes. much men want them. i have gleat many more. i not tell how i get them. but i say for you to watch them close. they worth much money." "what do these people want with them?" inquired joe. "are they so valuable as all that?" pong lee nodded. "they worth gleat deal," he said. "much times men come in here after them. they know i have a velly lot in little box. but i play tlick on them. they not find rings. i keep them hid--where no man find them. moy ling--he one of dangerous people. he keel you queek if he gettee chance, yes. you guard rings. they bling you much good luck." he arose and walked over to the corner of the room. the youths looked at each other. they had been greatly impressed with what the little man had said. "what do you think of it all?" asked joe in a low voice. "it's a mystery to me. wish he'd tell us where he got the rings. i'm curious to know." suddenly joe sat up with a start. his eyes were fixed on the curious curtain that separated this room from the store. bob's eyes followed those of his chum. "that curtain--it moved!" whispered joe, a queer feeling of fear creeping down his spine. "there's somebody hiding there. maybe it's one of those fellows that want these rings." "i'm going out there." bob had gained his feet. "no, don't!" his friend pleaded. "they might shoot you--or maybe do worse." bob hesitated. he finally decided to remain where he was. "but if that guy wants these rings, he'll get fooled," the youth said decisively. "we'll----" he was interrupted by pong lee, who had returned to his chair. the chinaman was not aware of what had happened. "do you have anyone else working in the store?" asked bob, his eyes still on the curtain. "no one else but me, pong lee, no. why you ask?" "well," bob faltered, his voice lowering to a whisper, "there--there's someone in there, near the curtain. i don't know who it is. looked like they were listening to us." pong lee was panting. his eyes were wild with fury. "the rings!" he cried. "it is someone after the rings! they will keel us!" "not if we can help it they won't," bob said grimly. "they----" he stopped suddenly as he noticed a pistol in pong lee's hand. how the man had produced the weapon so quickly he never knew. "what are you going to do?" asked joe. "better not go out there. it isn't safe." the chinaman, paying no attention to the warning, slipped silently over to the end of the curtain, near the wall. his little mouth was rigid; his eyes glared. the gun he held in readiness. the curtain he pulled back so slowly that only the movement of the cloth was not noticeable. bob and joe, annoyed by the suspense, waited breathlessly. chapter iii good news when he had made an opening barely large enough to see into the store, pong lee stepped forward and peered out, holding the pistol with a grip of steel. for the first time bob and joe saw how dangerous this harmless-looking chinaman could become. they were indeed glad he was their friend and not their enemy. bob cautiously glided over beside the chinaman, although well aware of the grave danger. the youth looked through the opening, and then his jaw dropped. there, running rapidly but quietly toward the door, was a tall, slim oriental, a plait of black hair reaching halfway down his back. it was evident that he knew he had been discovered, for he ran in desperation. _bang! bang!_ pong lee's pistol spoke twice in rapid succession but without result. the intruder escaped unharmed. the moment he disappeared through the doorway, pong lee dashed out into the room. "we must shoot him!" cried the little chinaman, reaching the outside. bob, hesitating to follow because of the peril, watched closely until pong lee was out of sight. joe too had parted the curtain to see what was going on. they heard several pistol shots, but no other noise followed. apparently pong lee's aim was not true. a moment later the chinaman returned, holding the smoking weapon. "gone, yes." pong lee was facing the boys. "man he leave queek. i not gave a chance to shoot him." "he sure went out of the store quickly," commented bob. "must have been barefooted or something." the remark provoked a smile from joe, but not from the chinaman. that the latter was still greatly worried was clear to the youths. had the invader, whoever he was, seen where the valuable jewels were kept? did he intend to return later? pong lee's mind was in a whirl. he felt that it would be necessary to find another hiding place for the valuables, one that could not be located by anyone. "i should think this fellow, or someone else, would come in and make you tell them where you keep this stuff," remarked joe. "even threaten to kill you if you didn't tell." the oriental shook his head. "they know i not tellee, even if i get killed," he explained. "that do them no good, no." "then you ought to feel fairly safe," laughed bob. "your life isn't in any great danger, anyway. do you wear any of the jewelry?" "i keepee good luck ring on finger all tlime," pong lee returned. "only once i had bleeg excitement." "how was that?" asked joe. "i was knocked down by a man that he want ring. i get run flom him. he thlow hatchet at me. it miss my head by many few parts of inches." "a close shave, all right," said bob grimly. "here's hoping joe and i don't have such an experience tonight." the youths remained in the building for nearly an hour talking with the amiable chinaman. then, as they realized that it was past ten, they departed, after having again thanked the man for the rings. while still in that vicinity they remained quiet, slinking along like wolves. they feared all too much that the sinister moy ling, of whom pong lee spoke, might cause them trouble. but as time passed they lost their apprehension and became their natural selves again. thus far no oriental had stopped them. "i had a hunch that chink wanted to give us something," remarked bob, breaking the silence. "but of course i had no idea what it would be." "wouldn't doubt that these rings are really worth a lot," joe said. "you don't mean they'll actually bring us good luck?" asked bob, very much amused. "not that," was the answer. "i mean worth something in money. pong lee said they were. do you suppose they're gold?" "more than i know. i'm not going to sell mine, though. i'd rather keep it to remember this experience with pong lee." "i'll bet you really think it will bring good luck," teased joe. "quit your kidding. i'm not unusually smart, but i've got more sense than to believe that." there was a general laugh. "do you know," began joe, a little later, "i'm beginning to wonder something." bob glanced up expectantly. "pong lee said there is a big secret connected with those rings," joe resumed. "that's right. he did." "then--there's a chance that they are worth more than their actual gold value. get my point?" bob's face lightened. "golly, joe. you may be right. but what could the secret be?" "that's the mystery of it all. maybe," joe continued, struck with a sudden thought, "there's a piece of paper or something concealed in the rings. i'm going to find out. it's light here under this street lamp." "don't, you sap!" cried bob, whirling his friend around. "why, there might be a dozen chinks spying on us. it would about be our finish if you'd go to examining that ring here at this late hour." joe laughed sheepishly. "i must be crazy," he smiled. "funny, but i never thought of that. we'll wait till we get back to the hotel." although it was late, the friends walked idly along grant avenue, desiring to see everything that had previously escaped their eyes. they wanted to "go off the beaten path," as joe expressed it, to see a part of chinatown that was not spoiled by the occidental. but as it was late they knew this could not be done. the chums finally came to market street and turned toward the hotel, walking along silently. the naturalists looked up quickly as the boys entered. they regarded the latter quizzically. "we're anxious to know just what that chinaman wanted of you," said mr. lewis with a smile. "sit down and tell us." bob removed the good luck ring from his finger. he passed it to mr. lewis. "he just wanted to reward us for getting him out of that wrecked automobile," bob explained. "gave us rings. and, say, there's some secret connected with them. he wouldn't tell us, and we haven't been able to find out." "hmm." joe's father examined the ring eagerly while mr. holton looked over joe's. "no secret openings in them, are there?" inquired bob. "apparently not," his father returned. "each has a lot of chinese letters and figures on it, though. perhaps if you knew what they mean you could solve the mystery." joe yawned and stretched. "whatever it is, i'm not going to stay up any longer to find out, even if i could," he said. without further discussion all retired, eager to get all the sleep the night would afford them. late the next morning, bob and joe were awakened by their fathers. "whazzamatter?" demanded bob drowsily. "we have some news for you," mr. holton said, his eyes twinkling. "thought maybe you'd like to hear it." all the sleep knocked out of them, the chums sat up quickly, wondering what was meant. chapter iv seeing the sights "do you remember what we said yesterday about making an expedition to africa?" asked mr. lewis as the youths sat up in bed expectantly. "why--you said you might go," bob answered. "well, there isn't going to be any 'might' in it," mr. lewis said. "we're going." the youths bounded out of bed in wild excitement. "you mean we're actually going to africa?" cried joe, falling over himself in enthusiasm. the naturalists laughed significantly. "we're not certain how that 'we' will work out," chuckled mr. holton. "but we're almost sure of one thing: ben [mr. lewis] and i are going. how many more will make up the expedition we haven't decided as yet. in fact, it was only this morning that we came to a conclusion." "oh, you've got to take joe and me," bob begged. "we always have wanted to explore in the dark continent. we're plenty old enough to take care of ourselves. you see how we made short work of dangerous wild animals in the andes and in brazil. well, we could do the same with lions and elephants." "don't be too sure of that," said his father gravely but with twinkling eyes. "there's scarcely anything worse than a charging elephant." "just the same, we'd take care of the situation," said bob boastfully. "they wouldn't stand much chance before the lewis-holton expedition. why we'd mow 'em down right and left. but seriously, dad, mr. lewis, why can't joe and i go with you?" "we'd like to have you," his father assured him. "but of course you'll have to reckon with your mothers. suppose," he went on, "we don't say anything more about this matter until we get back to washington. you see, there's a chance that the museum heads will have something else for us to do. in that case, we won't go." "i'm betting you will," smiled joe, who felt there was a big chance of an expedition. "perhaps," smiled mr. holton. "right now, though, let's think of something else. we want to leave for washington tomorrow morning. we'd go today if ben and i didn't have some more business to look after." "had breakfast yet?" inquired joe. "breakfast? you mean lunch?" mr. lewis laughed. "boys, in case you don't know it, it's nearly ten o'clock." "wow!" cried bob. "if joe and i get to see any more of old san francisco we'll have to do some hustling." "be careful that you don't get in any danger. don't be carried away on some ship," mr. holton said, grinning. "and now," he added, "we're leaving. be back about three this afternoon. take care of yourselves, boys. and be careful." "we will. so long, mr. lewis, dad." the youths had been dressing during the conversation with their fathers, and now they were ready to get breakfast. after the meal, they would start out to see more of san francisco and perhaps visit other cities across the bay. a half hour later they were walking down market street toward the ferry building, having decided to see the busy waterfront. it was no short distance to their destination, but they moved rapidly, dodging in and out among the crowd of shoppers. they were so interested in the sights about them that they found themselves almost without knowing it at the ferry building. "now let's go around to the docks," suggested bob. "i'd like to see the boats coming in from the orient." "ought to see some," joe said. "there are a lot of steamship lines here." directly in back of the building were the ferry slips. bob and joe stopped a few minutes to watch passengers board a boat to oakland. then they continued around to the docks, where scores of vessels were anchored. beside one dock was a huge liner almost ready to embark for honolulu. the gangplank was being pulled in, ropes were loosened, and a general scene of excitement prevailed. relatives and friends of the leavetakers waved hearty farewells as, with long blasts of the whistle, the ship slowly left the wharf. bob and joe watched closely as it steamed majestically out into the blue pacific. not far out there was the golden gate. beyond this was the orient, with all its lure, its beckoning. "i sure would give a lot to sail out on the pacific," sighed bob, turning and walking on with his chum. away on around embarcadero street the boys came to fishermen's wharf, where their eyes met with a sight slightly different. at a miniature harbor were scores of italian fishing vessels. their crew were busily engaged in preparing the boats for sailing, or in unloading the huge cargoes of fish. "look over here," called joe. "they're selling fresh crab sandwiches. let's get some." "o.k. what do they taste like?" the chums soon found out. a short, exceedingly fat man who always smiled served them with tempting steaming sandwiches in return for a meager sum. after the eventful morning they tasted delicious. as they ate, bob and joe walked back down past the docks, their eyes always ready to single out the unusual. although they had been in many interesting cities, never had they been more captivated than now. soon their attention was attracted by a coarse whistle, and looking around they saw a large freighter steaming up to the dock. ordinarily the boys would have paid little or no attention to the ship, for they had often watched vessels arriving and departing. but this time they looked up in wonder. the freighter was listing badly to starboard and looked as though it were partly filled with water. how it kept from going over on its side was a puzzle to the chums. when the ship had entered the dock and was moored by several men who stood by waiting, the gangplank was lowered, and the captain walked down, followed by others of the crew. one of the men paused at the foot of the gangplank, and joe took advantage of the opportunity. "what was the trouble?" the youth asked, desiring to know what misfortune had befallen the ship. "struck a derelict," was the reply. "it was an old clipper that was about rotted through. we can't see yet how it got through the hull, but it did." "but how did it happen that your ship didn't sink?" joe inquired, his curiosity thoroughly aroused. the sailor laughed. "be pretty hard to sink the _southern cross_," he said. "she's got watertight compartments. when she gets a leak, all we have to do is close up the doors. it----hullo, red. let's get goin'." with another of the crew, for whom he had been waiting, the seaman left the youths and moved on over to the dock. bob and joe stood for some time looking at the unfortunate vessel. then, as nothing of further interest happened, they walked on around the harbor, absorbed in thought. the last few days had indeed been eventful to the chums. what did the future hold in store? chapter v a welcome announcement "well, boys, we're leaving san francisco tomorrow," said mr. lewis as he greeted the chums late that afternoon. "i'll be glad to get back to washington," remarked bob. "of course, i've had a good time here--saw a lot of interesting sights and the like. but, after all----" "there's no place quite like home," chimed in his father with a smile. "especially with a trip to africa in prospect," bob added. "ah! that accounts for your ardent desire to leave, does it?" asked mr. lewis. "i wondered why you made that remark about wanting to get back to washington." bob and joe smiled. "that partly accounts for it," came from joe. "but, honestly, dad, you don't blame us, do you?" the youth hoped to corner his father, but the latter was more clever than he had imagined. "not in the least," mr. lewis answered quickly. "i would want to go to africa if i were you." again the boys found themselves "stumped," and again they were forced to drop the matter regarding the expedition to the dark continent. they could only hope for the best, remarked bob as that night he retired. early the next morning the chums and their fathers were up making preparations for the journey across the continent. they had everything in readiness by eight o'clock. in the hotel garage they were shown to mr. holton's sedan. a porter had followed them with their grips, which were placed in the car's trunk. the chums gazed out fondly at the last views they got of san francisco. then they settled themselves down for the long ride. nothing of significance happened during the journey, and at last, after stops had been made at denver, kansas city, and a small city in kentucky, they pulled into washington. at their homes, which were located next door to each other, the four received a warm welcome from the youths' mothers, joe's sister, and bob's small brother. "i sure enjoyed our stay in san francisco," remarked bob that evening, as he sat on the porch with his father and chum. "especially right at this time," put in joe. "i'm glad to get back." "why right at this time?" inquired mr. holton. "because," explained joe, "there's a circus in town. and as i haven't been to a circus for quite a while, i'm going. how about you, bob?" "it's a go," said bob at once. "let's you and i drive over tomorrow in my new coupã©. it's a pip, all right." "what, the circus, or the car?" grinned mr. holton. "well, i don't know about the circus," said bob. "but i know the car is. anyway, i'd like to take a look at wild animals that were brought from africa. lions, leopards, and the like. don't you and mr. lewis want to go, dad? we can put you in the rumble seat." "rumble seat, huh? hmm. i'd want better service than that." the naturalist viewed his son critically though with twinkling eyes. "no, we men won't go to the circus," he added with a grin. "but you boys can." "listen to that!" cried bob, squaring his powerful shoulders. "i guess you men enjoy it about as much as anybody does. now, you might," he went on, struck with a sudden thought, "take tommy. of course, he'd like it. that would give you an excuse to go." "maybe your little brother would rather play baseball," suggested mr. holton. "he finds that interesting now, you know." "nix," countered bob. "tommy's all for a circus. he'd rather see the wild animals than eat. and to tell the truth, dad," he added mischievously, "you're about the same way. don't deny it, now." mr. holton smiled. "i see you're putting me up a tree," he said. "but say!"--in a tone of dismay--"come to think of it, tommy is going to baltimore with his mother tomorrow." the naturalist's face was a perfect picture of disappointment. bob and joe burst out in loud laughter, and bob gave his father a shove. "now who can you take?" bob chuckled, very much amused at mr. holton's plight. "that settles it," the naturalist said. "ben and i won't go. we have some work in the museum that must be attended to, anyway." bob gave his father an odd glance, and then, at a call of "dinner," the little party disbanded. the circus was on its second day in the city, and because of several unusual attractions was receiving considerable attention. one thing being featured was an immense gorilla which had just recently been brought from western africa. it was supposedly the largest specimen in captivity. the next morning bob and joe left for the circus grounds. there they found that a large crowd had already gathered to gain admittance. "suppose we go to the menagerie tent first," suggested bob. "we have some time yet before the performance opens. i want to take a look at that big gorilla." "and if what we've heard is true, he's a whopper." this was no exaggeration, as the chums found a little later. the big ape seemed the very personification of power. his huge chest was several times as big as a man's. his long large arms looked capable of crushing an enemy into a shapeless mass. the little beady eyes were defiant, moving from one to another of the spectators. "how would you like to meet that fellow in a wrestling match?" said bob with a laugh. joe smiled unwillingly. "he wouldn't leave a grease spot of you," he said. "fifteen or twenty champion wrestlers wouldn't have the slightest chance in the world with him." there was a far-away look in bob's eyes, which joe noticed as he happened to turn about. "what's got into you?" the latter asked. "you look like a great scientist that's just made a wonderful discovery." bob roused himself and laughed. "i was just thinking," he said. "about what?" "africa. gorillas like this fellow here. lions. wild elephants. tall forest giants. adventure." "wow!" cried joe. "you'll have me running around in circles. you know," he went on more seriously, "it's up to us to get our dads in the notion of going to africa very soon now. and we'll have to make them let us go along. they----" he stopped abruptly and smiled sheepishly as he caught sight of two men standing beside him. those men were none other than mr. lewis and mr. holton. "what th----" cried bob, who had also seen. "didn't expect to find us here, did you?" asked mr. holton with a grin. "and you said you weren't coming!" roared bob. he looked about. "tommy didn't come," his father said. "he went with his mother. but," with a glance at mr. lewis, "ben and i decided to take a look at this whale of a gorilla here. what do you think of him, boys?" "biggest i've ever seen," came from joe. "wonder how he was captured." "it wasn't an easy job," said mr. lewis. "i once saw natives in africa capture a gorilla. was in the mountains of the moon. they used a peculiar trap consisting of a circular hole in the ground. when the animal fell into the hole, a noose was tightened around its neck." "you say you were there?" asked bob. "how long ago has it been?" "a good many years--four, to be exact. howard and i went together on a big expedition. we brought back several unusual specimens of animal life." "then," began bob with a smile, "you'll probably go again in the next few days, won't you? back in san francisco you said you were going." mr. lewis and mr. holton exchanged amused glances. "shall we tell them, ben?" asked bob's father. "tell us what?" cried joe, sensing that something was in the wind. "simply that we're leaving for africa friday," was the quiet answer from mr. lewis. chapter vi the business card at mr. lewis's words, bob and joe stood mouth agape. they stared at the naturalist for several seconds in sheer surprise. then they were overcome with joy. "you're not kidding, are you?" cried bob, finally managing to utter the words. "not a bit," said mr. lewis. "in fact, as soon as we put the proposed expedition before the museum heads, they were captivated by the idea. said they greatly desired new specimens from africa, and if we could get them it would be perfectly all right. they're going to fix everything up for us." "man alive!" cried joe. "it'll be a wonderful opportunity. of course," he went on, "there's a chance that bob and i may go with you, isn't there?" "let's not discuss that matter just now," mr. holton said. "of course, you know there are others besides ben and i who have a say. but we'll give it a thought, boys." "and now we're off for the museum," announced joe's father. "aren't you going to stay for the circus performance?" asked bob in some surprise. "really we haven't the time, son," answered mr. holton. "with this african mission on our hands we'll have to do some hustling. we just came down here to take a look at this big gorilla. well, we'll see you later, boys. be good." with this the naturalists took their leave, while their sons glanced at each other. "a trip to africa!" cried bob joyfully. he picked his chum up and danced around with him in happiness. "better cut this stuff out," advised joe. "as soon as you calm down a little you'll lose some of that excess strength--and then maybe you'll let me drop." bob released his chum and stopped his dance of joy, as he noticed that people were beginning to trickle into the tent. but his face retained its look of exultation. the boys still had some time before the performance was to start and amused themselves by looking about the grounds. later, in the main tent, the chums enjoyed the show immensely. perhaps, however, as bob said, they could have enjoyed it still more had they not been so absorbed in the coming expedition to africa. "we'll just have to go with you," pleaded joe when the two had gone to the museum to join their fathers. "why, you know it wouldn't be complete without us." "perhaps not," came from mr. lewis, "although we hadn't thought of it in that light." "you know we can take care of ourselves," bob defended himself and his friend. "and we're both good shots. remember the time when we potted off those gazelles on the sahara?" "sure thing," said mr. holton, nodding. "and you've brought us many other valuable specimens, too. but to tell the truth, boys, we're not anxious for you to go with us this time. you see, we have orders to shoot some very dangerous game. lions, rhinos, buffaloes, and the like." "better and better!" exclaimed bob, his eyes brightening still more. "just where do you intend to explore?" "in the middle of the congo basin," returned his father. "our ship will take us to mombasa. from there we'll take a train----" "train?" interrupted joe, greatly puzzled. "do they have trains in the heart of africa?" "not exactly in the heart of africa," mr. holton answered. "but there is a railroad running from mombasa to lake victoria. as i was saying, we'll board a train and go as far as it will carry us. then we'll have to organize a safari." "exactly what is that?" inquired bob. "i've often heard the term, but never was quite clear about its meaning." "safari means practically the same as expedition," mr. lewis explained. "it is an arabic term that is used quite frequently in africa. a safari is composed of the explorers, the native police, bearers, and the like. it may vary from just a few people to several hundred. in our case, however, we won't need a large number of carriers. if we do need more, we can engage them in the jungle to carry our specimens back to the coast. the money that they charge is only a very meager amount." "just what animals do you want especially to bag?" asked bob. "of course, you want lions, don't you?" "lions, yes," returned his father. "and other dangerous game. but we also want to investigate reports of several strange animals that are at present generally unknown. whether we'll find them we have yet to see--if nothing with sharp teeth stops us," he added with a smile. "nothing will," said bob conclusively. "but just what is the most dangerous game of africa?" the naturalists glanced at each other. "better not ask that question, or you'll start a heated debate," laughed mr. lewis. "howard and i are very much in disagreement about it." "why?" persisted bob. "you father is inclined to place the rhino as the most dangerous, while i would say the buffalo comes first. but to settle the argument, both are bad enough when they're after you." "but what about the lion?" demanded joe. "isn't he dangerous?" "very much so," answered mr. holton. "however, he isn't considered anything like the two animals that ben mentioned. that doesn't mean, though, that it's advisable to go out and pick a quarrel with the king of beasts," he added whimsically. "let me get a map of africa, boys," said joe's father, rising. "then we can see exactly where we intend to explore." he went over to a bookcase in a corner of the office, returning a moment later with a large cloth map of the dark continent. but at that moment the telephone rang, and mr. holton stepped over to answer it. a few seconds later he uttered a cry of surprise. his brow wrinkled, and his face took on a look of dismay. "why, it can't be!" he cried excitedly. "stolen! gone!" at the scientist's ominous words mr. lewis looked up in wonder. the boys too listened intently. they were growing impatient when mr. holton again spoke. "stay where you are," he directed the person at the other end of the line. "we'll meet you at once." with these words he hung up and turned to the others. "those specimens that we bought from thompson in chicago--they've been stolen!" he explained in a worried voice. "what!" cried mr. lewis angrily. "do you mean that?" "every word of it," was the response. "we must go at once. if we get there in time we may be able to find the culprit." the naturalists grabbed their hats and dashed out of the office and through the building to the outside. bob and joe followed them, although without knowing where they were going. all got in mr. holton's car, which was parked near the museum. "now we must hurry," bob's father said, starting the engine. "the robbery took place but a short time ago, and there is a chance that we can overtake the thief." "weren't the specimens covered by insurance?" inquired joe. mr. lewis shook his head. "but even if they were," the naturalist said, "this is a case where insurance could not replace the loss. such rare birds and animals as those can be procured only with great patience and labor under a hot sun. you fellows know what a job it is to stalk wild animals. and it isn't likely that we'll find others like them in africa." with a roar and a rush the automobile shot out into the street and was soon caught in the midst of heavy traffic. although mr. holton greatly desired to travel at a rapid pace, he found it impossible to do so. "where are we going?" asked bob. "we've been so interested in the robbery itself that joe and i haven't thought to inquire where the specimens were when they were stolen." "in a railroad freight yard," returned his father. "the museum sent one of its trucks after them as soon as they arrived. i don't have the details about the happening, but the box of specimens must have been stolen while the truck driver was not around. apparently the robber was familiar with the contents of the box. perhaps he had carefully planned the theft in advance. heard us talking about the specimens, maybe." "well, he won't get away with it if we can help it," said bob with determination. "we'll catch him somehow." "let's hope you're right," mr. holton said gravely as he pushed the accelerator still nearer to the floorboard. after what seemed like hours they pulled up at their destination--a railroad freight yard. inside the main building they found the truck driver awaiting them, on his face a look of deep anxiety. his features relaxed a little as he caught sight of the two naturalists. mr. lewis at once demanded an account of what had happened and urged the man to relate every detail. the driver explained that he had loaded the box of specimens on the truck and, not doubting that they would be safe, had gone into the freight office for a brief stay. when he returned to the truck, he found, to his astonishment, that the box was gone. it was only then that he fully realized what had happened. "if i'd only seen the guy that took them we might catch him," he finished. the scientists were greatly vexed at the driver for not taking better care of such valuable goods, but they managed to keep their temper. they walked out to the truck to discover, if possible, the thief's means of escape. "he probably had another automobile waiting to take those specimens," remarked joe. "maybe we can find its tracks. the ground here is soft after the recent rain." a careful survey of the roadway was not in vain, for soon they saw wide tracks of automobile tires which possessed a very odd tread. "here's a clue, anyway," said mr. holton. "every little thing counts, you know." bob had gone a piece toward the street. now he came running toward the others. "look!" he cried excitedly. "i've found something. let's see what it is." chapter vii the thief turns up as the others crowded around him, bob held up a small business card. it had apparently been dropped near the museum's truck, perhaps by the thief himself. on it was printed the name thomas jordan. "thomas jordan!" exclaimed mr. lewis, reaching for the card. "why, he's a wealthy sportsman. practically everybody has heard of him. of course it couldn't have been he that stole those specimens." bob's father agreed with him. "scarcely anybody is more respected," he said. "you say he's a sportsman, huh?" said joe thoughtfully. "what does he do?" "a lawyer by profession," mr. lewis returned. "but in addition he heads a private museum, merely as a hobby, i guess. has a very wide collection of fauna from all parts of the world. he charges a small admission fee. makes a lot of money at it." "where does he get his specimens?" inquired joe. mr. lewis looked puzzled for a moment. "why, from different sources," the naturalist replied. "goes after some occasionally, buys some--" "buys some, does he?" joe still spoke in a very thoughtful voice. "then might it not be possible that he will buy those that were stolen--get them from the thief, i mean?" "by george!" exclaimed mr. holton, his eyes brightening. "you may be right, joe. strange that none of the rest of us thought of that now. yes, it's quite possible for such a thing to happen. perhaps the thief has already made arrangements with this mr. jordan to sell him the specimens." "i suggest that we hunt up jordan immediately," came from mr. lewis. "but i refuse to think that he had a part in the robbery." "i don't think so either," put in bob. "from what i've heard, he's considered one of the leading citizens. but it's possible that the thief could disguise himself as a dealer in wild animals and easily sell them to jordan." "chances are that is what will happen, if we do not interfere," mr. lewis said. "so i believe we should look up this fellow at once." bob's father, having instructed the truck driver to return to the museum, led the way to his car. he desired to lose no time in calling on mr. jordan, who must be informed of the theft in time to prevent the sale of the stolen specimens. the object of their remarks lived in a very fashionable residential section, which was at the very edge of the city. his private museum was located but a few squares from his home. "if we can't find him one place, perhaps we can another," said bob. "that is, if he hasn't left the city." "in that case we'll have as good a chance to see him first as the thief," laughed joe. some time later the four pulled up in front of a spacious home in an exclusive residential district. they left the car and moved up to the house. a butler took the card mr. lewis handed him, standing aside a moment later for them to go in. then, after taking their hats, he disappeared into another room. the visitors had not long to wait. they had barely taken the chairs offered them when a tall erect man walked up to them. "you are mr. jordan?" asked joe's father, rising. "yes." the naturalist introduced himself and his friends and then lost no time in getting to the point. he told of the theft in the freight yard, then of finding the attorney's card. "naturally we resolved to hunt you up," he said. "it is entirely possible that this thief has been to see you about buying specimens from him. of course, you probably did not in the least suspect him. or, if this is not the case, he got your card from some other source." mr. jordan was silent for several moments, as if in deep thought. finally he turned to the others. "i think i know the very man who stole them," he announced. "good!" cried joe impulsively. "a very well-dressed chap," the lawyer resumed, staring hard at the floor. "he came here about a month ago and said he dealt in all descriptions of specimens. but there was something about him that aroused my suspicions at once. perhaps it was the way he acted. at any rate, i didn't trust him. appeared to be one of these, ah, slick, well-dressed rascals that you see so much of. i told him i desired nothing at present but rare specimens from africa. he wore a blank look for a minute; then suddenly he gave a start and turned to me with a queer smile. 'i'll find you something,' he said. 'i think i know where i can get exactly what you want.' i gave him one of my cards." "perhaps that's the very man we're looking for," said bob. "possible, anyway. has he called you yet?" "no. but if we think correctly, he may very soon now. of course, though, he might wait till after the news of the robbery gets in the papers and has died down a bit." mr. holton shook his head. "i'm of the opinion that he will sell those specimens before the news gets in the papers," the naturalist said. "perhaps he will pick today to do it. the sooner he gets them off his hands, the better chance he'll have to get away without being found out." "suppose you give me a description of them--the specimens, i mean," mr. jordan suggested. "then, if the thief comes, i'll know at once and have him arrested." "that will be fine." mr. lewis tore out a sheet of paper from his notebook and wrote down the names of each animal included in the collection. he handed the paper to the attorney. "i shall be glad to do this for you," the latter said. "if the thief comes, i'll slip away somehow to a telephone." "we don't know how to thank you enough," mr. holton said gratefully. "in doing this you will be performing an invaluable service for the museum----" he stopped abruptly as he noticed the butler entering the room. "mr. henry overton to see you," the servant announced, as the attorney arose. mr. jordan took the card the butler handed him. he pondered for several minutes before speaking. finally he turned his gaze upon the naturalists and their sons. "gentlemen," he said with a smile, "i think the time is at hand. the thief, i believe, is here now." there were looks of surprise and astonishment on the faces of the visitors. "suppose we four hide in an adjoining room while you talk to this man," suggested bob holton. "then we can hear what's being said." "you're fairly sure the caller is the man we were talking about?" asked mr. lewis, hesitating a moment before following bob's move. "no, not sure," mr. jordan responded. "but he is a collector of wild animals. and that seems suspicious enough, doesn't it? "tell you what," he continued. "suppose you four do as suggested--hide in this room and listen in on us. if it happens that the man is someone else, no harm will have been done." the naturalists and their sons needed no urging. they hurried into the next room and hid near the entrance. there was a curtain separating them from the reception room, and all crouched near to peep through. their hearts were in their mouths when a minute later a stranger was admitted. "doesn't look much like a crook," whispered joe, as he noticed that the man was dressed handsomely. "look at his eyes, though," returned bob, also keeping his voice very low. the four listeners strained every nerve to catch what was being said in the next room. they were delighted beyond expression when they found that they could make out every word of the conversation. "i was here a good while ago," the stranger was saying. "no doubt you remember me. you told me to let you know as soon as i found some rare specimens from africa." "and you've found some?" asked mr. jordan rather impatiently. "ah, yes. you will be delighted when i tell you what they are. the rarest of the rare. mounted beautifully by one of my expert taxidermists." he opened a small black satchel which he had carried. after a few seconds of nervous fumbling he removed a small leather notebook. "here," he said, handing the book to mr. jordan. "the complete list of specimens is here. each is described carefully. all told, there are five of the most unusual wild creatures imaginable." "only five!" whispered mr. holton, appearing suddenly angered. "why, there were ten in the box that was stolen." almost at once the attorney broached the same matter. "five are all you have for sale?" he asked casually. "why, that is only a small handful, so to speak." "well, ah--" the stranger hesitated before speaking--"i might be able to secure more for you." mr. jordan looked up suddenly. "is that so?" he asked quietly. "it's rather surprising that you can have them so readily. of course"--he laughed to relieve the tension--"you don't go after them yourself, do you?" the alleged buyer and seller of specimens faltered for a brief period, but at last looked up. "these i was able to secure from a collector friend, who went on an expedition merely for the pleasure it afforded him, and not for the advancement of science." "oh, yeah?" whispered bob to his friends who were hiding like himself. "he got 'em from his 'collector friend' like i got 'em off a hot-dog stand." "no wise-cracking," grinned joe. "you might get me to laughing." the next few moments of conversation convinced the youths' fathers that the man in the adjoining room was the thief. a few descriptions of the specimens, which mr. jordan purposely read aloud, were sufficient to convict the stranger in the minds of mr. holton and mr. lewis. from then, the conversation appeared uninteresting, although bob and joe, as well as the naturalists, were anxious to see how the attorney would dispose of the stranger. "and," continued mr. jordan, "what are you asking for these five specimens?" "the small sum of a hundred dollars," was the reply. mr. jordan gasped in astonishment. only a hundred dollars for what should be worth a great deal more than that! meanwhile, in the next room, joe had decided on a plan of action. "now that we are convinced that this man is the thief, we are free to do almost anything," he began, speaking in a very low whisper. the others looked at him inquiringly. "my scheme is this," joe continued, "i'll go out----" "if you're doing anything, i'm in it with you," interrupted bob. "all right, then. we'll go out to this man's car. it's probably parked in front----" "perhaps he came on a street car," suggested mr. holton. "in that case, my plan won't work," joe said. "but if his car is out there, we'll look inside it and see if we can find anything that will tell us where he lives. then we'll come back. what do you say?" "suits me," returned bob at once. "we'll find something if there's anything to be found." "and while you fellows are gone," began mr. holton, "we'll find some way to get jordan in here to have him detain the thief as long as possible. but you be careful. there may be someone else in the car." as silently as they could, bob and joe made their way out of the room and in a roundabout manner found the front door. one glance across the spacious lawn told them that a roadster was parked at the curb. a more careful look convinced them that no one was in the car. "now's our chance," said joe, leading the way out to the street. "of course, this automobile might belong to someone else, but the chances are that it is owned--or at least run--by the man in the house." with a cautious look over their shoulders, the chums walked up to the parked car. chapter viii after the specimens "there should be a certificate of title somewhere," said joe lewis, as he peered inside the parked automobile. "or if there isn't, maybe there's a letter or something else that has his name and address on it." "here's a driver's license," announced bob, who had reached into the pocket of the door. "issued to harry walker, and the address is rural route. let's see the description. height, five feet-eight; weight, one hundred-forty; eyes, brown; hair, black; age, fifty-one." "that's the thief, all right," said joe conclusively. "it fits him to a t." "but the name," argued bob. "how do you figure _that_ out? the fellow we think is the thief gave his name as henry overton, while this driver's license has the name harry walker." "maybe that was only an alias, or false name," suggested joe. "he could easily have changed that. but what do we do now, bob?" "more than i know. what do you suggest?" "suppose we go back in jordan's house and see our dads. we'll have to hurry, though, or this thief will beat us to it." "to what?" "as i was saying," resumed joe, "we'll go back and get our dads, and the four of us can go out to this thief's house and be there when he gets there." "then what?" "easy enough. we'll arrest him and make him get the stolen specimens." "but can we do it?" demanded bob. "will we be allowed to?" "sure. we've got the goods on him, haven't we? we know that the specimens that mr. jordan read off are the stolen ones, don't we?" "all right. lead the way." as quickly as they could, bob and joe went back in the house through a rear entrance. then quietly they found the room in which mr. holton and mr. lewis were hiding. the boys found their fathers waiting anxiously. the frown on their faces gave way to a smile as they caught sight of their sons. "what did you find?" inquired joe's father. bob told of their desire to drive to the thief's residence before the man could himself do so. "i'm willing," said mr. lewis, who was more than anxious to recover the stolen specimens. "while on our way we'll stop at a police station and pick up an officer. i'd sort of hate to carry out your plan without doing that." before leaving the house, mr. holton instructed the butler to inform mr. jordan of where they had gone. then, with his son and friends, he hurried out to his car. mr. lewis knew exactly where to find the residence of the thief, or at least the address that was on the driver's license. "it is several miles from here, but we'll probably have a good start ahead of the thief," joe's father said, as the automobile was driven out into a main traffic artery. before the four left the city limits, they stopped at a police station and secured the services of an officer. now, with the protection of the law, they felt safe to continue the venture. a half hour's ride over a narrow country road brought them to a large house set back in a wide lawn. "this must be the place," observed mr. holton, bringing the car to a standstill. "i wonder if anyone is at home?" "better not leave the machine here," warned the policeman. "if the guy we're after should see it, he probably would not show up for us to catch him. drive it farther toward the house, out of sight of the road." "glad you reminded me," mr. holton said, and drove still farther on. all stepped out and made their way over the wide lawn. as a precaution against possible danger, the officer kept a ready hand on his revolver. "you can't tell who might be there to bump us off," he said, his eyes on the house. "there could be several more outlaws waiting there." they reached the dwelling safely, however, and then knocked on the heavy door. but either no one was there, or else they refused to admit the strangers, for the door did not open. "no use keeping this up longer," said the policeman. "we'd better hide around the side of the house and wait for the fellow we're after. feel sure he'll come here?" "we don't know," returned bob. "this may not even be where he lives. he might have stolen the car he had from someone who does live here." they took places beside the house, at a point where they could command a good view of the road and driveway. how long it would be before the thief would show up, if at all, they had not the slightest idea. they hoped, however, it would not be long, for darkness was not far off. hardly five minutes had passed when bob caught the arm of the policeman, who was nearest him. "listen!" the youth hissed. "there's a car coming. hear it?" sure enough, the faint sound of an approaching automobile was breaking the evening silence. whether the vehicle was that of the thief, the hiding forms did not know. their hopes were high, though, as the purring became louder. those hopes were not shattered, for a minute later the same car that had been parked in front of mr. jordan's estate turned in the driveway. "look!" breathed joe. "it's the man we're after, all right. he's stopping. sees our car and wonders why it's here, i guess." at word from the policeman, the four stepped out and advanced toward the man. as they went nearer, the officer displayed his revolver. "you're under arrest," he said. "throw up your hands and tell us where you put those stolen goods." the man raised his arms and moved toward them. but he refused to further comply with the command. "you are wrong--entirely wrong in your thinking," he said in a crafty voice, a faint smile coming over his face. "you have made a terrible mistake and picked out one who is innocent. i know nothing about any stolen goods." "none of your monkey business," snapped the policeman, advancing toward the man. "we've proof of your guilt and want the stuff you stole. now, get it and get it fast, or i'll be tempted to pass a .45 through your ribs!" "but i say," persisted the alleged thief, raising his voice to a high-pitched drawl, "i know nothing about what you are talking." bob advanced toward him. "what about those specimens you offered to sell to mr. jordan?" the youth demanded, never taking his eyes from the fellow. "just where did you get them? it didn't happen that you stole them out of a museum truck, did it?" "why, you----i'll knock you over that fence!" he moved toward bob, but soon decided not to carry out his threat. the policeman became even more impatient. "did you hear what i said?" he snapped, prodding the man with his revolver. "we want that stuff you stole, and we want it right now. you'd better talk!" much to the surprise of all, the man no longer denied his guilt. instead, he motioned them to follow him up to the house. whether he had been frightened by the officer's terse command, or intended to resort to some means of escape, they did not know. he produced a large bunch of keys and opened the heavy door, at the same time beckoning for his unwelcome visitors to follow. "i'll take those keys!" the policeman held out a hand. the accused man hesitated a moment, then handed them over. "what you want is in the basement," he said, as he led the way through the large room. "i will get it for you, never fear." when almost at the rear of the house, he stopped and opened a narrow door. then, switching on a light, he went down a steep flight of stairs, the others at his heels. they were in the basement, threading their way between rows of boxes, when something unexpected happened. the light suddenly went off, leaving them in total darkness. the eyes of the pursuers, unaccustomed to the blackness, could make out nothing around them. it had happened so quickly that there was a short period of fumbling about. bob holton felt a form brush past him rapidly, as if in wild haste. the youth's fist shot out and caught the form squarely with such force that he fell at once with a groan. "i got him!" bob cried. "now to switch on the light." during the next few minutes there was a wild scramble in an attempt to find the concealed switch. at last, when it became apparent that it could not be found, joe bent his efforts on finding the stairway, at the head of which joe knew there was a switch. a thrill of hope passed through him as he felt his foot touch the top step. now there would be light, the youth thought. meanwhile, the others were still vainly searching for the concealed switch. "i give it up," sighed mr. holton, straightening out hopelessly. "our only chance now is to find the switch at the head of the stairs." the words were barely out of his mouth when suddenly the light came on. bob uttered a wild cry of surprise. "for the love of pete!" he exclaimed. "i've knocked out the policeman!" chapter ix failure at bob's words of surprise, joe burst out laughing. mr. holton could not help joining him, although he tried to restrain himself. "that was about the craziest thing you ever did, son," mr. holton said, as soon as he could get his breath. "i'm afraid friend policeman will never forgive you." bob grinned. "i----wait. he's coming to." the youth bent over the prone man. "w-w-what happened, boy?" he demanded, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. "world come to an end?" his friends laughed still harder. "you--you tell--him, dad," pleaded bob, as soon as he could manage to utter the words. mr. holton sobered himself as best he could. "there's been a mistake," he said, keeping his face straight with difficulty, "a terrible mistake. it seems that bob here mistook you for the thief, he was the one that knocked you out." the officer stared for a moment at mr. holton. then his gaze fell on bob, who was wondering just what would be the outcome of his misdeed. "i'm sorry," the youth apologized. "when i felt you rushing past me so wildly i thought sure you were the thief running away. i should have made sure, though." the policeman continued to gaze at bob. "well, all i can say, boy," he began at last, still rubbing his chin, "is that you whip up a wallop of a punch. you're the first bird that's ever put pat callahan cold, and that's something. i ain't no runt, you know." "i hope you'll forgive me, sir," bob said. "i'm terribly sorry." "forget it." the officer gained his feet. "we'd better be thinking about that thief," he went on, looking about the basement, "though i suppose he's miles away from here by now." joe ran hurriedly up the basement steps and dashed on through the house. he reached the front door in but a few seconds, and then looked out over the lawn. then he uttered a cry of anger, as he caught sight of the thief running madly toward his automobile. "stop!" joe commanded, running in that direction. exerting himself to the utmost, the boy pursued the fleeing man. he was but a short distance away when the latter jumped into his car and started the engine, a moment later shooting away toward the road. joe made an unsuccessful attempt to mount the running board, but failed. then, criticizing himself for not arriving at the scene sooner, he watched the car turn up the road. impulsively, he jumped into mr. holton's sedan, but found that the key was not there. "we're licked," he moaned. "no use going after him. his car could run circles around mr. holton's, anyway." he waited a little while for his father and friends to appear, but when they did not, he again went into the house. "joe! see anything of the fellow we're after?" the speaker was bob, who had appeared at the top of the basement stairs. "yeah, but it didn't do me any good," the other youth answered, and then told of his pursuing the escaped man. "so he got away, did he?" said the policeman. "well, we'll fix him. there's a telephone in that front room there. i'll call up headquarters and tell them to stop him." "maybe the wires have been cut," suggested mr. lewis. somewhat to their surprise, the telephone was in working order. after calling the police station and giving a complete description of the fleeing man and the car he was driving, the officer moved that they make a thorough search of the house in the hopes of finding the stolen specimens there. "we men will look in the basement," said the officer. "you younger fellows can search the upper floor. if you find anything, let us know right away." "leave it to us," chuckled joe, as he led the way up the stairway. "if that stuff is up there, we'll find it." "maybe he took it with him in the car when he left," said bob. "he was a long time in leaving, you know." the chums searched the upper floor thoroughly but could find no trace of the stolen specimens. they went back over the rooms once more, but could again find nothing. "i'm afraid we'll have to admit defeat," mr. holton said, when the chums had made their way downstairs. "we've looked all over the place, but it's no use. one thing seems apparent: the thief took the specimens with him when he escaped." the situation was indeed most disappointing. they had come to this isolated house confident that they could recover the box of stolen specimens. then, when they were about to find them and arrest the thief, the tables were unexpectedly turned. it was most disheartening, to the naturalists especially. although they had searched every section of the house, they resolved to look once more, even though it had become necessary to switch on electric lights. they also looked through several outbuildings. an hour later, however, it became evident that nothing was to be found. tired and downhearted, the five left the house and got in mr. holton's car, ready to admit defeat. the policeman took his leave at the police station, and then the others drove on home. "the last we'll see of those valuable specimens, perhaps," moaned mr. lewis, as he brought the automobile up in front of the houses. "don't be too sure of that," spoke up bob, assuming an air of optimism. "like that officer said, with radio and all the latest inventions, police can trail anyone nowadays." "that's right," agreed mr. holton. "i certainly hope he's caught." "and that they do it before we leave for africa," added mr. lewis. "africa!" repeated bob longingly. the coming expedition to the dark continent had been absent from his mind all the afternoon and evening. "you will take joe and me with you, won't you? please say that we can go. we'll do all we can for the expedition and won't cause any trouble." "there's no danger of your doing that," mr. holton said at once. "in fact, there have been times when ben and i were glad you were near. but the hazard of it all, boys!" "you know, howard," began mr. lewis, "i've been thinking this thing over, and i believe the trip to africa would do the boys a world of good." "hurrah!" cried joe impulsively. "they are plenty old enough to look out for themselves," mr. lewis resumed. "and we'll have to credit them with a lot of initiative. personally, i am in favor of letting them go with us." joe looked at his father hopefully, although in some surprise. bob seized upon the opportunity at once. "that's the way to talk, mr. lewis," he said. "you see how we came out on that expedition into the andes mountains. were successful in about everything. and the moving-picture house was well pleased with the pictures we took. there'll be another opportunity to make money taking movies of africa--if we can go." mr. lewis rose from his chair. "suppose we talk the matter over with their mothers," he suggested. "and it won't be easy to get their consent, either. but we can see what they think of it." mr. holton was very much undecided about the matter of allowing bob and joe to go, but he consented to do as mr. lewis suggested. "then," he said, addressing the chums, "we can let you know later how things stand. all right?" "sure," joe answered. he felt that there was a big chance of things going in his favor. "but please don't talk against it to our mothers." mr. holton smiled, and then, at a call from the lewis residence, the little party disbanded. chapter x off for africa "hip-hip-hooray! zowie! rah! rah! rah!" "for crying out loud!" exclaimed bob holton. "what's got into you, joe?" joe danced around in wild delight, throwing his hat high into the air and catching it as it came down. he stood on his head, turned a somersault on the grass, and performed other feats. "wow!" cried bob. "you'd have a circus daredevil green with envy. but why all this jumping around? you act like a wild man." "wild man! hurrah for wild men! and wild animals!" "keep it up, old boy," sang bob. "when you come back to your senses, maybe i can get something out of you." joe continued his acrobatic stunts, which ended very abruptly as he came up against a tree that he did not know was so close. "what's the big idea?" he growled. "having a tree right in my way. wait till i go get an ax." joe gained his feet and made a dash toward the house. but in one bound bob brought him to the ground with a flying tackle that he had used so advantageously on the football field. "come clean!" roared bob. "what's the big idea, anyway? you'd better talk." "not till i finish my stunt," said joe stoutly. "not----hey! cut it out!" joe became choked with laughter as his chum's hand pressed against his ribs. for bob knew only too well that joe was not a little ticklish. "if i can't get it out of you one way, i will another," said bob, never giving his chum an inch. "say! what are you ginks up to?" on the instant bob released his hold and wheeled about. then a look of combined bewilderment and delight came on his face. "chubby stevens!" he cried wildly, getting to his feet. "it's chubby as sure as i'm born!" added joe, displaying even more surprise. "why, when did you get here?" the new arrival was a short, exceedingly fat youth, with twinkling eyes and a pug nose. bob and joe had made his acquaintance while in south america on their andes expedition and had taken a great liking to him. "just happened to be in washington and thought i'd drop around and see you bozos," chubby explained. "we came by airplane. left houston last night." "boy! am i glad to see you!" said bob. "of course, you're going to stay awhile, aren't you?" "only till tomorrow," the fat little fellow said. "dad came here to see the president, i guess," he said with a chuckle. "things ain't goin' to suit him in his business. he's awful hard to please, dad is. if the dough ain't rollin' in to suit him he thinks there ought to be something done about it." "same old chubby," said bob with a laugh. "are you sure you're telling the truth?" "well--the fact is, he didn't make it clear just what he came for. anyway, he came. and i went with him." "ever been to washington before?" inquired joe. "nope. i got to within a half a mile of here once. but just as we were about to hit the city limits, dad turned off on another road." bob and joe laughed. "well, then," began the latter, "suppose we spend the day looking around. we can see the city and go to the museum and take a look at the specimens we brought back from the andes. that is, unless you'd rather do something else." "i'd rather do that than anything," chubby said at once. "but--" he hesitated--"if you gazooks have anything else to do----" "we won't have anything to do for several days," spoke up joe. "what are you goin' to be up to then--after those several days are up?" demanded chubby. "plenty," returned joe. "ever hear of africa?" "let me think." the fat youth rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "the word sounds familiar," he said at last. "what is it, a new kind of dog food?" "cut the comedy," said joe, suppressing a smile. "the thing is that bob and i are going there." "to africa? no kiddin'!" "not a bit," returned joe. "we'll be leaving in a short time now." "wait a minute," snapped bob. "how do you know you and i are going? they haven't told us yet." "oh, no? well, just for your own benefit, dad told me a little while ago that our mothers have given their consent. we can go on the expedition." bob stood for several minutes as though transfixed. then, as though the full meaning of his chum's words had been suddenly released, he jumped up with a shout of joy. "africa!" bob cried. "hurrah!" "and still you wonder why i did all that jumping around a while ago," grinned joe. "so that was it?" asked bob. "well, why didn't you tell me?" "so you're going to africa, are you?" came from chubby stevens. "gonna start a circus?" "hardly," returned joe. "dead animals are bad enough to bring back, let alone live ones. but right now, chubby, come in the house. the lawn isn't any place to visit." the remainder of that day bob and joe spent in entertaining their friend from houston. the three visited the museum and had a long talk with mr. holton and mr. lewis, who at once took a liking to chubby. then, after viewing the many specimens of animal life that had recently been brought back from the andes, the three drove around the city, noting the united states capitol, the white house, arlington national cemetery, and many other notable attractions. very late that afternoon bob and joe let their friend out in front of the hotel in which he and his father were staying. chubby explained that, as they were to start back to houston before daylight the next morning, he could not remain longer with his friends. "watch yourselves while you're in africa," he warned, as parting words. "don't get on the inside of a lion." "we'll try not to," laughed bob, and then, with a final farewell, he sent the car homeward. that evening bob and joe thanked their parents warmly for allowing them to prepare for the african expedition. they promised their mothers that they would be unusually careful and not take chances while in the jungle. "and now," began bob the next morning, "we'll have to do some hustling, because we leave friday. this is monday, you know." "and how i wish it were friday now!" groaned joe. the youths were far from idle during the week. they found that there was much to be purchased in the way of outdoor equipment, for although they had been on several previous expeditions, never had necessity demanded so much as now. much of the equipment, however, could be furnished by the two naturalists, who had a large collection of rifles, cartridges, outdoor clothing, tents, kits, and various other articles. "here's something that might interest you, boys," said mr. lewis one evening, as he caught the chums on the back lawn. "what is it?" inquired bob, noticing what the scientist held. "looks like a kind of club." "hardly that," laughed mr. lewis, "though it might be used as a club. but the thing is, boys, that this is a flashlight without batteries." "a--a what?" demanded joe in surprise. "flashlight without batteries? what are you talking about, dad?" "i thought that would get you," mr. lewis laughed. "but no joking, this is just what i said. you see, it contains a small generator. as you turn this crank, it makes electricity, and the bulb lights." "what a contraption!" said bob. "but, say! speaking of turning cranks, that reminds me. joe and i haven't notified the neuman motion picture corporation that we're going to africa. and they told us to let them know when we left for a little-known land. if we're going to take movies of africa, we'll have to telegraph them at once and maybe go to philadelphia to see them." "i've already sent them word," said joe. "forgot to tell you about it. as soon as our mothers said we could go, i went down and telegraphed. they said they'd send the cameras and film at once by express." "you did?" asked bob in astonishment. "good old joe. gotta hand it to you, all right." but despite what the neuman corporation had informed joe, the motion-picture cameras and film had not arrived thursday evening, as the youths and their fathers prepared to retire. on the morrow--friday--they were to leave for baltimore, whence they would embark on the steamer _zanzibar_. "doggone it, anyhow!" exclaimed bob holton, who was fairly fuming at the mouth. "what will we do? we haven't time to go to philadelphia now." "looks like you fellows aren't going to take movies of africa," remarked mr. holton, who also felt the youths' bitter disappointment. "but--but they would be better than any we've ever taken," mourned joe. "no," he went on, "we'll have to arrange it some way. it might be best for you men to go on and let bob and me take another ship. we----" "i'm afraid you couldn't do that, boys," said mr. lewis, shaking his head. "we've already made reservations for you, and those could not easily be broken. a contract is a contract, you know." "the only thing for you to do," came from bob's father, "is to telegraph neuman the first thing in the morning to send the cameras and film on to africa if they haven't sent them yet. of course, if they have, your mothers can forward them on to africa by another ship." that night bob and joe were far from hopeful. since they had been engaged on their first expedition, to brazil, to take moving pictures of the strange places and animals they saw, the chums had longed for a chance to photograph wild life in african jungles. now, to be leaving for those mysterious jungles without taking motion pictures was unthinkable. but despite these grave thoughts, the youths slept soundly and awoke the next morning in high spirits. after all, they were going to africa. what if they could not go? that would really be something to cry over. the four adventurers tore themselves with difficulty from the breakfast table and arranged their belongings together. the boys' fathers drove the family cars around in front. "let's get started at once," urged mr. holton, looking at his watch. "the train leaves for baltimore in little more than half an hour. that means we'll have to hurry." the words were scarcely out of his mouth when an express truck drove up and stopped just behind the two cars. out of it stepped the driver, who carried a large tightly sealed box. "the motion-picture cameras!" cried joe in extreme joy. "they're here at last!" chapter xi an amusing acquaintance "how was that for timing it to a dot?" laughed bob, after the express driver had left. "couldn't have been better," said joe. "boy! am i glad that stuff got here!" bob placed the big box in the holton car, and then all made ready for the drive to the railroad station. they reached their destination with fifteen minutes to spare and at once set about having the baggage sent up to the tracks. the leavetaking was painful to all, for it was as hard for the four explorers to go as it was for those staying at home to give them up. but finally, with last warm farewells, the youths and their fathers left for the tracks. "bring me a lion cub!" called tommy, bob's small brother, shouting to make himself heard. "i might surprise you, tom, old man," bob shouted back, laughing in spite of himself at his brother's remark. with one last wave, the youths and their fathers headed for the tracks, where the baltimore express was waiting. red-capped porters brought their baggage up in the rear and placed it on the train. then the adventurers themselves boarded. before long, with a clanging of bells the express puffed out of the station and steamed in the direction of baltimore. at last the long journey had begun. for some time both bob and joe were silent, watching the country as it whizzed past them. then, almost before knowing it, they pulled into baltimore. mr. lewis hailed a taxi, and they were whirled through the busy streets to the docks, where, at some point, their steamer, the _zanzibar_, was anchored. "what do you think of her, boys?" it was mr. holton's voice as a little later the four explorers found themselves peering ahead at the ship on which they were to embark. "i hardly know," returned bob, who was somewhat disappointed at sight of the vessel. "suppose you answer that question, dad, mr. lewis." "i'm afraid we're a bit stung," muttered his father, gazing at the _zanzibar_. the steamer was far from modern in appearance; its sides were beginning to look rusty, and the cabin was badly lacking in paint. about two hundred feet long, it looked as though it had seen many years' service. "will that take us all the way to africa?" demanded joe, who was almost at the point of anger. "we'll probably get there," returned his father. "but how!" "why didn't you pick a better boat?" asked bob. "the passage wouldn't have cost any more, would it?" "this happened to be the only one sailing soon," was the answer from mr. lewis. "i took for granted that it would be satisfactory." they went up the gangplank, having resolved to make the best of a bad matter. "anyway," said bob, "it's far better than not going at all." the vessel was not to lift anchor until late that afternoon, and so the youths had some time to walk about the docks. "whatever you do, get back here in time," warned mr. lewis, as the chums left down the gangplank. "it would be a terrible thing to be left behind." "we'll be there," returned bob. he and joe spent some time in looking around. they saw many strange and interesting people and things at the waterfront, and would have liked to stay longer. but at one o'clock they decided to take no chances and boarded the _zanzibar_, although it was still several hours before sailing time. the youths were shown to their stateroom, which went somewhat beyond their expectations, it being large and well appointed. "maybe this old boat doesn't look very well on the outside, but she's o.k. inside," remarked bob, as he left with his chum for the outer deck. "couldn't ask for much better." on deck the two found their fathers eagerly waiting for the ship to move out to sea. the men were becoming more restless with every passing minute. then at last the longed-for moment came. a cry of "all ashore!" a chugging of tugs. a mad scramble of visitors down the gangplank. then, with a clanging of bells and a groaning of hawsers, the _zanzibar_ began to move away from the dock. "we're off!" exclaimed joe lewis, waving mechanically at the crowd of people who were there to see the steamer leave. slowly the vessel threaded her way through the heavy water traffic. it steamed out through the patapsco river and then at last turned into chesapeake bay. bob and joe remained on deck with their fathers for some time, noting everything worthwhile that was visible about them. finally bob turned to his friend. "suppose we go below," he suggested. "i'd like to take a look at the ship." the boys spent the remainder of the day in exploring the _zanzibar_ and were greatly interested in everything they saw. but they knew at once that the ship had been in service for many years. the ocean voyage was not novel to them, but, nevertheless, they enjoyed it immensely. the days passed pleasantly enough, the chums seeking amusement by swimming in the ship's pool, playing various deck games, and reading in the library. one morning they were leaning on the rail, watching the rolling of the waves, when a high-pitched voice roused them. looking around, they saw a tall, very slim young man of perhaps twenty, with light wavy hair and an unusually light complexion. his features were very delicate, and his voice very much resembled that of a lady. "i say there," he greeted, extending a shapely white hand. "really marvelous weather we're having, don't you think?" "why--yes," returned bob, after a moment of hesitation. "yes, the weather's swell so far. i sure hope we don't run into a tropical storm." "a what?" the slender young man turned a shade paler. "did you say storm?" "yes," returned bob, inwardly amused. "i heard the captain talking this morning. he seemed to think there's a chance of striking a hurricane." "goodness gracious!" cried the strange young man. "that would simply be horrible. could there not be something done about it?" "well--" bob hesitated--"i don't know of anything. just have to go through it, i suppose. but perhaps after all there won't anything happen. i'd like to to reach port under a clear sky." "and so would i, my dear chap. are you seeking pleasure by traveling?" "to a certain extent we are," bob answered him. "my chum here and myself are with our dads to collect specimens of animal life and photograph the country," he explained. "holton is my name--bob holton. this is joe lewis." "most delighted to know you," said the white-faced youth. "cecil purl stone is my name. a real pleasure to know you. i'm--traveling just for the fun of it," he said with a foolish little laugh. "i do consider travel as one of the most gorgeous ways of enlightening oneself. it is--so very amusing," and he laughed again, this time even more girlishly. "yes, it is," said joe, keeping back a smile. "but the fact is, bob and i won't have much time for travel in the true sense of the word. we'll be too busy hunting and photographing." "hunting? gracious sakes! don't tell me you are permitted to carry firearms!" bob and joe smiled instinctively. "hunting is great sport," said the latter. "but we never kill anything just for the pleasure of killing it. we have a good reason whenever we shoot an animal." "ugh!" exclaimed cecil with a shudder. "i never could bear the thought of a gun. believe me, they certainly give me a creepy feeling. once i went with mamma to india. we intended to travel through a part of the country that was a little--dangerous, but when they told us we had better carry firearms i revolted right then and there. the very thought of such a horrible thing made the cold chills creep down my back." "but there isn't anything bad about a rifle," joe told him. "that is, if you know how to use it. my friend and i may find our guns very useful when we get among such animals as gorillas." "gorillas! a beastly word. but don't inform me you are going to search for such terrible things!" "well, not exactly," answered bob. "but if any come our way we'll probably bring a few down for specimens. and we'll also be on the lookout for other dangerous game. lions and leopards, for instance." "gracious!" cecil stone's mouth was wide open. "and you expect to return from that horrible country alive?" "we hope to," returned joe with a smile. "and you--what do you intend to do in africa?" cecil purl removed a bright blue comb from its case. he fixed his hair very carefully before he again spoke. "we wish to visit the cities," he told them, "and mingle with the socially prominent people. it will be most enlightening, believe me. we hope to be invited very often to tea. perhaps----" "cecil! come with mamma now. you must dress for dinnah." "fer gosh sakes" murmured bob, under his breath. a very tall, smiling woman was beckoning to the young man, who obeyed her without delay. "really, i'm most charmed to have met you chaps," he said, turning to leave. "i sincerely trust that we may meet again soon." with this he walked lightly down the deck with the woman. bob and joe watched the pair closely until they closed the cabin door behind them. then the youths burst into laughter which lasted for well over a minute. "for the love of mike!" cried bob, as soon as he could get his breath. "talk about sissies. that fellow's at the very top of the list." "'mamma' sure has him under her thumb, all right," grinned joe. "it's a wonder she doesn't put dresses on him. but come on, bob. it's about time for dinner to be served. unless i miss my guess, cecil won't last very long at the table. boat's been rolling lately, you know." the chums went to their stateroom to wash and comb. then, accompanied by their fathers, they went up to the dining saloon. the food tasted good, both youths eating heartily. evidently they were now seasoned sailors, for neither felt the slightest signs of seasickness. but with someone else, seated near them at another table, it was entirely a different matter. for cecil stone's face was beginning to turn a sickly yellow, and with each bite of food he was visibly becoming more affected. "dear me!" the chums heard him say. "i really can't take another bite of that beastly salad." "perhaps you would feel bettah if you would go to your suite, cecil darling. appahantly you aren't feeling well today." "there he goes," whispered bob, his eyes following the tall, stooping figure. "he can't take it." chapter xii a disappointing announcement much as bob and joe expected, cecil purl stone did not put in his appearance the remainder of that day. nor did he appear in the cabin the next. in fact, it was two days later that he was seen walking down the promenade deck. even then he was unusually pale and haggard looking. at a suggestion from joe the chums walked purposely up to the young man. "how do you like the way the ship's rolling?" joe asked him, with a wink at bob. "oh, it's simply deplorable!" returned cecil, rubbing his forehead. "there certainly should be something done about it. don't you know, i'm terribly afraid that if this continues much longer i shall become ill again." "ill? were you ill?" inquired bob, with an attempt at innocence. "oh, it was horrible!" moaned cecil purl. "i declare i never experienced anything quite like it before. i do not see how i ever escaped alive!" "but you've taken ocean voyages before, haven't you?" asked joe. "i most certainly have, my dear chap. but, don't you know, i never have escaped that dreadful seasickness. not even as much as once." "that's too bad," said bob sympathetically. "but, then, some people aren't as lucky as others. it's a fortunate thing, though, that the weather has remained calm." "will it last, though?" queried joe, keeping an eye on cecil purl stone. "for all we know, there may come a violent storm tonight." "gracious!" the slender young man gasped. "what should i ever do if that should happen? i believe i would surely go distracted." "he'd probably go to his suite," laughed bob a little later. contrary to joe's remark, there were no signs of a storm that night. in fact, the weather was most delightful, and many of the passengers spent the time on deck, taking advantage of the cool night breeze. bob and joe and their fathers were among those passengers. "there's nothing like the spell of the ocean," murmured mr. lewis, as he sat staring up at the star-studded sky. "wait till we get to the tropics," bob's father reminded him. "this won't be anything then." "right you are, mr. holton," came from joe. "but just where do we land in africa? i know it's somewhere along the east coast, but the particular city i don't know." "we'll pull into mombasa," his father explained. "it's a place of considerable importance and is the eastern terminal of the uganda railway. we won't stay there any longer than we can help. howard and i would, however, like to look up an old friend whom we haven't seen for some time. but as soon as we can we'll get started into the interior." "i suppose from what you said that we'll take a train as far as possible. right?" asked bob. the naturalists nodded. "that railroad was made to order for us," said mr. lewis. "if it weren't there, it would mean a long and painful hike through a region that is unimportant to us." "unimportant? why?" inquired joe. "simply because we are not permitted to shoot any animal in the protectorate," mr. holton explained. "you see, the english have made this a sort of park for the benefit of those who wish to view wild creatures in their natural habitat. for that reason--and also there are others--we intend to penetrate deep into the congo forests." several days later the _zanzibar_ steamed through the strait of gibraltar and passed into the mediterranean, going so near the famous huge rock that it was plainly visible in the thin morning air. "isn't that a sight for your eyes, though!" remarked bob, gazing ahead intently. "if it were night they would probably play searchlights on our boat," said joe. "what? searchlights? what are you talking about?" "dad told me that there are several forts at the rock," joe explained, "and the authorities there have the searchlights to light up the strait. in case of war, i suppose they would come in handy." as time passed, the ship steamed on through the mediterranean, past shores that were famous in ancient history. although the _zanzibar_ had not yet entered the tropics, the heat was becoming unbearable, the chums and their fathers seeking the cool retreat of the swimming pool. then one clear morning they were able to make out the form of a lighthouse, and a little later they pulled into port said, at the mediterranean end of the suez canal. "look out for the heat now," laughed mr. lewis, when they were again on their way. "heat's no word for it," groaned bob some time later, as he loosened his necktie. "it's torture." hemmed in on both sides by two of the hottest deserts in the world, the red sea proved to be a veritable inferno. so hot was it that even the swimming pool did not offer a haven of refuge. "here's hoping the red sea doesn't close in on us," laughed joe. "it did on pharaoh's men, you know, in biblical times." "guess there isn't any danger," came from bob, fanning himself vigorously. "we haven't anything but good intentions." cecil purl stone also found the heat torturing. "why don't you take off your coat?" asked bob. "you'll smother to death." "mamma says i just must leave it on," was the reply. "there are ladies on the boat, you know." "phooey!" muttered joe, under his breath. at last the _zanzibar_ emerged into the indian ocean, after having steamed through the red sea for six days. once bob and joe were standing at the rail, watching the schools of porpoises, the occasional flying fish, and the less frequent fins of sharks, when they suddenly heard a stamping noise coming from around the promenade deck. wondering what was meant, they turned and waited. a moment later appeared cecil purl stone, running awkwardly around the corner. "why, what's the matter?" questioned joe, trying to refrain from laughing at sight of the slender young man. cecil stone groaned. "oh, it is beastly!" he said, stopping for a moment to face the chums. "what?" demanded bob. "tell us about it." "that horrible captain just told me there may be a storm," he explained, wiping the perspiration from his white face. "storm? you don't say!" broke out joe. "i---wait. where are you going?" "i intend to go to bed without further delay," answered cecil promptly. "i tell you, i just can't stand that dreadful seasickness any more. i'm going to have mamma give me some medicine." the next instant he was gone. bob and joe wanted to laugh, but they had done so so often that they restrained themselves. "not wishing him any bad luck, but a guy like that ought to be seasick," grunted bob. "he's the worst i've ever seen." "but, say, bob, he said the captain told him there might be a storm, didn't he? do you suppose there'll be one?" "i can't see any signs of it," the other youth returned. "who knows but that the captain was joking with cecil? perhaps he just wanted to get him worried. it's natural to pick on a sissy, you know." whether bob was right in his opinion they never knew. but, at any rate, all the remainder of that day and the next passed without any atmospheric disturbance. "well, boys, we'll reach mombasa tomorrow about noon," remarked mr. holton, moving with joe's father up to where the chums were standing. "hurray!" yelled bob. "i've enjoyed this voyage, but i'll be glad to get to africa." "wonder where cecil purl will head for?" laughed joe. "probably straight to the best hotel in the city," answered mr. lewis with a smile, for he also had been amused by cecil's feminine traits. the next day bob and joe, together with their fathers, took places at the rail, awaiting their arrival at mombasa. several other passengers were already there, and still more came soon after. eleven o'clock came. eleven-thirty. noon. but no mombasa. "wonder what's the trouble?" mused bob, his keen eyes searching the horizon. "we should be there by now." "true," answered his father. "but don't forget that a ship isn't exactly like a train. it is much harder to stick closely to time tables on an ocean voyage." notwithstanding this, two o'clock rolled around without any sight of the city of their destination. many of the passengers were beginning to worry, for they could not conceive of straying so far from the schedule. even mr. holton and mr. lewis were starting to wonder. they remained anxiously at the prow, straining their eyes to make out the outlines of the city. suddenly, when a heavy cloud lifted, joe gave a cry of delight. "it's land!" he exclaimed, pointing far out over the water. "it won't be long now." gradually the outlines of the shore line became more distinct, and at last the passengers could make out luxurious tropical vegetation. "but where's mombasa?" demanded bob, scanning the landscape. "looks like it isn't there," answered mr. lewis. "what do you mean, dad?" joe inquired. mr. lewis was at the point of making a reply when the captain of the ship strode up, on his face a scowl. "it seems that there has been a slight mistake in our reckoning," he said. "we are seventy nautical miles to the north." chapter xiii the lost scientist there was a buzz of muffled conversation among the passengers, and before anyone could ask anything further, the captain had disappeared into the cabin. "this is a fine howdy-do," snorted joe lewis, peering out at the shoreline. "what do they take us for, a bunch of livestock?" "jove!" exclaimed one of the passengers, looking up through his large glasses. "the bally ship is a good half day's journey from mombasa." "it's a horrible shame, that's what it is," came from cecil purl stone, who also was at the rail. "here i am in perfect readiness to look upon mombasa, and this had to happen. i'm going straight to my suite." "wonder how it all happened?" inquired bob. "that we don't know, son." mr. holton's temper was also being tried. "but now that it has happened, there's no way out, only to wait." "i took for granted the _zanzibar's_ navigators were competent," said mr. lewis. "however, such things do happen occasionally." although the naturalists and their sons were disappointed, there was nothing they could do but wait. just how much longer it would be, however, they did not know. to the vexation of all, the _zanzibar_ steamed for the remainder of that afternoon and evening without sighting the city of its destination. it was not until eight o'clock that night that mombasa could be outlined in the distance, and then, of course, only the lights could be seen. bob and joe, together with their fathers and many other passengers, stood at the prow of the ship, waiting for land to come up to meet them. the broad beam of the vessel's searchlight illuminated the water ahead perfectly. at last the _zanzibar_ was making directly for the harbor. "not much to be seen at night," observed joe. "but i guess we'll be able to look around in the morning." they watched interestedly as the ship moved slowly into the harbor. aside from a few small ships and native dhows, there was no water traffic in sight. neither was the dock easily visible. "suppose we turn in, boys," suggested mr. holton. "if we get to bed early, we can be up early. and the sooner we put ashore and make arrangements for our exploration venture, the sooner we can be on our way into the heart of africa." the heart of africa! bob and joe thrilled at mention of this. often had they longed for such a venture into the dark continent, but not until now had that longing been satisfied. the chums needed no urging to follow mr. holton's suggestion to retire, for they desired to be up early the next morning. "i don't know whether i can sleep or not, though," laughed bob, as he and his friend walked to their stateroom. "i'm afraid i'll be thinking too much about africa. think of it, joe. we're here--in africa!" "not quite," joe reminded him. "we're still on the _zanzibar_, don't forget." "gosh! that's right. i almost forgot." the boys slept soundly, but because they had set their "mental alarm clocks," as joe called it, they awoke before six in the morning. but if they considered themselves "early-birds," they were to throw away the title promptly when they caught sight of their fathers standing on deck with their baggage. "how in the dickens did you manage to get up so early?" demanded joe. "you must have got out of bed at four to have brought all that stuff out here." "we'll have a big day before us, boys," said mr. holton. "let's leave the ship at once." but before doing so the youths walked out to the rail to view their surroundings. the sight that met their eyes made them gasp, so different was it from anything they had previously seen. before them was the new port, which contained numerous docks, warehouses, and the like. to one side they saw the old harbor with its numerous native ships and boats. beyond the waterfront were the prominent buildings of the city, while not far away was the old portuguese fort. farther away was the bright green of endless tropical vegetation. "so this is africa," muttered bob. "what do you think of it?" "pleases me, all right," grinned joe. "i'm longing to get into the jungle." "come along, boys." it was mr. holton's voice. "gather up your baggage and come back on deck. do it as rapidly as you can." during the next ten minutes the youths worked furiously, attending to such things that they had not already packed. on their way down the hall they stopped at cecil stone's suite to have a parting word with that young man. but apparently he had left, for no one answered the knock. "the last we'll see of him, maybe," remarked bob, picking up the cases he had been carrying. on deck, bob and joe found a large number of passengers amassed ready to move down the gangplank. there was an exchange of parting words, and the chums left with their fathers and made their way to a hotel, in which they had previously engaged rooms. "what's next?" inquired joe, after they had had breakfast. "ben and i want to look up an old friend," said mr. holton. "a mr. george seabury. he used to be a mighty hunter." "used to be?" queried bob. "what do you mean, dad? is he old or something?" "what i meant, bob, is that several years ago he was charged by a rhino and has not had full use of his legs since. he can walk, but doesn't do it any too well. suppose," he continued, "you and joe come with us. there's no question but that you'll like him at once." the youths were more than willing, and, led by their fathers, they walked over to a section of the town that was inhabited only by europeans and americans. at a rather attractive-looking house they stopped, and mr. lewis knocked on the door. the door was opened by a large, swarthy man of anywhere between fifty and sixty. one glance at mr. lewis and mr. holton was enough. "by jupiter!" he cried, overjoyed at sight of the naturalists. "come in, you old rascals." mr. holton smiled and gave his friend an affectionate pat on the back. "but we've brought our sons with us this time," he said, indicating bob and joe. "george, meet joe lewis and bob holton. boys, this is mr. seabury." there was a shaking of hands and general greeting, and in the end the chums felt perfectly at home. "husky fellows," observed mr. seabury. "look like they could take care of themselves, all right." "they certainly can," affirmed mr. lewis, and then outlined some of the boys' experiences in brazil, the sahara, and the andes mountains. their host listened intently. by the time mr. lewis had finished he looked upon the boys with even more respect. but soon his brow wrinkled. "africa is somewhat more dangerous than any of the places they have been," he said slowly. "there are evidences of that everywhere. in fact, there is evidence of it right here in this house." "referring to yourself, perhaps," put in mr. lewis grimly. "just that," mr. seabury returned. "being charged by a rhino is anything but pleasant. fortunately, i escaped, but the terrible beast put its mark on me for life." there were grim looks on the faces of everyone. especially were bob and joe touched, for they realized for the first time that africa was a land of tragedy. "is there nothing that can be done? will you always be lame?" inquired mr. holton. mr. seabury looked even more grave. "medical science cannot help me," he said at last. "i'm afraid my hunting days are over." for several moments he retained the same expression. then suddenly his face lightened, as though he had resolved to forget the matter. "just what fauna are you after this time?" he asked the naturalists. "but first, before anything more is said, i have something that i want to put before you." "what is it, a surprise?" smiled mr. lewis. "well--you might call it that," was the response. "here's the whole thing: over six months ago my brother thomas went into the congo region to study the primitive tribes there. he was to come back in three months. as yet he hasn't returned. i fear something has happened to him." "that's too bad," said mr. lewis. "we'll make it a point to search for him. just where did he intend to go?" "it is a very remote region," mr. seabury told them. "has been called the forest of mystery." "the forest of mystery!" repeated mr. holton. "i've heard of it. in the central congo country, isn't it?" george seabury nodded. "it is said to be full of unexplainable phenomena," he said. "has been frequented by only a very few whites." mr. lewis brought his fist down on the arm of the chair. "that's the region we'll explore," he said, while bob's father nodded. "have you any idea how to get there?" "no," their host responded. "but i know of two natives who have. they live in mbarara. you men left from there on your last safari in this part of africa." "yes," came from mr. holton. "but who are these two natives?" "one is named noko and the other is kaika----" "kaika!" interrupted joe's father. "why, he was our head bearer on our last safari." "that so?" asked mr. seabury, somewhat surprised. "well, he and noko have been to the forest of mystery and know how to get there." "fine." mr. holton smiled happily. "that's the very place we'll set out for. and we'll certainly keep on the lookout for your brother." "you don't know how much it will mean to me if thomas is found," said mr. seabury. "of course, i am in no condition to go in search of him, and it would be next to impossible to engage some stranger to do it. so if you will keep on the watch for him, it will certainly ease matters." "we'll be more than glad to do it," mr. lewis told him. "it will be strange if we don't run across some trace of him." for the next hour they talked on indifferent matters. then, with a parting word, the explorers left mr. seabury's house and went to the hotel. "now what?" asked joe. the answer was without hesitation. "we'll start into the unknown as soon as we possibly can," said mr. holton. "that is, of course, if we can get a train. it may be that we will have to wait several days before one leaves." "boy!" cried joe, deeply touched. "into the heart of africa! i can hardly wait." chapter xiv disaster ahead "what did you find out, dad?" inquired bob late that afternoon. mr. holton had just returned from the railroad station of the uganda railway. his father smiled happily. "there is a train leaving tomorrow morning," he said. "from all accounts we'll be the only passengers on it." "i don't mind that," came from joe. "but, say, mr. holton, what does the train look like?" "you'll be surprised," smiled mr. lewis. "perhaps you'll tell us just where it will take us," said bob. "all the way to lake victoria," his father returned. "we'll spend a day or so looking around there. then we'll organize a safari and plunge into the jungle." there was a little time left before darkness would close over them. bob and joe used it to further explore mombasa and see its inhabitants. they found that the city was situated on an island several thousand acres in extent. there was a channel that divided it from the mainland, spanned by a causeway. in the old section of the city the chums found many things of interest in the way of odd native huts, curious carvings, and the native market. the new section contained a number of attractive homes in which lived europeans and americans. "and there seem to be representatives of all races here," remarked bob, when they returned to the hotel. "whites, blacks, browns--all colors." "you're in for a surprise tonight," said mr. lewis, as the youths retired. "what is it?" asked joe. "wait and see," smiled his father. the "surprise" did not make itself known the first part of the night. in fact, bob and joe forgot all about what mr. lewis had said so soundly did they sleep. but about two in the morning they were awakened by a hideous noise which was unlike anything the youths had ever heard before. that it was the call of some wild animal they did not doubt, but just what creature could cry out in such tones they had not the slightest idea. the noise was repeated again and again, always nearer. finally bob jumped out of bed and bounded to the window. "of all things!" he cried, gazing out intently. "joe, come here--quick!" joe needed no urging. like a flash he had joined his comrade. "why--it's a hyena!" he gasped. "and there's another--and another. gosh! they're right out in the middle of the street." a brilliant moon made the animals easily visible. they were unusually large specimens, that from all appearances could tear a man limb from limb. "i guess they're too cowardly to attack even a very small animal," remarked bob. "but they sure look mean, don't they?" "this must be the surprise dad was talking about," said joe, never taking his eyes from the scene. "and it really is a surprise, too. who'd expect to see wild animals out in the main street of a town, even in africa?" the chums could hardly tear themselves away from the window. the whining, screaming hyenas were something that they had never seen except behind bars, and they naturally looked out with great interest. "come on, joe." bob at last went back to bed. "we want to get a little more sleep before morning. we'll have a lot to do tomorrow." shortly after daybreak mr. lewis appeared at the doorway. "come along, boys," he said, noting that they were awake. "the train leaves in two hours." they dressed as soon as possible and secured their breakfast. then, with their fathers, they went to the railroad station, carrying most of their baggage. as there was nearly an hour remaining, all four took a short walk about the city, in search of anything unusual. before long they found themselves at the city fish market, which was a colorful place displaying practically all kinds of sea food. there were sharks, swordfish, crabs, crayfish, sardines, and many other queer denizens of the near-by waters. "quite a market," mused joe, as they moved back to the railroad station. "ought to be able to find anything you'd want there." the train arrived at last, and the explorers lost no time in boarding. they found the coach very comfortable, although it appeared rather old. "you were right, howard. as yet we are the only passengers," observed mr. lewis. before long the train started moving, slowly at first, picking up speed later. "we're off!" cried joe, gazing out of the window with interest. after a short stop at kilindini they crossed the channel and passed through luxuriant tropical vegetation--coconut palms, mangoes, and countless other trees and plants. "when do we see the herds of wild animals?" asked bob, after an hour had passed. "this is a game reserve, isn't it?" his father nodded. "we should see some before long now," he said. "but, of course, there won't be any great numbers until we get farther along." soon the train left the coastal belt and reached a region of bush. for several hours it sped through a monotonous country, at last coming to the town of voi. from then on the journey was rather uninteresting, until the explorers pulled into makindu. here they got off to spend the night. late the next morning the train resumed its journey, leaving the region of bush behind and entering a vast plain. suddenly mr. holton sat up with a start. "look over there!" he exclaimed, pointing to something several hundred yards away. bob and joe looked. "why--it's a herd of zebras!" cried bob, struck with amazement. "there must be fifty of them." "what do you know about that!" joe was also gazing out with profound interest. "they--over there! a herd of strange antelopes." "they're impalla," pronounced his father. "sleek, beautiful animals, aren't they?" as they went farther the explorers saw other kinds of game. bright-colored birds fluttered past; towering giraffes could often be seen; hartebeests and other varieties of antelopes appeared everywhere. once a troop of impalla, upon hearing the locomotive whistle, ran gracefully at right angles from the train. "the world's greatest menagerie," murmured mr. lewis, speaking with decision. "the british certainly have done a great good here. there is nothing like this protectorate anywhere." half an hour later the train stopped at a small but attractive station. here the explorers got off to stretch their legs and look around. bob and joe happened to be near the locomotive when a voice made them turn about. looking up, they saw the engineer motioning to them. "how would you like to see the wild beasts better?" he asked the youths. "why--what do you mean?" inquired joe wonderingly. "see them better? how?" "easy enough," laughed the engineer. he climbed down from the locomotive. "see that? it's a seat on the cowcatcher. if you like, you and your dads, or whoever that was with you, can perch yourselves there. it's every bit as safe as in the car." "say!" burst out bob, delighted at such an opportunity. "that's just what we'll do. there's plenty of room for all four of us, and no danger of falling off. thanks for telling us." the boys found their fathers on the opposite side of the train. "it's time joe and i were springing a surprise on you," said bob, with a wink at his chum. there was a quizzical look on the faces of the naturalists. "very well," smiled mr. lewis, his eyes twinkling. "what is your surprise?" "how would you like to see the wild beasts better?" asked bob, repeating the question asked by the engineer. mr. holton answered on the moment. "we'd like it so well that we intend to occupy the seat on the cowcatcher of the engine," he said casually. bob groaned hopelessly. "good-bye surprise," he snorted. "doggone it, dad. you two are away too wise for us. we ought to tell you something about the amazon jungle, i guess, instead of picking on africa. we ought to be able to. we were lost in it long enough." "i get it," laughed mr. lewis. "you were going to tell us about the wonderful possibilities for sightseeing while seated at the front of the locomotive. why didn't you keep still, howard, and let them have their fun?" "sorry," grinned mr. holton. "next time i'll be as mum as a giraffe." at a word from the engineer, the four explorers climbed up on the cowcatcher and sat down on the wide seat, their hearts light as they eagerly anticipated what was coming. as for bob and joe, it was the most unusual opportunity they had ever been offered. "what do you have there?" inquired joe, trying to make out what his friend held under his arm. "a motion-picture camera," returned bob, holding it in view. "i opened the box and brought it out. we haven't taken any movies since we started, you know." "glad you thought of it," joe commended. "this is sure a swell chance for rolling it off." the sound of the locomotive's whistle made the explorers sit up in eager anticipation. it was a novel sensation to the youths--sitting on the cowcatcher of the engine. as the latter picked up speed, they experienced a feeling of real exhilaration. for seeing the shining rails slip by and watching the scenery move toward them was most unusual indeed, especially here in africa. the farther they went the more plentiful wild life became. on one occasion joe almost caught a bright red bird with his hands as it flew across the path of the oncoming train. at another time a cat-like animal darted across the track, almost under the wheels. "that fellow had a narrow escape," breathed bob, whose heart was beating rapidly as he saw the near-tragedy. still later the boys and their fathers saw literally thousands of beautiful thompson's gazelles, gnus, ostriches, giraffes, hartebeests, water bucks, and many other creatures. "such a sight!" said bob, cranking the motion-picture camera frequently. "never saw----" he stopped abruptly, and the reason was very apparent. not two hundred feet away, directly on the track, was a huge elephant, which paid not the slightest attention to the oncoming train! chapter xv a wonderful sight "we'll hit it, sure!" cried joe, rapidly losing his nerve as he gazed fearfully ahead. "oh, i guess this is the end!" already the shrill whistle of the locomotive was shattering the silence. but even the loud warning was futile. the elephant remained where it was, not as much as moving an ear. bob and joe and their fathers were gripped with fear as they saw themselves speed closer toward the huge brute. let them once strike the animal, and their doom would probably be sealed! the explorers heard a wild shout from the engineer. then there was a creaking and grinding noise, and the train's speed was checked somewhat. but even with the application of the emergency brake the heavy engine plunged on. "jump!" cried mr. lewis in a wild voice. "it's the only way to escape!" obeying the command at once, bob and joe watched their chance and leaped far over to the left of the train, while their fathers went to the right. the train was not traveling rapidly, and so there was no danger of injuring themselves. the youths rolled over on the soft ground, not receiving as much as a scratch. "look, joe! look!" yelled bob. the locomotive slid on and with a tremendous crash struck the massive elephant. the impact knocked the front trucks of the engine completely off the track, while the huge beast went to the ground with a resounding thud. the force of the collision literally brought the train to a complete stop. but the scene of the mishap was one of frenzied disorder. kicking and trumpeting horribly, the elephant vainly tried to get to its feet. but, despite its frantic efforts, it could not do so. apparently it had been injured severely. mr. holton ran around to the youths, followed by joe's father. "boys! are you all right?" the latter asked anxiously. "yes," bob reassured him. "but, say, that was a whale of a smash-up, wasn't it?" "the elephant appears to be mortally wounded," mr. lewis said, with a shake of his head. "it seems only humane to put it out of its misery." he unstrapped his rifle and took aim at the animal's heart. a moment later he pulled the trigger. the naturalist never fired a more accurate shot. with a horrible groan, the great beast collapsed into a heap--dead. the high-velocity bullet, following its previous injury, finished it instantly. long before, the engineer and fireman of the locomotive had joined the explorers and were viewing the scene with a terrible awe. "we're in a fine mess," groaned bob, directing his gaze at the dead elephant. "mess is right, fellow," came from the engineer. "it's up to me now to get word back to mombasa to send out a relief train. we're in luck, too. there's a station only a short distance up the track." he left the others and hurried ahead, intent upon telegraphing as soon as possible. in less than an hour he was back, and announced that another train would arrive from nairobi, a city less than sixty miles away. relief was expected inside of three hours. "while we're waiting," said bob, speaking to his chum, "suppose we take a short jaunt into the surrounding country. we ought to see plenty of interest." "be careful, boys," warned mr. holton. "and remember. don't shoot any animal unless, of course, you have to. this is a game preserve, you know." delighted at such a chance, the youths strode off through the high grass, keeping their eyes ready to single out anything of interest. almost at every step they saw some strange and interesting creature. birds of brilliant plumage flew overhead, large herds of sleek, agile antelopes coursed across the plain, and at one time the boys caught a glimpse of a buffalo. "strange that there aren't any lions," mused joe. "where there's so much of everything else, looks like there ought to be at least a few." "i suppose they keep their distance," said bob. "been hunted so much, maybe." in little over two hours, bob and joe returned to the train, to find their fathers sitting on the cowcatcher of the engine. "what did you see?" mr. lewis inquired drowsily. "plenty," answered bob. "there's about every kind of animal imaginable in this region. but we weren't able to stir up a lion." "i don't wonder," mr. holton said. "the king of beasts is keeping his distance at present." "what do you mean, 'at present'?" inquired joe. "the natives around here have been up in arms against lions," mr. holton explained. "you see, the fact that this is a protectorate has made the lions very bold, and so the natives have taken steps to kill off a few that have been causing the most trouble. it seems----" he was interrupted by the sound of a distant locomotive whistle and peered up the track expectantly. undoubtedly this was the relief train, and that was what the two naturalists desired above all else just at this time. for every moment of delay was maddening to them. at last the train came in sight and in a short time had stopped not far from the dead elephant. the engine was in the rear of a flat car on which was a huge crane. "now for the fun," smiled joe, looking doubtfully at the crane. "looks to me like it would take more than one of those things to move that elephant." but much to joe's surprise the crane proved very effective, lifting the elephant slowly but surely off the track. it was also used just as effectively to place the front truck of the engine back on the rails. "all over," laughed bob, placing the motion-picture camera back in his pocket. "i took some movies of that, too. ought to be plenty good." he climbed back on the cowcatcher of the locomotive. "i don't know whether it will be safe to sit there, bob," said his father. "we might strike another animal." "ah, gee, dad," came from bob pleadingly. "this is a wonderful place to watch the scenery." the engineer came to his rescue. "you don't need to fear anything more happening," he told mr. holton. "this elephant smash-up was the first to bother us this year. go ahead and sit on the cowcatcher." the naturalist took hope from the trainman's words and decided to risk it. for, if the truth be known, he and mr. lewis were as anxious as the boys to ride at the front of the locomotive. ten minutes later they were speeding along toward lake victoria, following the wrecking train. nothing more happened until they reached nairobi, the halfway point on the way to the lake. here their journey aboard this train came to an end, and they were forced to wait for another. the next morning they were again on their journey, this time aboard another train, the engine of which did not have the convenient cowcatcher seat. but bob and joe didn't mind. they became so absorbed in the unusual sights about them that they completely forgot it. a short distance from nairobi they got their first glimpse of really primitive natives. a group of blacks, led by one big fellow who was undoubtedly the chief, waved a friendly greeting as the train passed. "did you notice their teeth?" asked joe, when the natives had been left behind. "yeah. they were filed to sharp points. and did you see their hair?" "hair? that's a good one," laughed joe. "they didn't have any. was every bit shaved off." at last the train entered a region of misty rain forests. occasional mountains became visible, their peaks towering into the distant skies. the time passed slowly but brought much of interest. then one day the explorers found themselves in port bell, at the edge of famed lake victoria. bob and joe went with their fathers down to the water's edge to get a glimpse of the lake. then their eyes almost burst from their heads. chapter xvi off for the unknown far into the distance, as far as the eye could see, stretched the boundless water of lake victoria, resembling nothing so much as a vast ocean. even at the far-away horizon there was no trace of land. "wow!" gasped bob, who was taken totally by surprise. "you're not kidding us about this being a lake, are you?" mr. holton laughed. "we thought it would get you," he said. "boys, you're looking at one of the largest lakes in the entire world. covers an area of nearly twenty seven thousand square miles, and is over two hundred and fifty miles long." "biggest i've ever seen," remarked joe. "and right here in the heart of africa." he had brought a motion-picture camera and now removed it to roll off a fair amount of film. "what's that away over there?" inquired bob wonderingly, pointing to a dark cloud that hovered near the surface of the water. the others gazed intently for several moments. then, when the dark mass was slightly nearer, mr. lewis uttered an exclamation. "if i'm not mistaken, that cloud isn't a cloud," he said, removing his binoculars from their case. "then--what is it?" demanded joe. a moment later his father confirmed his own opinion. "just as i thought," mr. lewis said, peering out through his powerful glasses. "that isn't a cloud at all. it is a big mass of insects." "insects?" repeated bob. "you mean that what looks like a cloud is nothing but a lot of insects flying together?" mr. lewis nodded and passed the binoculars to bob. it required but a second for the youth to observe that his chum's father was right. "man alive!" he murmured. "there must be millions of those little creatures. i sure wouldn't want to get in that swarm." "i shouldn't imagine it would be very pleasant," said mr. holton dryly. they spent several more minutes in walking along the banks of the lake and then turned back into the town. "what will we do now?" asked joe, as they walked along the main street. "we're going to take an automobile," answered his father. "oh, come, dad," joe broke out. "what are you talking about?" "just what i said," answered mr. lewis. "howard and i engaged an automobile. we'll drive to a town called mbarara--that's a good day's journey to the southwest. from there we'll start into the jungle on safari." "or to use the common african term," laughed mr. holton, "we'll 'push off into the blue,' which means start into the unknown." the automobile that the naturalists had engaged was a well-known american make and had seen many miles of service but was still in good condition. it was still early when the four placed their paraphernalia in the automobile and climbed in themselves. mr. holton took the wheel, sending the car ahead at a good pace. the road was little more than a clearing cut out of the dense jungle, and in the rainy season would have been impassable. now, however, it was in good condition. "we're out of the protectorate now, aren't we?" inquired bob, fingering his rifle. "yes. but to tell the truth," began mr. holton, reading his son's thoughts, "i'd rather you wouldn't shoot anything along here. we'll have plenty of that to do later." as a result of this, the chums refrained from using their rifles, although they saw numerous wild creatures that could have been brought down easily. just before nightfall, the little party of explorers chugged into mbarara, which was a mere village at the edge of the primeval forest. here the explorers were welcomed by a huge negro, to whom the automobile belonged. he was well acquainted with mr. holton and mr. lewis, having met them on their previous visit to this town. "boys," said mr. lewis, addressing the chums, "i want you to meet migo, an old friend of ours," indicating the native. "migo, this is bob holton and this, joe lewis." "very glad know you," greeted the native. he was a man of considerable importance in the country about mbarara, and had picked up several languages, all of which he spoke well. the chums exchanged the greeting and then made ready for anything that would be said. "you gon' org'ize another safari?" migo asked the naturalists. "yes," returned mr. lewis. "and we want you to help us find bearers. will you do it?" the answer came at once. "i will," the native said. "how many will you need?" "we have come to the conclusion that twenty-five will satisfy our needs, at least for a while," responded mr. holton. "if we need more we can pick them up at villages along the way. by the way, migo," he went on, struck with a sudden thought, "is it possible to get the guide we had last time? kaika was his name. knew every inch of ground for miles around." migo's face darkened. he shook his head slowly. "him not here any more," he said in grave tones. "why--i don't understand," came from mr. lewis. "where is kaika?" "dead," was the ominous response. there was a short silence, during which the naturalists stared at migo, hardly knowing what to say. "i'm terribly sorry to hear that," said mr. holton at last. "what caused his death?" "he killed by a lion," was the answer from the black. "it was a big man-eater. kaika, he was in a village one day. big man-eater he slip up on kaika. break kaika's back. he die in little time." the news sobered the americans somewhat, for they began to realize anew that africa, although a land of romance and adventure, was also a place of tragedy. especially were bob and joe stirred by migo's words. this was the second casualty they had heard of since landing at the dark continent, the first being the case of mr. seabury in mombasa. "i sincerely hope nothing happens to our expedition," said mr. holton gravely. "especially since the boys are with us." the naturalists were delighted when migo announced that he could secure the services of noko, the native that mr. seabury had mentioned. for he was one of the very few who knew of the forest of mystery. he had recently returned from guiding another safari into a region far to the south. migo assured the whites that he was unusually brave and daring and knew exactly which men to pick out for the expedition. he lived in a little hut at the edge of mbarara. "we'll go there now," said joe's father. "migo, will you come with us? we may need your help." the native was more than willing, and together they went afoot, except for mr. holton, who drove the car. the automobile was now filled to capacity with supplies to be used by the expedition, several necessary additions being furnished by migo, who kept a store. in a small thatched hut they found an unusually tall coal-black native, who nodded as he greeted them. "this noko," migo introduced him. "this man his name holton, this man name lewis. these bob and joe." the towering native smiled broadly and bowed. then he listened to what migo had to say. "they want you guide them into unknown land," migo resumed. "they want shoot, hunt. will you do it?" "yes, _bwana_ [master], i will go," noko said to the naturalists. "where you want hunt?" "in the forest of mystery," said mr. holton. "you know where that is, do you not?" noko nodded vehemently. "yes, _bwana_," he told them. "noko been there two time. it ver' strange place. see strange things. strange animals. there some bad men dere. use long spears. they kill hunters. noko not see them, but hear about them. _baya sana_ [very bad]!" "that is indeed unfortunate," said mr. lewis. "but we are willing to take the chance, if you are." noko bowed. "it well, then," he said. "noko will go into strange forest. noko not afraid." "and you can furnish the bearers?" asked mr. holton. "we'll probably need about twenty-five, perhaps more." the tall native nodded. he explained that inside of two days he could complete preparations for the expedition and would let the whites know when he was ready. after a few more words with noko the naturalists and their sons left his hut and with migo drove the automobile to a large clearing just off the roadway. here they unloaded their supplies and pitched a tent. "we'll stay here until noko has things ready for us to start into the jungle," remarked mr. lewis, lifting a big box to carry it into the tent. late the next afternoon the americans were resting under a large tree beside their temporary camp when they heard a shouting and yelling. looking around they saw noko and a large group of other natives heading toward them. "hurrah!" cried joe. "noko sure has acted quickly. has everything ready for us." the natives were all capable of carrying loads of sixty pounds apiece. and noko, as the _neapara_, or headman, assured the explorers that they could be relied upon. last-minute preparations were made. the naturalists saw that each porter was carrying his share of the provisions. then, picking up their guns and handing them to their bearers, the scientists and the youths waved a farewell to migo and several other natives who had gathered to see the expedition depart. led by noko, the safari made its way toward a distant jungle. they were off--off for the little-known forest of mystery! chapter xvii peril ahead "how long will it take us to get to this forest of mystery?" inquired bob holton, as he and his chum followed the naturalists over the grassy plain. "many, many days," answered mr. lewis. "it is in the very heart of the vast belgian congo and is inaccessible by way of roads and railways." "so much the better for us," laughed joe. "we'll probably find things there that no one else has seen. at least, no other white men." "let's hope you're right, son," came from his father. "howard and i would like to discover some totally unknown animals. but," he added significantly, "we'll have to watch our step. who knows what perils may be hidden in that mysterious forest?" the afternoon was rapidly wearing on, and although the explorers were still on the open plain, noko announced that he desired to get beyond it before nightfall. in the distance they could see a dark jungle, through which they would soon be passing. the grass under their feet was tough and wiry and yielded reluctantly. occasionally small animals darted out before them and disappeared under cover of the grass. none of the large cats, however, showed itself. "wish we could get a look at a lion," remarked bob, tightening his grip on his rifle. "what i'll do to one if i see one!" the naturalists looked back and smiled. "maybe it would work the other way around," chuckled mr. holton. "what would the lion do to you?" "oh, i don't know, dad. i'm not a bad shot. you know that. and i've met wild animals before." "true, bob," came from his father. "but none happened to be as ferocious as old _felis leo_----" "i thought the lion is called _simba_," interrupted joe. a burst of laughter followed. "it's very apparent," said mr. lewis, "that you need to brush up on your natural history." "why?" inquired joe, somewhat surprised. "what was funny?" "still don't get the point, huh?" laughed mr. holton. "well, we'd better tell you before you spring that one before some of our naturalist friends. _felis leo_, boys, is the lion's scientific name. _simba_ is the name given to him by the natives." the boys laughed also when mr. holton had finished. "_simba_ fits him better," mused joe. "of course, it's less distinguished, but, just the same, it's easier to say." at last they found themselves nearing the jungle, after having left the long stretch of veldt behind. as it was almost sundown, the naturalists greatly desired to stop for the night. noko, however, for some reason wanted to plunge into the jungle without delay. perhaps he feared the invasion of wild beasts if camp should be made on the grassland. before long they plunged into the woodland, and their rate of travel was necessarily reduced somewhat. for with all the many sharp-pointed thorns, low bushes, tangled vines, and other obstacles, the adventurers found it difficult to maintain a rapid pace. "keep a sharp lookout," cautioned mr. holton, glancing back for a moment. "this region shouldn't be particularly dangerous, but you never can tell." "only thing i'm especially afraid of," began joe, "is poisonous snakes. can't tell just when you might step on one." "leopards are also dangerous," put in his father. "at any minute one might leap down from a tree and make for us. still, the animals are likely to be frightened by such a large safari as ours." at frequent intervals bob and joe took turns in "shooting" the country with the motion-picture cameras. these latter were not the type that require a tripod, but were relatively simple in design and easy to operate, it being necessary only to press a button as the lens was focused. the jungle was becoming more tangled with every passing minute. huge forest trees were everywhere, many of them having parasitic vines wound tightly around their trunks. strange, odd plants grew about in profusion. bright-colored flowers were everywhere and often diverted the youths' attention from the path. many varieties of butterflies, frequently beautifully marked, fluttered about. once joe was lucky enough to catch one with his hand and at once passed it to mr. holton, who was nearest him. they had trekked for over an hour when suddenly there arose a commotion in the rear ranks of the line of carriers. "what's that?" burst out bob, turning on the instant. "sounds like something's the matter." mr. holton ran back down the path, followed by bob, joe, and the latter's father. then they saw the cause of the disturbance. a veritable army of tiny red ants was attacking the bare feet of the bearers and was doing the job right. there must have been tens of thousands of the little creatures, for they were crawling about in great masses. noko shouted something in the native language, motioning and frowning indignantly. what he said the americans never knew. "look at them," said joe excitedly. "isn't there anything they can do to beat them off?" the natives were becoming frantic with fear and discomfort. they jumped about wildly in attempts to escape from the countless menacing hordes. despite the seriousness of the matter, bob and joe could not help laughing at the actions of the natives. "this ought to be a swell scene," laughed bob, focusing the movie camera on the dancing mob. "and it's all genuine, too. no acting about it." the filming was shortly interrupted, as the attacked bearers rushed madly up the path, apparently intent upon running from the red ants. bob and joe took to their heels with the rest and at last were sufficiently far from the scene to be out of danger. all were panting and perspiring after the short but tiring run. "are we rid of them?" inquired bob. he had not seen a red ant since he had started running. noko nodded. "they gone," he said, stopping for a moment and facing bob. "heap bad. bites hurt." "i shouldn't imagine it is very pleasant to be bitten by them," said joe. "the natives steer clear of them," put in mr. lewis, as the cavalcade again took up the journey. "not infrequently red ants invade villages and drive the entire population to some place of refuge. howard and i have often come upon deserted villages that had been left for that very reason." just before nightfall the party came to a wide stream of muddy water, which wound itself through the dense jungle. from all appearances the stream was very deep. the chums saw that fifty feet farther along there was a log spanning the creek, probably placed there by natives. "wonder if we'll have to cross that?" mused joe, looking with distrust at the improvised bridge. "looks like it," his friend responded. "the path quits off there, you know, and continues from the other side." the words were scarcely spoken when noko stopped and turned to the naturalists. "cross here," he told them, indicating the log. "must be care. not slip." "wow!" cried bob suddenly. "what's the matter?" asked joe. for answer, bob pointed to the stream. there, lurking sluggishly on a flat shelf, was a huge crocodile which looked as if it were waiting for one of the adventurers to plunge into the dark water. chapter xviii the terrible crocodile joe stared at the stream in terrible fascination, half expecting to see many other of the repulsive reptiles make an appearance. but if any more were there, they failed to come in sight. "one's enough, though," mused joe. mr. holton motioned for noko to lead the way. true, it promised to be a trying experience, crossing that slippery log, but the sooner over the better. a rope was handed to each of the whites, who grasped it thankfully. the natives, however, had little need for this aid, accustomed as they were to jungle life. even with the heavy packs, they went easily across to the other side. mr. lewis and mr. holton also stepped across without difficulty. bob, the next to try it, demonstrated his skill by not making a single misstep. joe, who was last, gripped the rope a little more tightly than had the others, for he had never considered himself good at balancing. "take it slowly," cautioned his father, looking on anxiously from the other side. "don't look at the water. it might make you dizzy." joe was more than halfway across when a terrific splashing sound made him glance around impulsively. then his expression changed, and he suddenly grew pale. his foot was slipping--slowly, to be sure, but slipping! suddenly the youth gave a wild cry of fear and then went plunging into the muddy water! there were anxious shouts from the opposite shore as mr. lewis and mr. holton pulled desperately on the rope. bob and noko also lent their efforts, and together the four drew joe slowly but surely toward the bank. "hurry!" cried joe frantically. "the crocodile!" the huge reptile hesitated a moment as it gazed intently at the broken waters. then, as though suddenly grasping what was taking place, it swung into action and swam toward joe. the latter was some fifty feet away, and, aided by the stout rope was swimming rapidly. but the crocodile also was moving at no slow gait! "quick!" shouted mr. lewis, pulling with all his strength. "in less than a minute it will be too late." he placed his section of the rope in the hands of a bearer and grasped his rifle. a second later he pulled the trigger. _bang!_ the sound of the gun was followed by a terrific threshing about as the crocodile gasped out its last breath. then the motion ceased, and the great saurian disappeared into the dark water. "thank goodness!" breathed bob. by now joe had reached the shore and was scrambling up the steep bank. he was a sorry-looking sight as he faced the others. "thought i was a goner," he said, with a ghost of a smile. "but that rifle shot did the trick, all right." "it certainly did," said mr. holton. "ben never fired a more accurate shot. strange, but it never occurred to me to use a rifle. i was only thinking of pulling harder on the rope." "i wasn't sure that i could hit the crocodile," mr. lewis put in. "i imagine i wasn't any too steady after the terrific strain. but through luck, i guess, that bullet penetrated the brain." joe was watersoaked to the skin, and mud was caking on his clothes. "better put on something dry," advised mr. holton, and noko, understanding, nodded. "get heap sick," the native said, using the english he had picked up. "um fever here. soon come night. then be heap cold." "i guess you're right," joe admitted. "then too, it doesn't feel very pleasant with these wet clothes on." it did not take him long to change, and he was soon ready to continue the journey. noko urged that they make unusually good time from now until dark so as to get to a certain clearing before nightfall. of course, they could have stopped and made camp at many places, but the native did not wish to do so. as the guide had hoped, they reached the place he had in mind just as darkness was beginning to enshroud them. during the next few minutes all worked hurriedly, so as to complete making camp before the blackness would handicap them. for night in the tropics comes quickly, there being little or no twilight. the tents were fastened securely to the stakes, the provisions unpacked, and a roaring fire was built. "now for what's coming," grinned bob, smacking his lips. "and am i hungry!" before long a tempting odor filled the air, one that was entirely new to the youths. just what food was being prepared they could not even guess. the taste was excellent, however, as they found a little later. "trust the natives to pick out what's good," remarked mr. lewis, when the meal was over. "they know of many edible wild herbs, roots, and berries that we whites have never tasted." darkness had overtaken them, a darkness that was filled with mystery. from afar came some terrifying scream, uttered perhaps by a wild animal in its death struggle. soon there came another that was even more blood curdling. "listen!" hissed mr. holton, straining his ears to make out the distant cry more distinctly. "what is it?" inquired joe. "a lion," was the answer. "he seems to be coming closer." "gee. maybe we can get a shot at his lordship," grinned bob, picking up his rifle. but if the lion was near the camp he failed to cause a disturbance. perhaps the brute had sensed that someone had invaded his domain, but had also sensed that it would be dangerous to interfere. "what's that over there?" demanded bob, making out something just beyond the fire. "why--it looks like two red lights," observed joe. "and they seem to be coming closer." the naturalists' eyes followed those of their sons. then mr. holton reached for his rifle. "keep quiet," he whispered, taking careful aim at the red "lights." then he fired, the report being followed by a terrible screeching and wailing noise. with one last groan, the animal, whatever it was collapsed. "hurray!" yelled joe. "got him, mr. holton. but what was it?" the victim proved to be a huge lemur, an animal that looked like a cross between a monkey and a cat. it was about three feet long and had an unusually long tail. "but, say, dad," came from bob, "where did that bullet strike? it didn't smash his face." "that's part of the trick of shooting," laughed mr. lewis. "howard saw its eyes in the darkness, and so aimed below at the body." the animal was carefully skinned and the skin placed in preservative. then, this task being over, they sat idly around the fire and chatted merrily. at frequent intervals they could hear cries of wild animals, including the trumpeting of elephants and the mournful groan of hyenas. once they heard a horrid growl that mr. lewis said was made by a leopard. despite the clamor of the african night, bob and joe slept soundly and awoke the next morning greatly refreshed. "drink deeply of this cool air," said mr. lewis, stopping for a moment at the boys' tent. "along towards noon, as you already know, the sun will be far too hot for comfort." the natives were astir, attending to the many tasks that went with breaking camp. breakfast was at once followed by pulling up the stakes, folding the tents, and loading the provisions and other articles in their proper places on the backs of the bearers. soon the expedition was again penetrating deep into the dense jungle. although the traveling was necessarily slow, every hour saw them a little nearer the unknown forest of mystery. along towards noon noko called a halt. it was wholly unwise to continue in the terrific noonday heat of africa. they stopped at a little open space which was devoid of vegetation except for tall grass. everyone rested in the shade of a huge tree, whose branches extended out over a wide area. bob and joe, however, soon tired of remaining so long in one position, and finally decided to explore the country in the immediate vicinity of the safari. "we won't be gone long," remarked bob, speaking to the naturalists. "just want to look around a little." "be careful, boys," warned his father. "always be prepared for dangers." there was a narrow trail that wound toward a little elevation not far away. along this the youths walked, keeping their eyes open for anything unusual. "i wouldn't mind meeting something dangerous," grinned joe, gripping his rifle the tighter. "somehow i want action." "didn't you get enough of that yesterday when you fell in that stream?" asked bob. "it was enough for yesterday," returned joe. "but this is today." suddenly the chums caught sight of something that filled them with wonder. chapter xix a promise of a thrill not ten feet away, at the point where the trail branched, was a huge mound of earth that must have been at least thirty feet high. it was conical in shape, gradually tapering up to a sharp point. "what do you call that?" asked joe, staring in amazement at the formation. "if i'm not mistaken, it's an ant hill," bob answered, moving closer to the mound of earth. often bob had heard of this phenomenon, but until now had not seen it. "a what? ant hill? you don't mean to say that ants built that, do you?" "i guess they did," returned bob. "dad says ants have been known to heap up the earth to a height of forty feet or more." "of all things!" joe could hardly believe what his chum said. "how do they do it, anyway?" "more than i know. they're busy little creatures, though." the boys examined the ant hill with a great deal of curiosity. it seemed almost incredible that ants could construct such a huge piece of architecture. why, it must have required the efforts of tens of thousands of the little creatures! but although greatly interested, bob and joe did not spend too much time here, for they desired to explore a bit longer before returning to the safari. everywhere they went they saw brilliantly colored birds, which often fluttered so near that the youths could almost touch them. luxuriant flowers were also in abundance. the chums trekked on for a distance of perhaps a half mile, then turned back toward the expedition. when they reached the clearing, they found mr. lewis and mr. holton ready to continue the journey. "see anything of interest, boys?" inquired the latter, signaling to noko to lead the way. "plenty," returned joe. "an ant hill, for one thing. and was it a whopper! must have been thirty feet if an inch." "that was only a taste," grinned mr. lewis, with a wink at bob's father. "howard and i have often seen them forty feet or more." as they penetrated deeper into the jungle, the vegetation became denser and consequently more difficult to pass through. often the sun was entirely hidden from view by the thick canopy of foliage above, and the explorers found themselves in a sort of twilight. at other times they would emerge from the leafy depths and make their way over wide plains under the fierce tropical sun. but despite many difficulties of the trail, the expedition made good time and by night had covered a good many miles. they camped beside a narrow, winding stream, which looked as if it were several yards deep. "bet there's fish in there," remarked joe, peering into the dark water of the stream. noko overheard the remark and understood. "um big fish dare," the native said, his eyes following those of joe. "dey good eat." "that's an idea," mused bob. "why not try our luck at fishing?" "sure." joe was more than willing. the youths got out their tackle and fashioned crude poles out of tree branches. then, sitting a short distance apart on the bank, they waited silently, while the naturalists looked on with interest. suddenly, when it had been in the water but a few minutes, joe's float was drawn completely under the water with such force that the pole was almost snatched out of the youth's hands. "pull!" exclaimed bob in a loud whisper. joe obeyed, but found that to do this was harder than he had anticipated. but with the aid of his chum the catch was drawn out easily. all uttered startled exclamations at sight of it. "a tiger fish," pronounced mr. lewis. "only a small one, though." "small one?" cried joe, wheeling about. "what are you talking about, dad? bet that fish weighs ten pounds!" "maybe so," mr. lewis returned. "but it isn't uncommon to catch tiger fish that weigh as much as twenty pounds. in fact, howard hooked one in the zambezi river that tipped the scales at forty-two." "no!" bob and joe both looked up in amazement. "that's right," vouched mr. holton. "it was the biggest i've ever caught." during the next fifteen minutes joe caught four more of the big fish, none, however, being as large as the first one. then, using the knowledge gained on other exploration ventures, he dressed them and placed them over the fire. "doggone the luck!" growled bob. "i didn't get a single bite. this big bum here walks off with a whole river full." "cheer up," consoled mr. holton. "you can at least share the eating of them." "yeah," put in joe. "you can take a whiff at them." the tiger fish proved good eating and were a welcome addition to the usual menu. "and now," began mr. lewis, stretching out to retire after two hours of chatting, "we'd better get to sleep. noko says we'll run into a native village tomorrow. that may delay us for a while." shortly before noon of the next day the explorers heard a chorus of shouts and yells, which came from around a bend, and they soon found themselves facing a large group of natives. noko at once fell into conversation with the chief, with whom he was well acquainted. they talked for several minutes, and in the end the chief motioned for the safari to follow him into the village. that village the two youths found very interesting. it was made up of several rows of thatched huts, about which sat natives dozing or conversing. apparently there was no work being done, the natives probably resting to escape the terrible heat of the sun. the chief escorted the safari to his own huge hut, where he asked that they remain for a while. the bearers were glad to do as requested, so as to get out of the fierce heat. and as mr. holton and mr. lewis were also reluctant to continue the journey at this time of day, they also consented. both the naturalists had picked up a good knowledge of the native language on their frequent trips to africa and so had no difficulty in taking part in the conversation. they translated occasionally to bob and joe. during the course of the talk the chief mentioned something that was of great interest to mr. lewis and mr. holton, and also to the chums. the section around the village was being made unsafe for hunting by a huge, bad-tempered buffalo which would charge any of the natives on sight. one man had been killed and two others severely wounded by the beast, and although numerous parties had set out to kill it, they had so far been unsuccessful in doing so. for some reason the animal never would wander far from a certain spot near a stream. so dangerous was the buffalo that the villagers were afraid to go to the stream to get water and had to follow a roundabout trail. when the chief had finished, mr. lewis spoke up at once. "we"--indicating mr. holton, the youths, and himself--"will make a special effort to kill that buffalo," he told the chief in the native tongue. "we would like to kill the animal and take it back to our own country to show the people. will you help us?" the head native was delighted. certainly he would help. if the bad animal could be killed, he would be very grateful to the whites, and would present them with several wild animal skins. "it is agreed, then," mr. holton said to the chief. "we will set out this afternoon." "this is going to be good," mused bob, giving his chum a nudge in the ribs. chapter xx the buffalo charges afternoon did not come any too soon for bob and joe. by one o'clock the youths had their cameras and rifles in readiness and were eagerly awaiting word from their fathers to begin the hunt. at last the word came. the chief of the tribe had organized a party of ten natives, of which he was the head. they intended to do all they could to aid the whites in seeking out the buffalo. "stick close, boys," advised mr. lewis, speaking to bob and joe. "there's no telling how dangerous that animal may be." the americans were led by the chief, who directed them out of the village and toward the stream near which the beast stayed. the trail they followed was overgrown somewhat by the heavy plant growth, indicating that it had not been in use for some time. joe carried a camera, while bob, as the best shot of the two, had a high-powered rifle. both youths looked ahead in eager anticipation. "here's hoping i can get a good picture of him," said joe, keeping his camera in readiness. "movies of a buffalo hunt! sounds good, doesn't it?" "and i'm going to try to be the gink that pots him off," came from bob, inspecting his rifle. "he won't live long if he gets one of these high-velocity bullets in his hide." mr. holton looked around. "don't take any chances, son," he warned. "better not fire till ben or i give the word. there's nothing quite as bad as a wounded buffalo." bob looked at his chum and groaned. "guess the honor won't go to me after all," he said. it was a distance of about a half mile to the stream. the hunting party made good time, reaching the stream before anyone had expected. "now where's that buffalo?" queried joe, as he pushed the release on his movie camera. "shhh!" hissed mr. holton. "i thought i heard a grunt just then. listen!" "you're right, howard," murmured mr. lewis. "there's something over in those bushes." they had not long to wait. suddenly there came a loud grunt, and a moment later a huge buffalo appeared and faced them. huge and ferocious looking, it seemed a very symbol of power. "he's going to charge!" cried bob, raising his rifle. "look out, mr. lewis!" joe's father acted on the moment, aiming and firing with unusual rapidity. he pumped still another shot into the tough hide. but the buffalo is possessed of an enormous amount of vitality and often retain enough energy to make a fatal charge, even though mortally wounded. so it was with this beast. it lunged toward mr. lewis, who had fired the second barrel of his rifle. "get him, somebody!" shouted the naturalist, preparing to run. "hurry! i can't reload in time." just then bob decided on a plan of action. he rushed wildly toward the animal, shouting at the top of his voice, hoping to divert its attention from mr. lewis, who, unarmed, would be in terrible plight if the beast should charge him. his plan worked--to a certain extent. instead of rushing at mr. lewis, the infuriated animal singled out joe. the latter was operating the camera, and at first did not notice the oncoming foe. "look out!" yelled bob. "get out of the way, joe! quick, or you're a goner!" joe heard just in time to step quickly to one side, his eyes wide with an awful fear. _bang! bang!_ two reports rent the air, and each bullet found its mark. mr. holton and bob stood with smoking rifles awaiting results. they made ready to fire more if necessary. but the four cartridges proved more than the brute could stand. suddenly it collapsed in a heap, almost at the feet of one of the natives. "whew!" gasped joe, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "that was what i'd call a close call." "close is right," added mr. lewis. "if bob and howard hadn't come across with those two shots--well, it's pretty hard to say just what would have happened." "how did it happen he didn't fall when you hit him, mr. lewis?" asked bob. "both of your bullets went to a vital spot." "what a buffalo can't stand is hard to mention," joe's father responded. "in addition to having a tough hide, they can take almost any kind of punishment." the blacks looked at the hunters with intense admiration, for they had accomplished a deed that had not been thought possible by natives in that vicinity. the naturalists bent over to skin the animal. then, observing something, mr. holton uttered a word of surprise. "look here," he pointed out. "there's part of a native spear in the buffalo's side." the naturalist had made no mistake. from the tough hide of the brute a native spear protruded out several inches. it was rotting with age, having been wielded many weeks before. the chief fell into conversation with the scientists, telling them that one of his warriors had thrust the weapon into the buffalo some time before, but apparently without result. "that accounts for his unusually bad temper," said mr. lewis. "he was probably aggravated by the wound caused by the spear and was ready for trouble at the slightest chance." the skinning process was completed at last, and the skin was carried back to the village by the natives. on arriving at the settlement, the americans were given a royal welcome by those who had not gone on the hunt. the simple blacks danced around the explorers happily, rejoicing that the dangerous buffalo had been killed. "_mbogo okuri!_" seemed to be the prevalent words spoken by the blacks. "what are they saying?" inquired bob. "that means 'the buffalo is dead,'" explained his father. the chief did as he had promised and gave the naturalists several valuable animal skins which he or his men had secured. among them was that of a leopard, an ant bear, and a serval cat. and in addition the naturalists had the buffalo skin. "fortunate for us that we arrived in the village when we did," smiled mr. holton. "as a result of timing so well, we got several worth-while trophies." "and had a lot of fun at it, too," put in bob. "speaking of fun," went on his father, "we'll have plenty of that tonight." "how's that?" asked joe. "the chief is going to prepare a feast in our honor," was the answer. "a feast?" repeated bob. "what will there be to eat?" mr. holton laughed. "perhaps it would be better not to know that," he chuckled. "but we'll have to eat a little, or at least to make a big show of it. the buffalo meat won't taste so bad, though." the short remainder of the afternoon passed slowly, the boys and their elders resting in the hut furnished them. they did not care to do anything now but take it easy until nightfall. and while they sat they tried to fancy just what would take place at the coming feast. darkness came at last, and with it the usual chill of night. the explorers were glad indeed when some of the chief's men built huge roaring fires, about which the celebration was to take place. at a call from the head native practically all of the simple villagers assembled in the great open space beside the fires. the reflection made bright perhaps a hundred black faces, all solemn. the noisy chattering ceased abruptly as the big chief took his place before the group. even bob and joe were impressed by the solemnity of the ceremony. during the next five minutes the head native delivered a long speech, to which everyone listened closely. bob and joe, however, could not understand a word. they were tiring of listening when the chief stopped and took his place in the center of the group. "wonder what's coming next?" mused joe. his question was answered a little later. a large number of natives rose and moved over to the fires. soon they engaged in a wild dance, one that the youths had never witnessed before. bob had fitted a camera with a night lens, and was "purring" away at the yelling throng, delighted at such an unusual opportunity. the dancing lasted for nearly an hour. shortly after, the food was served, consisting of wild herbs, berries, and roasted meat. although bob and joe were ignorant of the exact contents of the various courses, they ate of practically everything, not finding the taste as bad as they had anticipated. following the meal there was another wild dance, which ended with a loud burst of applause. then, after a few more short speeches, the celebration came to an end. "what did you think of it?" chuckled mr. lewis, as he prepared to retire. "it certainly wasn't tame," answered bob with a smile. "got it all over a football game," added joe. early the next morning the explorers were up making preparations to leave the village and continue their journey. they had everything in readiness by eight o'clock, and bidding the chief and his people good-bye, the safari made its way up the path. "now towards the forest of mystery," said mr. lewis, glad to again be on the trail. they hiked steadily for several days without anything of note happening. the jungle became denser as they penetrated deeper toward the little-known regions. and with this luxuriance of plant life came an abundance of wild animals and birds. the naturalists and bob demonstrated their skill with a rifle often by bringing down not a few unusual specimens, while joe usually stuck to his movie camera. on one occasion they had been traveling over a wide plain, one that was several miles across, and were nearing a jungle when suddenly joe caught sight of something lying in the tall grass beside the jungle. he started to move over to the object, but mr. holton called him back. "wait," cautioned the naturalist, raising his rifle. "don't go over there without a gun. it might be a lion." they advanced slowly for several rods. then they became aware of an unpleasant odor. "i think i know everything now," said mr. lewis, and bob's father nodded. "that's a dead animal--probably an antelope. it has been killed by some other animal--a lion, maybe." as they advanced they kept their eyes open for any dangerous creature that might return to the carcass, but saw nothing. mr. lewis had surmised correctly. the kill was a wildebeest, a member of the antelope family. it had apparently been dead only a short time, and only a little of the flesh was torn from the body. "what do you suppose killed that?" asked bob. "_simba_ [lion]," spoke up noko at once. "you think so?" queried mr. lewis. noko nodded vigorously. "_simba_ he come back night. eat all _simba_ want of _nyumbu_." "he may come back tonight," said mr. lewis, "but he won't eat all he wants." chapter xxi two ferocious specimens "what do you mean by that remark, mr. lewis?" asked bob wonderingly. "why won't the lion eat all he wants?" "simply that he won't live long enough," was the answer. "what? you mean we're going to shoot him?" persisted bob. "exactly," joe's father said. "we'll build a _boma_--that's a thorn enclosure--and hide behind it. then when the lion comes to devour this carcass we'll pot him off. howard and i would like especially to have a good lion skin, and this seems to be a wonderful opportunity. of course, the museum wants several, but whether they get that many we'll have to wait and see." under the naturalists' directions they set about constructing the thorn enclosure. they built this but a short distance from the kill, so as to get a good view of the lion when and if the latter should return. the task was completed just before dusk. a cold supper was served, so as to prevent the possibility of a fire frightening the lion if it should be in that vicinity. then, rising from the meal, the explorers made their way to the _boma_. "you know," began mr. holton uneasily, "i feel a little ashamed to hunt that animal this way. this sort of thing is generally considered unsportsmanlike." "true," joe's father said at once. "but still, chances like this don't come often. and when at very infrequent intervals they do come, i'm in favor of taking advantage of them." as the darkness closed in on them, bob held his rifle tighter, joe focused the movie camera. mr. lewis and mr. holton, too, waited breathlessly. soon a majestic moon rose over the vast wilderness, making it almost as light as day. the rustling of the wind gave way to a chorus of wild animal screams. suddenly bob and joe heard something that struck terror to their hearts. it was the most hideous sound they had ever listened to. "wh-what was that?" demanded joe breathlessly. "only a hyena," returned his father. "that's what they call the laughing of the hyena. it isn't often that one can hear it." mr. lewis pointed to something not five feet away. there, making its way slowly toward the carcass, was a large jackal, which was soon joined by three others. they were moving stealthily, as though undecided whether to sample the dead wildebeest. "look," whispered bob. "there are two hyenas. they're going to risk eating, i guess." the jackals and hyenas formed a circle about the carcass and began to tear away at the flesh. near as they were to the _boma_, they could easily have been shot by the hunters. "if the lion doesn't hurry there won't be anything left for him," whispered bob. "maybe he's forgotten all about coming," suggested joe, who was filming the scene. mr. holton shook his head. "he'll be here," the naturalist said. "just taking his time, that's all." as the minutes wore on, the waiting hunters were becoming more impatient. they twisted about uneasily, hoping that before long something would happen. then it did. "listen!" hissed mr. holton. "something's coming this way. hear it?" "what is it?" inquired joe. before anyone could attempt to answer, there came a terrible growl, and the next moment a huge lion broke through the foliage of the near-by jungle. it rushed angrily at the circle of jackals and hyenas. the latter saw it coming and at once took flight, all escaping but one big hyena. with a tremendous blow of one of its huge claws, the lion broke the hyena's back and sent it rolling over the ground. with a convulsive twitch it straightened out, dead. the breathless hunters had watched the tragedy with a terrible fascination, keeping on the alert for any emergency. all knew there was a possibility that the lion might catch their scent, even though there was little or no wind. it was this that made the naturalists and bob tighten their grips on their rifles. with a deep, vibrating roar that seemed to roll along the ground, the lion looked around defiantly. then, apparently satisfied that nothing was near to disturb him, he bent his efforts toward eating the carcass. "get ready," said mr. holton in a very low whisper, throwing his gun to his shoulder. "when i give the word, fire." bob aimed carefully at the beast's heart; joe cranked away at the movie camera. "fire!" said mr. holton in a loud voice. three rifle shots rent the air. the lion turned on the instant, then collapsed in a heap. "hurrah!" yelled joe, jumping to his feet. "killed him dead as a door nail. good----" "look out!" shouted mr. lewis suddenly. "there's another. a lioness!" bob worked furiously to push the bolt on his rifle. but before he had done so, the guns of his father and mr. lewis spoke. the bullets stopped the brute for only a second. then, with a horrible roar, it plunged toward the _boma_. before the two naturalists could again aim and fire, it would be upon them! then, when things hung in the balance, bob pulled the trigger. there was a convulsive leap as the lioness groaned out her last breath. she fell to the ground with a dull thud and lay still. "good work," commented joe. "that bullet of yours came in just at the right time." "it certainly did," put in mr. lewis. "of course, howard and i might have gotten her, but then again, we might not." as an added precaution, the naturalists put another bullet into each of the lions. after waiting a few moments for any more of the big beasts to appear, they went out to examine the ones they had killed. "whoppers, all right," remarked joe. "this big one here must be at least nine feet long from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail." "both are unusually fine specimens," declared mr. lewis, as he removed his long hunting knife. the americans were soon joined by noko and several of the bearers, who were attracted to the scene by the rifle shots. noko uttered a cry of surprise at the sight of the beasts. "um big _simba_," he said, his eyes on the dead lions. "dey bad _simba_. um very bad." "bad's the right word for it," said joe gravely. "they wouldn't have left a grease spot of us if given the chance. but they'll not cause any trouble now." it required a long while for the scientists to complete the task of skinning the lions, but at last they finished and moved back to camp. the whites received much praise from the bearers, who recognized at once that the brutes had been unusually dangerous. the blacks' respect for the hunters appeared to be increased greatly. for anyone who could bring down such vicious adversaries as these must be fearless and daring. the youths and their fathers did not remain up much longer. after the strenuous day they were more than ready for a good rest. "sleep well," was the last mr. lewis said as he repaired to the tent. but somehow bob did not sleep well. try as he did he could not divert his thoughts from the exciting lion hunt. true, he was sleepy and somewhat tired, but notwithstanding this he could not keep his eyelids closed. he thought of going out to join the _askari_, or native guard, who was keeping watch some thirty feet away. but he changed his mind and decided to make another attempt to fall asleep. suddenly he sat up with a start, straining his eyes to make out the jungle more easily. what was that he had heard? it sounded like stealthily moving feet. "maybe there's another lion prowling around," the youth thought, picking up his rifle. chapter xxii a pitiful sight with the passing moments, the padding noise grew louder. bob raised his rifle to fire. if any wild beast was intent upon charging camp, he would be ready to give it a royal welcome, the youth thought. then he caught sight of what resembled two luminous beads. they were slowly moving closer to the camp. as bob watched, he saw that a huge hyena was making its way toward the two lion skins. the beast probably intended to grab the trophies in its powerful jaws and flee. "here goes," bob murmured, and taking careful aim at the hyena he fired. at once the brute stiffened out and then lay still. the bullet had done its work well, entering the brain. mr. lewis and mr. holton came running out, followed by noko and several others. they looked inquiringly at bob. "what happened?" asked joe, who had also been aroused. "nothing much," laughed bob. "i shot a hyena, that was all. it was going after those lion skins." "hmm. good work, son." mr. holton stooped over to examine the body of the hyena. "thought you were asleep, you rascal," chuckled mr. lewis. "somehow i couldn't keep from thinking about shooting those lions," said bob. "i had a notion to get up and walk around a little, but finally decided to stay where i was. then i heard the hyena." the youths and their fathers again retired, after the latter had instructed the guard to keep a close watch for any other night marauders. but nothing further disturbed the peace, and they awoke the next morning ready for anything the day might bring. breakfast over, the safari again took up its long journey. as the explorers penetrated deeper into the african wilds they saw new and marvelous sights: strange rocky formations; tall, flowering trees; unusual animals. it seemed to bob and joe that every minute was a bit more exciting than the one preceding it. one day they left a long stretch of jungle behind and found themselves on a wide level plain. "look over there and tell me what you see," said joe to his chum. "why--it's a herd of elephants!" gasped bob. "look, mr. lewis, dad!" "wonderful sight, isn't it?" mr. holton gazed in interest. the naturalists decided to make camp on the plain, so as to get a short rest before again entering the jungle. then, when the hot afternoon sun would become less oppressive, they would plunge on toward the forest of mystery. "while you're resting here, suppose joe and i explore around a little," said bob, picking up his rifle. "we-ll--all right, boys," returned mr. holton, with a look at joe's father. "but don't take any chances. and don't wander too far from camp." glad of the chance to be on their own, the chums walked over the plain toward the herd of distant animals. "maybe we can plug an elephant," grinned joe, "purring" the movie camera. "maybe," came from the other. "but then maybe not. it would be dangerous to tackle that herd single-handed. suppose they'd charge us. then where would we be?" "probably on our faces in the dirt," joe said. "or perhaps"--grinning--"flying through the air." "doesn't sound very nice, does it?" asked bob. "no, we'd better be content to watch those elephants from a safe distance." "shucks!" joe frowned. "i want pictures of them. how am i going to get them without getting close?" "all right. have it your own way. but i'm not going to take any chances." cautiously the boys stalked through the high grass toward the elephant herd. luckily the wind was blowing in their faces, so that the elephants did not catch the human scent. and as these huge brutes have comparatively short eyesight, the chums were able to move very close. "how's this?" asked bob. "up a little farther," urged joe, holding the camera ready. they were within twenty yards of the huge lumbering beasts and were naturally looking on with great interest. there was a thick growth of tall bushes a little to one side. joe suggested that they plunge into this so as to be able to get nearer to the elephants. then they heard a loud crashing noise, the sound of a heavy body plunging through the brush. it was coming from around a bend in a narrow trail. "what's that?" bob stopped and listened. "more than i know. maybe some wild animal. sounds---look out, bob! a big elephant!" there was terror in joe's voice. he looked to his chum to use his rifle. a second later the huge head of a charging elephant appeared, its trunk thrown into the air, its eyes glaring. it must have been over ten feet high, for it towered far above the two youths. acting on the instant, bob and joe darted quickly to one side, their only thought being safety from grave danger. bob threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired. "you got him!" cried joe. "but it doesn't seem to stop him." "hide's too tough," his chum said. the charging beast could not turn as quickly as did the youths. it went plunging on through the bushes. apparently it had no intention of seeking out its enemies, for it continued through the heavy growth and disappeared behind a low spreading tree. bob and joe were in a state of high excitement after their thrilling encounter. perspiration was dripping from their bodies; their breath was coming in short gasps. "too bad i was too scared to take movies of that charge," moaned joe. "they'd sure have been interesting." "you ought to be glad you're here," said bob. "let's get back to the safari." the chums had not gone far on the plain when they met their fathers and noko, who had set out to secure a better view of the distant herd of elephants. "we heard a rifle shot," said mr. lewis. "what was the meaning of it?" the youths looked at each other. they had been a bit foolish in moving so close to the elephants, especially since neither carried a rifle large enough to be effective against such large brutes. "an elephant charged us," said bob at last. "he did? tell us about it." mr. holton's interest was aroused at once. aided by his friend, bob related the encounter as accurately as he could. when he had finished, the naturalists looked grave. "you shouldn't take chances like that, boys," mr. holton said. "luck can't hold out forever, you know." they trekked back to camp, where they remained for a few hours longer. then, thoroughly refreshed, they resumed the march. farther on, the youths caught sight of a large group of giraffes which towered above the small, stunted trees about them. other, more graceful, animals could be seen. the explorers emerged from a dense growth of bushes when they suddenly saw something that moved them to pity. standing unsteadily, its legs trembling, its eyes glazed, was a large eland, which was evidently at the point of death. the poor animal remained on its feet only with the greatest of difficulty. but something else caused the explorers to be still more touched. three vultures were circling around the stricken animal, waiting for it to fall. "look over there," murmured bob, pointing to something at the edge of the bushes. a trio of hyenas was also waiting silently for the eland to die. they never took their eyes from the animal, although they made no move to action. "there's work here," said mr. lewis, raising his rifle. "we must put that poor animal out of its misery." "and i'm going to plug those doggone hyenas," muttered bob. chapter xxiii moments of horror two reports rent the air. without an outcry the big eland collapsed. a hyena, too, had been hit by bob's rifle. "one good turn done," said mr. lewis, handing his rifle to his gun bearer. "wait till i shoot the rest of those hyenas," came from bob, who was taking aim with a high-velocity .22 rifle. "um get bigger gun. no kill um with little gun." noko was watching bob curiously. "watch me and see," smiled bob. using his knowledge of marksmanship, the youth killed all of the hyenas by sending bullets through the eye to the brain. the stupid animals had not made the slightest move to flee, even though they saw their companions go down. but scarcely had the cloud of smoke lifted when the explorers saw something else making for the body of the eland. three large black vultures perched on the carcass. more carefully aimed bullets from bob's rifle finished them instantly. "ready now?" chuckled mr. holton. "sure," bob answered. "that job's over. somehow i couldn't leave without letting those hyenas and vultures have it." a little farther on, the adventurers came to a narrow trail that wound through the tall grass. as it headed in their direction, they followed it. for the last ten minutes bob and joe had fallen to the rear of the safari. now, when they returned to join their fathers, mr. lewis turned to them. "noko says there may be a native village a little farther on," he said. "howard and i think it might be best to make for it, because the blacks may be able to tell us of some big game in this vicinity. we'd like especially to have a fine leopard skin." "leopard! boy! sounds exciting," grinned joe. "here's hoping we see one--or more, for that matter." they trudged on for over an hour. then, when they were beginning to fear that no village was near, they rounded a bend in the bushes and found themselves facing a group of thatched huts. "came to it at last," mused bob. "but--where are the people? looks like nobody's at home." "maybe they've gone visiting," remarked joe with a laugh. mr. holton suggested that they move on into the village to see if there was any evidence of recent human habitation. leaving the bearers at a little clearing to wait, the four americans and noko walked toward the grass huts, keeping on the alert for anything human or animal. "looks like it's deserted, all right," remarked joe. "not a soul anywhere." "what's that?" cried bob suddenly, stopping at once. "what?" questioned his chum. "sounded like---come on, joe. let's go around this hut and see what we can see." the youths left the naturalists and noko and made their way to the other side of a large thatched house. then, horror stricken, they saw what had caused bob to utter his sudden exclamation. coiled but a few scant feet away was a long black mamba, the most poisonous snake of africa. it was eyeing the human invaders staringly, apparently with evil purpose. for one awful moment the youths gazed in terrible fascination, unable to take their eyes from the hideous reptile. then, sensing the need for flight, they turned to leave. but they hesitated. "it's going to strike!" gasped joe. "and neither of us has a gun!" bob looked about wildly for some club or other weapon with which to defend himself and his friend, but saw none. for a second he thought of turning to run, but he soon realized that the deadly snake could probably move much faster than could he. what greatly puzzled the youths was why the mamba appeared to be taking the aggressive. perhaps, however, it was angered because frightened. just then the youths heard a shout from mr. lewis and then the report of a rifle. the snake's head was shattered into a horrid pulp, which almost sickened the boys. it writhed about feebly, then was still. mr. lewis and mr. holton rushed toward their sons. "you sure fired that shot in time," said bob with a shudder. "i was beginning to think it was all over with us." "it was a terribly narrow escape," breathed mr. holton, wiping the perspiration from his brow. "we should have warned you about mambas." "why?" asked bob. "they aren't here any more than anywhere else, are they?" "yes," returned mr. holton emphatically. "a deserted village nearly always contains at least one mamba. for some reason they like to pick on such a place. but the main thing now," he added, "is that you're still alive." with one last glance at the dead reptile the explorers turned toward the safari. as they passed through the village they kept a close watch for any more of the dreaded snakes, but saw none near. they did see another quite a distance away, although it did not apparently catch sight of them. "i've been wondering just where the villagers are and why they left their huts," remarked mr. lewis, when they had rejoined the others of the expedition. "maybe those mambas drove them out," suggested bob, but noko shook his head. "no rain now, and dey go to place where is water," was the opinion voiced by the head native. "by jupiter! perhaps you're right, noko," exclaimed joe's father. "well, then, if that is true, there is no use waiting for them to return. let's go." under the expert leadership of the veteran noko, the expedition was making good time toward the little-known forest of mystery. if their luck should hold, they would reach it in but a few days. "according to mr. seabury, back in mombasa, we should come to a very wide, shallow stream. a little beyond this is the forest of mystery," said mr. holton, as that night they were camped at the foot of a little knoll. "we should be nearing that stream now." mention of this out-of-the-way place revived the name of thomas seabury, the missing brother of the man in mombasa. "wonder if we'll find him," mused joe, gazing off into the dark depths of the jungle. "hard telling," returned his friend. "about all we can do is to ask natives if they have seen or heard of him. and if they haven't--well, it doesn't look like there'll be much chance of coming across him." "you're right, bob," affirmed mr. lewis. "africa is a very large place, and he might have left that unknown forest long before. but we'll certainly do all we can to locate him." for two successive days the safari plunged on steadily without coming to the stream. late in the afternoon the explorers were crossing a stretch of open country when suddenly mr. lewis called a halt. he pointed to something that was coming toward them. it was an impala, a species of antelope, and was evidently in the last stage of exhaustion. running wildly and without aim, the animal was a pitiable sight. then the adventurers saw something else. two african hunting dogs were pursuing the impala and were gaining rapidly. in but a short time they would be upon it. "quick!" exclaimed mr. holton, grasping his rifle from its bearer. "we must shoot those dogs before they get that fine big antelope. ben, you take the one ahead. i'll pick the one behind. now!" _bang! crack!_ the sound of the guns was mingled with a last cry from one of the hunting dogs as it rolled over. the other had been killed instantly. "two less pests in the world," murmured mr. lewis, and then, turning to bob and joe: "all the hunters in africa couldn't kill off as many beautiful harmless animals as the african hunting dog." "why? how do they do it?" inquired joe. "they usually hunt in packs," his father replied. "and the antelope or other animal that they go after is as good as doomed. they never give up till they get the one they're after. worst thing is, they kill new animals every day and eat only a small part of the flesh. then they single out more." "the pests!" growled bob. "from now on i'm going to plug every one i see. they----" he did not finish, for just at that moment the party emerged from a thick jungle growth to see a wide stream just ahead. beyond it was an endless mass of towering trees, which grew so close together as to form a veritable jungle. bob uttered a cry of delight. "the forest of mystery!" he broke out. "we've found it!" chapter xxiv into the forest of mystery "i believe you're right, son," observed mr. holton, his eyes scanning the landscape. "this is certainly the wide stream that george seabury said we'd see. then too, thompson, that naturalist we saw in san francisco, mentioned it." "that distant forest sure looks mysterious," remarked joe, gazing ahead at the mass of towering trees. "how large is it?" "a good many miles across," mr. lewis answered. "in fact, several score. and all heavy, untrodden wilderness." "so much the better for us," smiled bob. "but say. how are we going to cross this wide stream? must be nearly a quarter of a mile to the other side." "hardly that," laughed his father. "but to answer your question: if the water isn't too deep, we'll ford it; but if this isn't possible, we'll have to build rafts." noko thought it advisable to cross before night and make camp on the other side. the head native walked down to the bank and waded out into the water. much as the explorers had expected, it was shallow, not reaching to the waist. the whites donned their hip boots and, led by noko, waded out into the stream. they were followed by the bearers and guards. although the water was sluggish and dirty, the going was good, and the adventurers reached the opposite bank in rapid time. there bob and joe and the naturalists removed their high boots and made ready to pitch the tents, as darkness was not far off. "i can hardly wait to get into that forest of mystery," said joe, stopping for a moment to glance toward the west. "something tells me we'll see sights, all right." "perhaps," came from bob. "but then, maybe not. it might not be much different from what we've already passed through." as the darkness enshrouded them, several of the natives built huge fires which sent their warmth far afield. the cold of the african night was soon forgotten. before long the odor of delicious food made the chums smack their lips in anticipation. "tomorrow," remarked mr. holton during the meal, "we may see sights for sore eyes." "and tomorrow can't come any too soon for me," put in joe. nothing happened during the night. the next morning all were up early preparing to plunge into the little-known forest. they had their belongings packed in record time and were soon again on the march. they covered the distance to the forest sooner than expected. all felt the blood tingle in their veins as they entered the dense leafy depths. for in the fastness of this unexplored place could be almost anything. "keep your guns in readiness," warned mr. lewis. "there's no telling when we may need them." "wish we'd see a gorilla--like that big one in the circus," mused joe. "gorillas live only in certain places, chiefly in mountainous regions," explained mr. holton. "it is very unlikely that we'll run across any. but of course we can't be sure." if the jungle had been dense before, it was almost impenetrable now. more than once the explorers received cuts and bruises from sharp thorns. their high shoes protected them from most snakes, the dreaded mamba being one exception. so, although there were difficulties of the trail, the adventurers forgot them in their eagerness to explore. farther on they came to something that made them gasp in wonder. before them, in an open space, was a large hill of earth that must have been at least forty feet high. very wide at the base, it tapered up like a cone. "don't tell us this is an ant hill," muttered bob, as he and the others stopped to examine it. "it is just that," smiled his father. "whopper, isn't it?" "biggest yet," pronounced joe. "and just think, it was built by countless little white ants." as he stood looking at the hill, joe noticed his chum going around to one side. "what are you going to do?" joe inquired. bob answered the question by climbing the side of the hill. apparently he found the task easy, for he was soon halfway to the top. in a short time he had reached it and was looking down at his father and friends. "fine view," he smiled, gazing off into the depths of the forest. "that is, it would be if there weren't so many trees around. one good thing, though: i can see over the bushes and jungle growth." "anything worth while around here?" queried joe. bob did not answer for a moment. then suddenly his gaze remained fixed on something off in the distance. "i believe--yes, that's what it is." "what?" demanded his father impatiently. "i take it that you see something of interest." "there's a big rhino away over there," the youth said, keeping his eyes glued to the distant object. "a rhino? where?" mr. lewis looked up suddenly. "down that narrow trail over there," was the answer. "it seems to be coming this way." "climb down from there, son, and we'll investigate," said mr. holton, taking his rifle. "a rhinoceros hide is what we want above everything." led by the naturalists, the party followed the narrow trail that bob had pointed out. it was well beaten, being probably long used by wild animals. joe, holding a movie camera, was ready to film any encounter that they might have. bob, as usual, carried his rifle. but when, fifteen minutes later, they saw no traces of the rhino, the explorers were ready to give up the chase. for even in that short time they had gone farther than bob said the animal had been. just when they were at the point of retracing their footsteps, joe burst through a mass of foliage and at once called the others. "look what i've found," he said proudly. "a water hole where wild animals come to drink. see the tracks on the ground?" "jove!" exclaimed mr. holton. "that's exactly what it is. looks like about every animal imaginable comes to this place. here are monkeys' footprints. and over here are leopard tracks. wild pigs and buffaloes have been here, too." joe regarded the naturalists quizzically for a moment. "are we in any special hurry to go on?" he asked. "not especially," returned mr. holton. "why do you ask?" "i'd like to take movies of the animals when they come here tonight to drink," went on joe. "why can't we make camp near here?" "hmm!" mr. holton considered for a minute. "why not do it, howard?" asked joe's father. "after all, this is a wonderful opportunity for the boys to take movies. and while we're waiting here, you and i can look around for new specimens." "i'm willing," mr. lewis said. "we can pitch our tents a few hundred yards from here so as not to be too near and frighten the animals." noko found a suitable camping spot quite a distance away. after the tents were erected he set out with mr. lewis to explore the surrounding country for wild life. bob and joe remained behind with mr. holton to "take it easy," as joe remarked. late that afternoon mr. lewis and the native returned with several interesting specimens, among them being a peculiar bird that so far as the naturalists knew was unknown to the civilized world. "now's when our work comes in," remarked bob, as he and joe started down the path. "we're going to construct a thorn enclosure near that water hole. then we can hide behind it and wait for animals to come tonight to drink. that way we can take moving pictures of them without their suspecting us." "good idea," said his father. "need any help?" bob shook his head and with his chum walked to the water hole. there they built a _boma_, behind which they could hide. they made it look very natural, so that animals would not become suspicious. after an early supper the naturalists and their sons went to the water hole to wait, leaving noko behind with the safari. twilight came, and with it a brilliant moon. darkness soon fell over the vast forest. their hearts beating rapidly, the two youths waited. they held the movie cameras ready for instant action. "hark!" said mr. lewis suddenly. "what's that noise?" "i didn't hear anything," said bob, straining his ears to listen. then suddenly they heard a most unearthly sound, unlike anything they had ever known. it was repeated again and again, always more blood-curdling. then at last it died away in horrible moanings. it was some time before anyone spoke, for all had been not a little frightened by the uncanny cries. "was that a wild animal?" demanded joe, who had almost turned pale. "i've never heard any wild animal that could make that kind of a noise," returned mr. holton, and joe's father shook his head. "it didn't sound like people, either," came from joe. "ugh! gives me the shivers. maybe it was a ghost." mr. lewis tried to laugh. "use your reason, son," he said. "there aren't any such things as ghosts." for the time being another much different sound made the explorers forget the mysterious cries. it was a loud trumpeting that seemed to come from but a short distance away. "elephants," pronounced mr. holton. "they're coming this way." chapter xxv the fury of the storm while all waited silently, the sound of moving footsteps could be heard. a little later two huge elephants broke through the foliage and made for the water hole. they drank great draughts of the refreshing liquid, and then with their long trunks sluiced themselves thoroughly. bob and joe watched interestedly. they had but one fear. what if the purring of the movie cameras could be heard by the huge brutes? would they charge the little hidden group, or would they immediately take flight into the dark recesses of the jungle? as the moments passed, the adventurers grew more hopeful. thus far the elephants had not heard. perhaps, after all, the noise was not loud enough. "listen!" hissed bob, catching his chum's arm. "something else is coming." he had scarcely spoken when from another direction emerged a troop of wildebeests, followed by three zebras. still more wild creatures showed up soon after, including an oryx, thompson's gazelle, hartebeest, and numerous monkeys. "isn't that a wonderful sight?" whispered mr. holton, never taking his eyes from the scene. "best ever," came from joe. a little later they heard a series of strange grunts, and a huge wart hog moved in a slow, awkward gait toward the water hole. "a drinking place is the best spot there is to see a number of different kinds of animals side by side," remarked mr. lewis, also speaking in a very low whisper. "they don't seem to notice each other," observed joe. "they just keep on drinking as though nothing else were there." again footsteps were heard, and with them the sound of a heavy body crashing through the underbrush. then there suddenly appeared but a short distance away a monstrous buffalo, which was also intent upon satisfying its thirst. "be trouble now," said bob. "wait and see," smiled his father. much to the boys' surprise the buffalo paid not the slightest attention to the other animals. it found a place at the pond and began drinking. "that's a new one on me," whispered bob, and joe nodded. "looks like there'd be trouble, with all those different kinds of creatures there at once." "you see they have a common interest: to quench their thirst," explained mr. lewis. "in such a case peace reigns." but ten minutes later the explorers--and very obviously the animals--heard something that was not so suggestive of peace. it was the deep, vibrating roar of a lion, which seemed to be coming nearer. the effect was immediate. uneasiness prevailed among the more harmless animals; some of them turned about and disappeared into the jungle depths, while others pricked up their ears and listened. but there was no mistaking the distant roar. a lion was abroad stalking for prey. as the minutes passed, mr. lewis and mr. holton held their rifles ready for instant action. at every second they feared that the lion would appear. bob and joe, although realizing that perhaps their lives were in danger, continuing to film the scene, delighted at the unusualness of the occasion. suddenly the explorers' eyes opened wide, for the thing that they beheld was exceedingly large and powerful. a great maned lion moved slowly toward the water hole! their hearts in their mouths, bob and joe half expected to see the beast make toward their _boma_. but it did not. long before, the horde of animals that had been drinking had vanished, leaving the pond to take refuge from the king of beasts. the great lion seemed to sense that this had taken place. it uttered a tremendous roar of defiance, then bent its head to drink. "good chance for a shot," murmured bob, barely making himself heard. but the naturalists shook their heads. "one animal is enough to shoot from a _boma_," whispered mr. lewis. "somehow i feel that it doesn't give them a fair chance." they watched the lion silently until the latter finally turned and left, making its way stealthily over the carpet of twigs and rotting vines. then mr. holton suggested that they get back to camp. "that ought to be about the most interesting scene we've filmed," remarked joe the next morning, as with the others he prepared to leave. "no doubt you'll get others when we penetrate deeper into this forest," said his father. late the next afternoon noko cast uneasy glances up at the distant sky. there was a worried look on his face as he lead the safari farther into the unknown. "um big storm coming," he said with a frown. "a storm?" breathed bob. "do you think it will be here today?" noko nodded, his face grave. "um storm him not wait," the tall african said. "storm come much soon. sky it getting dark." indeed, the signs were most threatening. the distant horizon was colored a sickly yellow, which seemed to shine ominously. dark clouds were forming overhead and were joining slowly but surely. "it certainly looks bad," murmured mr. lewis. "we must find shelter somewhere. where do you suggest going, noko?" "we find um cave or um-um hollow," returned the head native. "that only way we get out from um storm." a weird silence hovered about. birds had ceased their calls; monkeys were no longer chattering in the trees. not the slightest suggestion of a wind played through the leaves. under the leadership of noko they searched about desperately for some place that would serve as a refuge from the approaching storm. but as time passed they were still moving through the forest as before. mr. lewis suggested that they erect their tents, but the tall african shook his head vigorously. a storm as bad as this one promised to be, said noko in the native language, would most certainly tear the frail tents loose almost at once. for, he reminded them, the new rainy season was not far off. with every passing minute the clouds banked tighter. an odd twilight enveloped the adventurers, making the task of escaping even more difficult. at one time bob and joe caught a glimpse of several monkeys huddled closely together under a gigantic leaf. the little creatures would under other circumstances have inspired a smile from the youths. "must hurry," urged noko, increasing his pace still more. "must find um cave um quick." then suddenly, with the fury of a battle, the tropical hurricane was upon them! chapter xxvi waiting in dread "above all, we must try to keep together," warned mr. holton, speaking to the natives as well as the whites. "it might spell tragedy if any of us should get lost from the rest." the rain was falling almost in torrents, soon drenching the adventurers thoroughly. wet and miserable, they were haggard-looking creatures as they stalked through the fastness of the forest. great flashes of uncanny lightning streaked across the sky. they were followed by ear-splitting bursts of thunder, which resembled nothing so much as the discharging of heavy cannon. wind--violent, ruthless wind--all but blew the explorers to the ground. their hearts beating rapidly, their breath coming in short gasps, they rushed as fast as possible in a wild search for some shelter from the elements. and all knew that they must find some place quickly; they could never withstand the full fury of the storm very long. as time passed, the sky grew still darker, until it was utterly impossible to make out what was ahead. it was only when a violent streak of eerie lightning would illuminate the sky that they could see each other. "this is terrible!" moaned joe, struggling to brace himself against the violent gale. the sound of his voice was drowned out, however, in the uproar of the elements. nor could anyone else have been heard. bob clutched his friend's arm and held on firmly. they would stick together through it all, he thought. suddenly the sky was lighted as brightly as day, and there followed a terrific clap of ear-splitting thunder. it seemed so near that the travelers jumped back instinctively. then they heard a great forest giant groan and creak and split at the base. it was very near them, and, not being able to see it, they feared that perhaps it would fall on them. "look out!" shouted mr. lewis, as lightning made the sky bright. "it's coming down on us!" obeying the command at once, all turned and ran for their lives. it was torture unthinkable, for in the twilight it was most difficult to avoid stumbling over vines or running into trees. still side by side, bob and joe followed their elders desperately, until they thought the danger was over. barely a few seconds later there was a terrific crash as the forest giant fell to the ground. it literally shook the earth, so violently did it strike. "a narrow escape!" breathed bob. "wouldn't have been much left of us if that had struck us." the youths were a little to one side of the safari and were falling behind. realizing this, they hurried to catch up. but just at that moment bob's foot caught in a creeper, and he sprawled to the ground before he could catch himself. when he fell he took joe with him, and together they rolled over on the wet carpet of leaves and twigs. "hurry!" urged joe, shouting to make himself heard. "the others are far ahead of us." he helped his friend to his feet and then started off toward where he thought the safari should be. but bob called him back. "i--i can't make it, i guess," bob said, wincing with pain. "sprained my ankle." joe bent over anxiously and felt of the injured foot. "isn't broken and doesn't seem to be dislocated," he said, straightening up. "can't you walk at all?" bob made a heroic attempt but could not move a single step. "no use," he said. "just have to wait a moment, i guess. maybe--" he stopped as a clap of thunder drowned out his voice--"it'll quit hurting before long." joe shouted at the top of his voice to his father and mr. holton, hoping that they would hear and stop. but it was useless. in that uproar sound would not travel any distance to speak of. he removed his revolver from its holster and pulled the trigger. but no report followed. in some manner water had found its way to the cartridges. still hoping that bob would soon be able to walk, he waited, listening to the pattering of the rain and the bursts of the thunder. if possible, the hurricane raged even more furiously than before. a little later bob announced that he was able to walk. with his friend he set off, slowly, of course, but surely. but by now the chums had lost all sense of direction. they had not the slightest notion of where they could find the safari. perhaps, for all they knew, it was moving in just an opposite direction. even when the surrounding forest was illuminated by streaks of lightning the boys could not see far because of the trees. "looks like they're gone," mourned bob. "what'll we do?" "nothing that i know of, only keep on going. it seems to me that they were traveling this way, but i'm not sure." blinded by the torrents of rain, bruised and cut by the countless pointed thorns and brambles, the young explorers moved along painfully, hoping against hope that they would meet up with their elders or some of the blacks. but luck was not with them that day. with every step they were unknowingly moving farther into the depths of the unknown forest, instead of following a set course. "looks like we're not going to find them," said joe, panting for breath. "but we won't stop now." all the remainder of the afternoon the hurricane continued as violently as before. then very slowly it began to subside, although the rain continued to fall. but at least the terrible gale was no longer blowing, and this was what had bothered the chums most. "but where are we?" asked joe, looking about as the darkness gave way to dim light. the region they were in was one of the wildest they had yet seen. gnarled, twisted trees grew in profusion; deep gulches broke the ground in a number of places; strange, odd plants, including huge ferns, were everywhere. once they caught sight of an unusually queer animal slinking through the underbrush. "maybe we're miles and miles from the safari," said bob in a voice of hopelessness. "i'm afraid of hostile natives," his chum put in. "it wouldn't be funny to be captured and carried off into some unknown village." the rain had stopped completely now, but darkness was beginning to close over them. the friends dreaded the coming of night in that wild country. alone and unable to build a fire, they would be at the mercy of savage jungle beasts. "suppose we stop here for the night," suggested joe. "i'm all in after fighting that hurricane." at a little elevation the youths sat down on a rotting tree trunk, glad of the chance to rest. they knew there was no use continuing the search for the safari, for the night was not far off. bob had a few matches in a waterproofed case, but he knew it would be useless to attempt to light a fire. "guess we'll have to stick it out without anything to eat tonight," he told his chum. "then maybe tomorrow we'll find our dads and the others." secretly the youths feared that for them tomorrow might not come. for they were alone in the great african jungle and would be easy prey for lions and other dangerous beasts. but both had their revolvers strapped to their sides, and, although not nearly as powerful as rifles, they might spell the difference between life and death. soon the short-lived twilight came, followed shortly by darkness. then the moon rose, and it was possible to see fairly well. "i'll take the first watch," remarked joe, an hour later. "you turn in and sleep for three hours or so. then you can stand guard." bob asked that he be given the first watch, but joe would not listen. grudgingly bob agreed to do as suggested and was soon fast asleep. as the night wore on, joe heard a distant yapping of jackals. he also could make out the howls of hyenas and other animals. then he heard another sound, and he sat up with a start. a low growl was issuing from behind a patch of jungle growth. it was repeated again and again, always louder and more defiant. joe grasped his revolver thankfully and remained silent. if the creature were dangerous, he could only hope that it would keep its distance. the prospects of killing a lion or leopard with the revolver, joe knew, were very slight. as the minutes passed, he was beginning to think that the animal had retreated, when he suddenly became aware of stealthily moving feet. they seemed to be padding slowly toward him. an awful fear seized joe. if some dangerous brute were stalking him, intent upon prey, it might well be his end. but, the youth thought, raising the revolver slowly, it wouldn't get him and bob without being at least wounded. the seconds went by slowly, painfully. then, horror-stricken, joe made out the huge body of a powerful leopard which was advancing toward him. chapter xxvii the white pigmy elephant joe's mind was in a whirl. he thought of jumping up and firing point-blank at the oncoming leopard, but then he suddenly remembered that he had not been able to discharge the revolver. perhaps the cartridges were still wet. if they were and would not fire, it would probably spell his finish. he thought, too, of waking bob, but he knew that this would cause a commotion, which might make the leopard charge without delay. no, joe thought, neither of these plans would work. suddenly his face brightened somewhat. a wild scheme was in his mind. would it work? as undisturbing as possible, the boy reached into his pocket and removed the little case of matches. protected by a tightly fitting cap, they were unaffected by the rain. his movement had been so cautious that apparently the leopard had not noticed. knowing that the heat of the atmosphere had dried out his shirt to a considerable degree, he resorted to a desperate measure. with a quick movement he tore the shirt from his shoulders, struck a match, and lighted the cloth. almost at once the tiny blaze of the match increased in size until it was quite large. when satisfied that the cloth was burning sufficiently, joe tied it to a twig and, with all the strength he could muster, threw it at the leopard. there was a howl of fear and pain, and then the sound of retreating footsteps. the beast had vanished into the blackness of the jungle. meanwhile, bob had jumped to his feet, having been aroused by the howl. he looked inquiringly at his friend. "anything wrong?" he queried, removing his revolver. "nothing now--i hope," joe returned, gazing off into the forest. "a leopard was stalking us. i think he's gone now." "really? is it gone? what did you do?" joe told of what had happened. when he had finished, his chum regarded him admiringly. "good for you, old boy," praised bob, patting his friend on the back. "i'd have never thought of doing anything like that. but now suppose i take up the watch for a while. i'll keep on the lookout for that leopard." but joe refused, saying that his watch was not yet over. "i'll call you later," he said, and bob again retired. toward the end of his guard joe heard a mysterious cry, similar to that he had heard several days before. it was most blood-curdling, sending chills down his spine. whether it was of animal or human origin the youth had no idea. bob too heard the unearthly sound later during his watch, and was as frightened as his chum had been. "the forest of mystery!" he breathed, looking about rather fearfully. "certainly seems mysterious. things could be happening right at this minute that nobody knows anything about." at the first streak of dawn bob awoke joe, although the latter was still very sleepy. "let me wait a little bit longer," pleaded the latter, rubbing his eyes. but bob stoutly refused. "we'll just have to get going again," he said. "have to find our dads and the others as soon as we can." joe knew that this was necessary, and so arose without saying anything further. the boys were obliged to begin the day without any breakfast, although both were ravenously hungry. they saw several small animals dart across their path, but decided to lose no time in shooting them. delay, they knew, might mean tragedy to them. they had not the slightest notion of which way to go in search of the safari, but they agreed to strike out to the west, as that was the direction previously taken. along toward noon bob called his chum over to a little clearing. "look at that strange track," he pointed out. "was that made by a wild animal?" "search me," joe said. "i never saw anything like it before. looks like the footprint of a person, only it's much larger, and there aren't any toe marks." the youths recalled the different animals they had come in contact with and read about. but none, they were sure, could make footprints anything like this. "i'm sure that couldn't have been a monkey--even a gorilla," said bob, "because there would be marks of its toes." "let's get out of here," murmured joe a bit fearfully. "who knows what kind of a creature that might have been?" they left the spot and plunged on through the forest. bob removed his revolver and fired two shots, hoping that they could be heard by the safari. he refrained from firing more because of the possibility of needing the bullets in an emergency. all morning they hiked on, paying little or no attention to the country they were passing through. they observed with interest, however, the results of the hurricane. tall trees were lying about, having been struck by lightning; numerous small dead animals could be seen. by noon their hunger had become almost unbearable. joe managed to shoot a large duck-like bird, which was at once roasted over a fire. to the two starved boys, the taste was delicious. they stopped only long enough to eat the meal, for every minute of delay was maddening to them. "we've just got to find our party today," said bob, gritting his teeth. "if we don't, they'll move so far away that we never will find them." joe nodded. "but then," he reminded his friend, "maybe they'll stick around this vicinity. they're probably looking for us, too, don't forget. we'll just----" he ceased abruptly and suddenly turned pale. the reason was not far to seek. a huge spear had whizzed past his head, missing it by only a very few inches! for some time neither of the youths spoke. they stared fearfully into the green depths of the forest whence the spear had been thrown. then, seeing no signs of natives, bob broke the silence. "what do you think?" he asked in a low voice, never taking his eyes from the jungle. joe waited a moment before replying. he had not yet recovered from the horror that had seized him. "i--i don't know what to think," he said tensely. "savages, cannibals, maybe." "but why don't they attack us?" asked bob, greatly puzzled. "more than i know." the youths remained where they were for several minutes, fearful to move on for fear of being struck from behind. but when after quite a while nothing more happened they concluded it was safe to go on. all through the afternoon they kept a close lookout for savages but saw none. nor did they see any traces of human habitation. with every step they became more mystified. who had thrown the spear? what was the object in throwing it? why had the chums not been attacked? "this doggone forest of mystery gets on my nerves," said joe, as late that afternoon they stopped beside a small spring. "oh, if we could only find our safari!" after replenishing their water bottles, which were strapped tightly over their shoulders, the young adventurers continued their frantic search. at a little open space they suddenly caught sight of something that made them gasp in wonder. moving awkwardly from behind a low hill was the strangest creature they had ever laid eyes on. it was an unusually small elephant--all white! chapter xxviii finding one lost "what do you know about that?" muttered joe lewis, staring at the animal. "a white pigmy elephant! wouldn't our dads be tickled if they could see it?" "that's an idea," said bob quickly. "why can't we shoot it for them?" joe laughed. "impossible," he said. "why, these revolver cartridges wouldn't even stop it, let alone kill it. not much chance of doing that. then too, we want to find our party." but bob persisted. "i tell you we can get that elephant some way," he went on. "as for finding the safari, well--i don't believe a few minutes' delay would make much difference. and i feel sure we'll find them before long. but right now let's get that elephant." "but how?" demanded the other. the animal was about twenty yards away and seemed not to notice the human invaders. and the wind was blowing away from it, so that it could not get their scent. as silently as they could the boys crept along through the tall grass, keeping their revolvers in readiness. bob led the way, confident that he could manage to get an effective shot. when within five yards of it, the young hunters stopped and waited. the little elephant had its back toward them, making it impossible to fire. then it turned and faced them, perhaps sensing danger. "now!" said bob, and together the youths fired, aiming at the eyes. without an outcry the elephant fell, writhed about for a second, and then was still. "yay!" cried bob. "killed it instantly. both of those bullets found their way to the brain. and," facing his chum, "you said it couldn't be done." "i'm sorry," grinned joe. "i guess there isn't anything we can't do, eh, bob?" the youths hardly knew what to do with the carcass. they could not take the time to skin it, and yet they knew hyenas and vultures would soon appear if it were left where it was. finally they decided to do a quick job of skinning it, although perhaps they could not perform the task as well as it should be done. using their hunting knives, they hastily ripped off the white hide, which they were finally able to move several yards from the carcass. then they gathered thorn bushes and surrounded it by an impenetrable _boma_. over the hide as well as around it they placed several thicknesses of thorns and brambles. "maybe that'll keep the vultures and hyenas away," said joe, as he turned to leave. "now, if we can just find the safari." for a half hour the boys trudged on, their hopes slowly becoming lessened. at frequent intervals they fired their revolvers, stopping shortly after to listen. on one occasion bob thought he heard a shout but was not sure. again he fired, and again he listened. sure enough, a faint cry was breaking the vast stillness. it was repeated again and again, and then came the sound of a rifle shot. "it's our party!" cried joe happily. "they've heard us." "come," said bob, setting off at a rapid pace. "let's hurry." five minutes later the chums broke through the foliage and faced none other than mr. lewis and mr. holton. "boys!" cried bob's father, his joy beyond words. "we've found you at last!" mr. lewis was equally affected. "we were afraid something happened to you," he said, patting them affectionately. "we didn't see how you could possibly go through this forest unharmed. especially with all the strange things here." "just what do you mean by that?" demanded bob, wondering if the naturalists had also seen or heard unexplainable phenomena. "what i said," returned mr. lewis, his face grave. "howard and i heard all kinds of mysterious noises from the depths of the forest. we haven't any idea what they were. and there's something else that we haven't been able to explain." "what was that?" inquired joe, thoroughly interested. "last night we saw a strange phosphorescence very near our camp," his father resumed. "it shone quite brilliantly, and we weren't able to tell what caused it. we played our flashlights on it, but could make out nothing. some trick of nature, i suppose." "you weren't the only ones to see mysterious things," said joe, and then told of the peculiar footprint and of the long spear that had so nearly ended his life. when he had finished, the naturalists looked grave. "you boys certainly had a thrilling experience," mr. holton said. "of course," he went on, "there's an explanation to everything that has happened. whether we'll be able to delve into it we have yet to see." "but there's something else that will interest you," put in bob. "joe and i shot a white pigmy elephant." "what? not fooling us, are you?" "come, and we'll show you," said bob, and led the way through the forest. when they finally reached the spot, they found the _boma_ just as they had built it. the carcass, however, had been torn to pieces by vultures and hyenas. the youths removed the thorn and bramble bushes from the enclosure and then turned to get the elephant skin. to their great surprise, it was gone! "of all things!" exclaimed bob, rubbing his forehead in perplexity. "that skin has disappeared as if by magic!" joe glanced at his chum, then at the _boma_. he looked around the other side, but the white skin was nowhere in sight. finally he straightened up, a look of supreme bewilderment on his face. "gone sure enough," he said. "are you certain you put it there?" inquired mr. holton. "certainly we did," bob assured him. "what i can't understand is why the _boma_ wasn't torn to pieces. if some wild animal----" "maybe it wasn't a wild animal," put in joe. "then--what could it have been?" "beyond me." joe had no suggestion of an idea. the two naturalists took up where their sons had left off and searched the vicinity of the _boma_. but they had to admit defeat. "another mystery to add to our already long list," commented mr. lewis. "it seems that there is no end to them." "perhaps," suggested mr. holton suddenly, "natives got that skin. they could have been watching the boys place it there. and they could have covered up the thorn enclosure just as it was." "possibly," came from mr. lewis. "but now let's get back to camp. we'll have some busy days before us." noko and the other natives gave bob and joe a royal welcome on seeing them alive and well. for none knew better than the blacks the dangers of a tropical hurricane. the two naturalists had already collected a large number of specimens. during the days that followed they added more, many of which were unknown. bob and joe did their share of collecting, bringing down not a few curious wild creatures. they also spent their time in taking motion pictures of the wild country about them. on one occasion they left camp on an all-day trip, taking two of the bearers with them. they hoped to photograph unusual scenes and perhaps solve some of the mysteries that so bewildered them. they were following a strictly compassed course, so as to take no chance of becoming lost from the others. their previous experience had taught them to have even more respect for the great african forest. when the sun was overhead, they sat in the shade of a great raffia palm, to escape the heat and partake of lunch. joe gazed off rather absently through the trees. suddenly his jaw dropped. "what's the matter?" asked bob in surprise. "what do you see?" "look away over there," joe pointed out. "see that high ant hill?" "why--yes. and look. there's a hut on top of it. who do you suppose lives there?" "let's go and see." together the young explorers trekked through the forest until they came to the ant hill. the latter was all of thirty feet in height, and built firmly on its summit was a small thatched hut. "boy, this is a mystery," murmured bob. "shall we go up and investigate?" "i'm willing." there was a crude ladder running up the side of the ant hill. up this the chums made their way. they feared at every moment that the ladder might collapse with their weight. "keep a hand on your revolver," warned bob. "there's no telling what may be in that hut. maybe some savage is asleep there, for all we know." when halfway to the top, they heard a shout from below. looking down they saw a man--a white man! chapter xxix angry natives "thomas seabury!" cried bob and joe almost in one breath, recognizing the man from a picture his brother had shown them in mombasa. they scrambled down the ladder in all haste, forgetting danger, forgetting everything. "my name!" the man exclaimed in a bewildered voice. "how, may i ask, did you young men get hold of it?" mr. seabury was rather a small man, with long gray hair and a heavy beard. his fine face bore the look of a scholar. "we've been hunting for you," joe told him. "your brother, back in mombasa, asked us to be on the lookout for you." "then--he is not here?" "no," returned bob. he did not think it wise to add that george seabury had been injured by a rhino. "he couldn't come with us, but we promised to be on watch for you." the man reeled as if to fall. then he got a grip on himself. "at last," he murmured, breathing heavily, "i have seen a white person." "were you lost?" inquired joe. "lost, yes. and worse than lost," returned mr. seabury grimly. "i was captured by hostile savages and was about to be sacrificed in their horrid rites. but i managed to slip off in the night and escape from their village. it was a horrible experience--wandering through this trackless forest. i had given myself up for lost when i happened to find this hut. who built it i do not know. but it had food stored away, and i ate it at once." "how long have you been here?" asked joe. "in this vicinity, i mean." "only two days," seabury replied. "though it seems more like two years. i held not the slightest hope of seeing any white person. in fact, i fully expected to die a slow death from hunger. but now," he continued in a lighter tone, "i am saved." "it was just luck that we found you," bob said. "my friend here---wait. pardon us for not introducing ourselves. this is joe lewis, and my name is holton--bob holton." thomas seabury extended a hand, which the youths clasped warmly. "as i was saying," resumed bob, "joe happened to see this ant hill. we came over to investigate." "i am only too thankful that you did," the man said. "but how did you happen to be here? what are you doing in africa?" "we're with our dads," joe told him. "came to collect specimens of wild animals and birds. and now, mr. seabury, suppose we go back to camp. that is, if you're ready." "i am more than ready," was the answer. "camp is a word that sounds better to me than 'most any i can think of." they found the two natives waiting. the latter displayed unusual surprise at seeing another white man in that vast jungle. mr. seabury fell to talking with them, telling them in their own language of his experience. back at camp, which they finally reached, mr. lewis and mr. holton met them. "but look who we've found," said joe happily. "thomas seabury." "well, what in the----" mr. lewis could hardly believe his eyes, while bob's father was no less surprised. joe introduced mr. seabury to the naturalists and then told of how he and his chum had found the missing man. "good for you, boys," praised mr. holton. "if you hadn't found him, perhaps he wouldn't have been found." "i wonder if i am dreaming," said mr. seabury. "if i am, i never want to wake up." the youths' fathers spent the remainder of the day in telling of their experiences since leaving mombasa and in listening to seabury's. but the next morning all were up early preparing for an extensive hunt for specimens. bob and joe with their cameras, and the scientists with their rifles, left camp and headed southward, with several of the bearers following. they had not gone far when they became aware of a deep drumming noise, which seemed to roll along the ground. "what's that?" asked bob, becoming worried. "savages?" mr. seabury, who was with them, nodded. "i have often heard the noise," he said, "and i believe it is made by natives. but they are probably a great distance off. i don't believe we are in any danger." all during the hunt the adventurers could hear the deep vibrating of drums, but as it seemed to get no nearer they thought no more about it. back at camp they saw a group of strange natives, their faces streaked with white paint, talking with noko and the bearers. at first the explorers hesitated to move on into camp for fear that trouble was at hand. but they finally concluded that it would be safe. "what's up, noko?" inquired mr. holton. the tall black seemed glad his masters had returned. "him want sell you um _kidogo_ [little] white elephant skin," noko said. "a white elephant skin?" demanded bob suddenly. "let's see it." the natives seemed to regard the youths in some surprise. but they soon did as asked, producing the white elephant skin. at sight of it bob and joe uttered startled exclamations. "why, that's the one we killed!" cried bob angrily. "see. there's where our bullets entered the head." "you're right, bob," said mr. lewis, after a moment of examining the skin. "ask them where they got it," said joe. the naturalists put the question before the natives in their own language. they replied that they had speared it several miles from there, and, having heard of the safari, went to see if they could sell it. "they're big liars!" stormed bob, when this had been translated. "that white elephant skin belongs to us. and," he added with determination, "we're going to have it without pay! "tell those savages to get out of here, noko," he said. "tell them that if they don't they'll wish they had." he removed his revolver from its holster and, as noko talked, flashed it before the savages. when noko had finished translating, the savages grew furiously angry. they advanced threateningly toward the explorers, paying no attention to bob's gun. chapter xxx an old mystery is cleared one big native made a grab for the white elephant skin. but his hand never reached it. with a powerful blow, bob sent the man crashing to the ground so hard that he was put in a daze. then, raising the revolver, the youth fired three shots into the air. they had the desired effect. the savages turned on their heels and dashed off, leaving their downed companion behind. before long he too had disappeared. "well, you certainly made quick work of them," laughed mr. seabury, who had been impressed by the rapidity of bob's action. "couldn't see them for the dust." "they were glad enough to get out of it," grinned joe. "old bob would have cleaned up on the whole bloomin' bunch." everyone had to laugh, now that the danger was over. even noko joined in. "um strong fella," he said, feeling bob's arms. "you make um leave ver' quick." the naturalists examined the elephant skin and were delighted with it. for they knew that it was one of the rarest of the rare. "here's hoping we shoot another pigmy white elephant," said joe, "and a lot more new specimen's besides." during the weeks that followed they did shoot another of the strange elephants, and in addition brought down a large number of other wild creatures. the latter were carefully skinned and labeled by the naturalists. bob and joe found themselves constantly occupied in working at some interesting task, such as photographing the mysterious forest. they exposed several thousand feet of motion-picture film. on one afternoon a heavy drizzle fell, making it impossible for the adventurers to go on with their work. and many of the days that followed were not without their thunderstorms. "now that the rainy season is at hand," remarked mr. lewis one morning as he sat in a tent, "i suggest that we start back to the coast. we've collected more than enough specimens, and the boys have taken scores of motion-picture scenes." the explorers attended to packing their belongings, assembling the specimens, oiling their firearms, and the like. it required nearly a week to complete preparations, but at last they were ready for the return journey. through the dark forest of mystery and then over the many plains and wooded tracts they hiked, at last coming to mbarara. from there they went by automobile to a terminal on the railroad, and then by train back to mombasa. in this city the youths and their fathers were induced to stop for a week at george seabury's house. that gentleman fairly hugged his brother at seeing him alive and well. he thanked the explorers, particularly bob and joe, again and again for finding him and bringing him back with them. the americans finally succeeded in obtaining passage on an american ship. bob and joe in particular found the return voyage very interesting, even though they had made it before. they were sitting on deck one morning in the midst of a row of passengers when a stranger leaned toward them. "beg pardon, fellows," he said, "but i wonder if you'd mind telling me where you got those rings you have." "rings?" asked bob. "oh, those. a chinaman back in san francisco gave them to us." "let me take a good look at them," said the stranger, whose name was walker. he examined the rings carefully for several minutes. "why?" asked joe. "is there anything wrong?" "wrong? absolutely not," walker said, straightening up with a nod. "you fellows are most fortunate in possessing such rare pieces of jewelry. those rings once belonged to an emperor of china." "what!" cried bob, while joe's eyes opened wide. "how do you know this?" "by the inscriptions that are on them," walker returned at once. "inscriptions?" bob looked baffled. "can you read those?" "most assuredly," was the answer. "i can speak and read seven languages. chinese is one of them." at once the youths were all excitement. "but," began bob, when the hubbub of chattering had subsided, "i thought china was a republic with a president. then how do you explain this emperor stuff?" "at one time china was an absolute monarchy, governed by rulers," walker told them. "the rings, unless they were faked--and i do not think they were--were once the property of one of the emperors." "then--that explains everything," murmured joe. "how is that?" inquired walker, very much interested. joe told him how much the rings were desired by numerous chinamen. "i shouldn't wonder that they are coveted, considering their worth," the man said when joe had finished. "chinese especially would prize them very highly." the chums sought out their fathers and told them the good news. "that puts a glorious climax to everything," said mr. holton. "with this ring mystery cleared up, you can feel much better." "but there were others that we weren't able to solve," remarked bob. "what do you mean?" inquired joe. "those in the forest of mystery," returned bob. the end bibliography _africa speaks_, by hoefler. the john c. winston co., chicago. _big game hunting and collecting in east africa_, by kitterberger. longmans, green & co., new york. _animal life in africa_, by stevenson-hamilton. e. p. dutton & co., new york. _african game trails_, by theodore roosevelt. charles scribner's sons, new york. _camera trails in africa_, by johnson. grosset & dunlap, new york. wood's _natural history_. a. l. burt co., new york. _africa view_, by huxley. harper & brothers, new york. _natural history animals_, by jennison. the macmillan company, new york. _the new natural history_, by thompson. g. p. putnam's sons, new york. * * * * * * transcriber's note: the four books in this series have been transcribed in the same manner. this means that in some books, table of contents and or/list of series names have been added. except in cases of obvious typographical errors, archaic and inconsistent spelling has been retained. the jungle book [illustration: rudyard kipling] [illustration: "little toomai laid himself down close to the great neck lest a swinging bough should sweep him to the ground." (see page 246.)] the jungle book by rudyard kipling [illustration] new york the century co. 1910 copyright 1893, 1894, by rudyard kipling copyright, 1894, by harper and brothers copyright 1893, 1894, by the century co. contents page mowgli's brothers 1 hunting-song of the seeonee pack 42 kaa's hunting 47 road-song of the bandar-log 89 "tiger! tiger!" 93 mowgli's song 131 the white seal 137 lukannon 170 "rikki-tikki-tavi" 175 darzee's chaunt 212 toomai of the elephants 217 shiv and the grasshopper 261 her majesty's servants 265 parade-song of the camp animals 300 list of illustrations page "little toomai laid himself down close to the great neck, lest a swinging bough should sweep him to the ground" frontispiece "'good luck go with you, o chief of the wolves'" 5 "the tiger's roar filled the cave with thunder" 11 the meeting at the council rock 17 "bagheera would lie out on a branch and call, 'come along, little brother'" 23 "'wake, little brother; i bring news'" 99 "'are all these tales such cobwebs and moon-talk?' said mowgli" 105 "buldeo lay as still, as still, expecting every minute to see mowgli turn into a tiger, too" 121 "when the moon rose over the plain the villagers saw mowgli trotting across, with two wolves at his heels" 126 "they clambered up on the council rock together, and mowgli spread the skin out on the flat stone" 129 "ten fathoms deep" 146 "they were all awake and staring in every direction but the right one" 154 "he had found sea cow at last" 162 "rikki-tikki looked down between the boy's collar and neck" 177 "he put his nose into the ink" 178 "rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow" 179 "he came to breakfast riding on teddy's shoulder" 180 "'we are very miserable,' said darzee" 181 "'i am nag,' said the cobra: 'look, and be afraid.' but at the bottom of his cold heart _he_ was afraid" 183 "he jumped up in the air, and just under him whizzed by the head of nagaina" 187 "in the dark he ran up against chuchundra, the muskrat" 192 "then rikki-tikki was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog" 197 darzee's wife pretends to have a broken wing 201 "nagaina flew down the path with rikki-tikki behind her" 207 "it is all over" 210 "kala nag was the best-loved elephant in the service" 219 "'he is afraid of me,' said little toomai, and he made kala nag lift up his feet one after the other" 223 "he would get his torch and wave it, and yell with the best" 229 "'not green corn, protector of the poor,--melons,' said little toomai" 235 "little toomai looked down upon scores and scores of broad backs" 251 "'to toomai of the elephants. barrao!'" 259 "a camel had blundered into my tent" 267 "'anybody can be forgiven for being scared in the night,' said the troop-horse" 275 "'the man was lying on the ground, and i stretched myself not to tread on him, and he slashed up at me'" 279 "then i heard an old, grizzled, long-haired central asian chief asking questions of a native officer" 297 the jungle book now rann, the kite, brings home the night that mang, the bat, sets free- the herds are shut in byre and hut, for loosed till dawn are we. this is the hour of pride and power, talon and tush and claw. oh, hear the call!--good hunting all that keep the jungle law! _night-song in the jungle._ [illustration] mowgli's brothers it was seven o'clock of a very warm evening in the seeonee hills when father wolf woke up from his day's rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in the tips. mother wolf lay with her big gray nose dropped across her four tumbling, squealing cubs, and the moon shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived. "augrh!" said father wolf, "it is time to hunt again"; and he was going to spring downhill when a little shadow with a bushy tail crossed the threshold and whined: "good luck go with you, o chief of the wolves; and good luck and strong white teeth go with the noble children, that they may never forget the hungry in this world." [illustration: "'good luck go with you, o chief of the wolves.'"] it was the jackal--tabaqui, the dish-licker--and the wolves of india despise tabaqui because he runs about making mischief, and telling tales, and eating rags and pieces of leather from the village rubbish-heaps. they are afraid of him too, because tabaqui, more than any one else in the jungle, is apt to go mad, and then he forgets that he was ever afraid of any one, and runs through the forest biting everything in his way. even the tiger hides when little tabaqui goes mad, for madness is the most disgraceful thing that can overtake a wild creature. we call it hydrophobia, but they call it _dewanee_--the madness--and run. "enter, then, and look," said father wolf, stiffly; "but there is no food here." "for a wolf, no," said tabaqui; "but for so mean a person as myself a dry bone is a good feast. who are we, the gidur-log [the jackal people], to pick and choose?" he scuttled to the back of the cave, where he found the bone of a buck with some meat on it, and sat cracking the end merrily. "all thanks for this good meal," he said, licking his lips. "how beautiful are the noble children! how large are their eyes! and so young too! indeed, indeed, i might have remembered that the children of kings are men from the beginning." now, tabaqui knew as well as any one else that there is nothing so unlucky as to compliment children to their faces; and it pleased him to see mother and father wolf look uncomfortable. tabaqui sat still, rejoicing in the mischief that he had made, and then he said spitefully: "shere khan, the big one, has shifted his hunting-grounds. he will hunt among these hills during the next moon, so he has told me." shere khan was the tiger who lived near the waingunga river, twenty miles away. "he has no right!" father wolf began angrily. "by the law of the jungle he has no right to change his quarters without fair warning. he will frighten every head of game within ten miles; and i--i have to kill for two, these days." "his mother did not call him lungri [the lame one] for nothing," said mother wolf, quietly. "he has been lame in one foot from his birth. that is why he has only killed cattle. now the villagers of the waingunga are angry with him, and he has come here to make _our_ villagers angry. they will scour the jungle for him when he is far away, and we and our children must run when the grass is set alight. indeed, we are very grateful to shere khan!" "shall i tell him of your gratitude?" said tabaqui. "out!" snapped father wolf. "out, and hunt with thy master. thou hast done harm enough for one night." "i go," said tabaqui, quietly. "ye can hear shere khan below in the thickets. i might have saved myself the message." father wolf listened, and in the dark valley that ran down to a little river, he heard the dry, angry, snarly, singsong whine of a tiger who has caught nothing and does not care if all the jungle knows it. "the fool!" said father wolf. "to begin a night's work with that noise! does he think that our buck are like his fat waingunga bullocks?" "h'sh! it is neither bullock nor buck that he hunts to-night," said mother wolf; "it is man." the whine had changed to a sort of humming purr that seemed to roll from every quarter of the compass. it was the noise that bewilders wood-cutters, and gipsies sleeping in the open, and makes them run sometimes into the very mouth of the tiger. "man!" said father wolf, showing all his white teeth. "faugh! are there not enough beetles and frogs in the tanks that he must eat man--and on our ground too!" the law of the jungle, which never orders anything without a reason, forbids every beast to eat man except when he is killing to show his children how to kill, and then he must hunt outside the hunting-grounds of his pack or tribe. the real reason for this is that man-killing means, sooner or later, the arrival of white men on elephants, with guns, and hundreds of brown men with gongs and rockets and torches. then everybody in the jungle suffers. the reason the beasts give among themselves is that man is the weakest and most defenseless of all living things, and it is unsportsmanlike to touch him. they say too--and it is true--that man-eaters become mangy, and lose their teeth. the purr grew louder, and ended in the full-throated "aaarh!" of the tiger's charge. then there was a howl--an untigerish howl--from shere khan. "he has missed," said mother wolf. "what is it?" father wolf ran out a few paces and heard shere khan muttering and mumbling savagely, as he tumbled about in the scrub. "the fool has had no more sense than to jump at a wood-cutters' camp-fire, so he has burned his feet," said father wolf, with a grunt. "tabaqui is with him." "something is coming uphill," said mother wolf, twitching one ear. "get ready." the bushes rustled a little in the thicket, and father wolf dropped with his haunches under him, ready for his leap. then, if you had been watching, you would have seen the most wonderful thing in the world--the wolf checked in mid-spring. he made his bound before he saw what it was he was jumping at, and then he tried to stop himself. the result was that he shot up straight into the air for four or five feet, landing almost where he left ground. "man!" he snapped. "a man's cub. look!" directly in front of him, holding on by a low branch, stood a naked brown baby who could just walk--as soft and as dimpled a little thing as ever came to a wolf's cave at night. he looked up into father wolf's face and laughed. "is that a man's cub?" said mother wolf. "i have never seen one. bring it here." a wolf accustomed to moving his own cubs can, if necessary, mouth an egg without breaking it, and though father wolf's jaws closed right on the child's back not a tooth even scratched the skin, as he laid it down among the cubs. "how little! how naked, and--how bold!" said mother wolf, softly. the baby was pushing his way between the cubs to get close to the warm hide. "ahai! he is taking his meal with the others. and so this is a man's cub. now, was there ever a wolf that could boast of a man's cub among her children?" "i have heard now and again of such a thing, but never in our pack or in my time," said father wolf. "he is altogether without hair, and i could kill him with a touch of my foot. but see, he looks up and is not afraid." the moonlight was blocked out of the mouth of the cave, for shere khan's great square head and shoulders were thrust into the entrance. tabaqui, behind him, was squeaking: "my lord, my lord, it went in here!" "shere khan does us great honor," said father wolf, but his eyes were very angry. "what does shere khan need?" "my quarry. a man's cub went this way," said shere khan. "its parents have run off. give it to me." shere khan had jumped at a wood-cutter's camp-fire, as father wolf had said, and was furious from the pain of his burned feet. but father wolf knew that the mouth of the cave was too narrow for a tiger to come in by. even where he was, shere khan's shoulders and fore paws were cramped for want of room, as a man's would be if he tried to fight in a barrel. "the wolves are a free people," said father wolf. "they take orders from the head of the pack, and not from any striped cattle-killer. the man's cub is ours--to kill if we choose." "ye choose and ye do not choose! what talk is this of choosing? by the bull that i killed, am i to stand nosing into your dog's den for my fair dues? it is i, shere khan, who speak!" the tiger's roar filled the cave with thunder. mother wolf shook herself clear of the cubs and sprang forward, her eyes, like two green moons in the darkness, facing the blazing eyes of shere khan. [illustration: "the tiger's roar filled the cave with thunder."] "and it is i, raksha [the demon], who answer. the man's cub is mine, lungri--mine to me! he shall not be killed. he shall live to run with the pack and to hunt with the pack; and in the end, look you, hunter of little naked cubs--frog-eater--fish-killer, he shall hunt _thee_! now get hence, or by the sambhur that i killed (_i_ eat no starved cattle), back thou goest to thy mother, burned beast of the jungle, lamer than ever thou camest into the world! go!" father wolf looked on amazed. he had almost forgotten the days when he won mother wolf in fair fight from five other wolves, when she ran in the pack and was not called the demon for compliment's sake. shere khan might have faced father wolf, but he could not stand up against mother wolf, for he knew that where he was she had all the advantage of the ground, and would fight to the death. so he backed out of the cave-mouth growling, and when he was clear he shouted: "each dog barks in his own yard! we will see what the pack will say to this fostering of man-cubs. the cub is mine, and to my teeth he will come in the end, o bush-tailed thieves!" mother wolf threw herself down panting among the cubs, and father wolf said to her gravely: "shere khan speaks this much truth. the cub must be shown to the pack. wilt thou still keep him, mother?" "keep him!" she gasped. "he came naked, by night, alone and very hungry; yet he was not afraid! look, he has pushed one of my babes to one side already. and that lame butcher would have killed him, and would have run off to the waingunga while the villagers here hunted through all our lairs in revenge! keep him? assuredly i will keep him. lie still, little frog. o thou mowgli,--for mowgli, the frog, i will call thee,--the time will come when thou wilt hunt shere khan as he has hunted thee!" "but what will our pack say?" said father wolf. the law of the jungle lays down very clearly that any wolf may, when he marries, withdraw from the pack he belongs to; but as soon as his cubs are old enough to stand on their feet he must bring them to the pack council, which is generally held once a month at full moon, in order that the other wolves may identify them. after that inspection the cubs are free to run where they please, and until they have killed their first buck no excuse is accepted if a grown wolf of the pack kills one of them. the punishment is death where the murderer can be found; and if you think for a minute you will see that this must be so. father wolf waited till his cubs could run a little, and then on the night of the pack meeting took them and mowgli and mother wolf to the council rock--a hilltop covered with stones and boulders where a hundred wolves could hide. akela, the great gray lone wolf, who led all the pack by strength and cunning, lay out at full length on his rock, and below him sat forty or more wolves of every size and color, from badger-colored veterans who could handle a buck alone, to young black three-year-olds who thought they could. the lone wolf had led them for a year now. he had fallen twice into a wolf-trap in his youth, and once he had been beaten and left for dead; so he knew the manners and customs of men. [illustration: the meeting at the council rock.] there was very little talking at the rock. the cubs tumbled over one another in the center of the circle where their mothers and fathers sat, and now and again a senior wolf would go quietly up to a cub, look at him carefully, and return to his place on noiseless feet. sometimes a mother would push her cub far out into the moonlight, to be sure that he had not been overlooked. akela from his rock would cry: "ye know the law--ye know the law! look well, o wolves!" and the anxious mothers would take up the call: "look--look well, o wolves!" at last--and mother wolf's neck-bristles lifted as the time came--father wolf pushed "mowgli, the frog," as they called him, into the center, where he sat laughing and playing with some pebbles that glistened in the moonlight. akela never raised his head from his paws, but went on with the monotonous cry, "look well!" a muffled roar came up from behind the rocks--the voice of shere khan crying, "the cub is mine; give him to me. what have the free people to do with a man's cub?" akela never even twitched his ears. all he said was, "look well, o wolves! what have the free people to do with the orders of any save the free people? look well!" there was a chorus of deep growls, and a young wolf in his fourth year flung back shere khan's question to akela: "what have the free people to do with a man's cub?" now the law of the jungle lays down that if there is any dispute as to the right of a cub to be accepted by the pack, he must be spoken for by at least two members of the pack who are not his father and mother. "who speaks for this cub?" said akela. "among the free people, who speaks?" there was no answer, and mother wolf got ready for what she knew would be her last fight, if things came to fighting. then the only other creature who is allowed at the pack council--baloo, the sleepy brown bear who teaches the wolf cubs the law of the jungle; old baloo, who can come and go where he pleases because he eats only nuts and roots and honey--rose up on his hind quarters and grunted. "the man's cub--the man's cub?" he said. "_i_ speak for the man's cub. there is no harm in a man's cub. i have no gift of words, but i speak the truth. let him run with the pack, and be entered with the others. i myself will teach him." "we need yet another," said akela. "baloo has spoken, and he is our teacher for the young cubs. who speaks besides baloo?" a black shadow dropped down into the circle. it was bagheera, the black panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk. everybody knew bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path; for he was as cunning as tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. but he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down. "o akela, and ye, the free people," he purred, "i have no right in your assembly; but the law of the jungle says that if there is a doubt which is not a killing matter in regard to a new cub, the life of that cub may be bought at a price. and the law does not say who may or may not pay that price. am i right?" "good! good!" said the young wolves, who are always hungry. "listen to bagheera. the cub can be bought for a price. it is the law." "knowing that i have no right to speak here, i ask your leave." "speak then," cried twenty voices. "to kill a naked cub is shame. besides, he may make better sport for you when he is grown. baloo has spoken in his behalf. now to baloo's word i will add one bull, and a fat one, newly killed, not half a mile from here, if ye will accept the man's cub according to the law. is it difficult?" there was a clamor of scores of voices, saying: "what matter? he will die in the winter rains. he will scorch in the sun. what harm can a naked frog do us? let him run with the pack. where is the bull, bagheera? let him be accepted." and then came akela's deep bay, crying: "look well--look well, o wolves!" mowgli was still playing with the pebbles, and he did not notice when the wolves came and looked at him one by one. at last they all went down the hill for the dead bull, and only akela, bagheera, baloo, and mowgli's own wolves were left. shere khan roared still in the night, for he was very angry that mowgli had not been handed over to him. "ay, roar well," said bagheera, under his whiskers; "for the time comes when this naked thing will make thee roar to another tune, or i know nothing of man." "it was well done," said akela. "men and their cubs are very wise. he may be a help in time." "truly, a help in time of need; for none can hope to lead the pack forever," said bagheera. akela said nothing. he was thinking of the time that comes to every leader of every pack when his strength goes from him and he gets feebler and feebler, till at last he is killed by the wolves and a new leader comes up--to be killed in his turn. "take him away," he said to father wolf, "and train him as befits one of the free people." and that is how mowgli was entered into the seeonee wolf-pack for the price of a bull and on baloo's good word. now you must be content to skip ten or eleven whole years, and only guess at all the wonderful life that mowgli led among the wolves, because if it were written out it would fill ever so many books. he grew up with the cubs, though they of course were grown wolves almost before he was a child, and father wolf taught him his business, and the meaning of things in the jungle, till every rustle in the grass, every breath of the warm night air, every note of the owls above his head, every scratch of a bat's claws as it roosted for a while in a tree, and every splash of every little fish jumping in a pool, meant just as much to him as the work of his office means to a business man. when he was not learning he sat out in the sun and slept, and ate, and went to sleep again; when he felt dirty or hot he swam in the forest pools; and when he wanted honey (baloo told him that honey and nuts were just as pleasant to eat as raw meat) he climbed up for it, and that bagheera showed him how to do. bagheera would lie out on a branch and call, "come along, little brother," and at first mowgli would cling like the sloth, but afterward he would fling himself through the branches almost as boldly as the gray ape. he took his place at the council rock, too, when the pack met, and there he discovered that if he stared hard at any wolf, the wolf would be forced to drop his eyes, and so he used to stare for fun. [illustration: "bagheera would lie out on a branch and call, 'come along, little brother.'"] at other times he would pick the long thorns out of the pads of his friends, for wolves suffer terribly from thorns and burs in their coats. he would go down the hillside into the cultivated lands by night, and look very curiously at the villagers in their huts, but he had a mistrust of men because bagheera showed him a square box with a drop-gate so cunningly hidden in the jungle that he nearly walked into it, and told him it was a trap. he loved better than anything else to go with bagheera into the dark warm heart of the forest, to sleep all through the drowsy day, and at night see how bagheera did his killing. bagheera killed right and left as he felt hungry, and so did mowgli--with one exception. as soon as he was old enough to understand things, bagheera told him that he must never touch cattle because he had been bought into the pack at the price of a bull's life. "all the jungle is thine," said bagheera, "and thou canst kill everything that thou art strong enough to kill; but for the sake of the bull that bought thee thou must never kill or eat any cattle young or old. that is the law of the jungle." mowgli obeyed faithfully. and he grew and grew strong as a boy must grow who does not know that he is learning any lessons, and who has nothing in the world to think of except things to eat. mother wolf told him once or twice that shere khan was not a creature to be trusted, and that some day he must kill shere khan; but though a young wolf would have remembered that advice every hour, mowgli forgot it because he was only a boy--though he would have called himself a wolf if he had been able to speak in any human tongue. shere khan was always crossing his path in the jungle, for as akela grew older and feebler the lame tiger had come to be great friends with the younger wolves of the pack, who followed him for scraps, a thing akela would never have allowed if he had dared to push his authority to the proper bounds. then shere khan would flatter them and wonder that such fine young hunters were content to be led by a dying wolf and a man's cub. "they tell me," shere khan would say, "that at council ye dare not look him between the eyes"; and the young wolves would growl and bristle. bagheera, who had eyes and ears everywhere, knew something of this, and once or twice he told mowgli in so many words that shere khan would kill him some day; and mowgli would laugh and answer: "i have the pack and i have thee; and baloo, though he is so lazy, might strike a blow or two for my sake. why should i be afraid?" it was one very warm day that a new notion came to bagheera--born of something that he had heard. perhaps ikki, the porcupine, had told him; but he said to mowgli when they were deep in the jungle, as the boy lay with his head on bagheera's beautiful black skin: "little brother, how often have i told thee that shere khan is thy enemy?" "as many times as there are nuts on that palm," said mowgli, who, naturally, could not count. "what of it? i am sleepy, bagheera, and shere khan is all long tail and loud talk, like mao, the peacock." "but this is no time for sleeping. baloo knows it, i know it, the pack know it, and even the foolish, foolish deer know. tabaqui has told thee too." "ho! ho!" said mowgli. "tabaqui came to me not long ago with some rude talk that i was a naked man's cub, and not fit to dig pig-nuts; but i caught tabaqui by the tail and swung him twice against a palm-tree to teach him better manners." "that was foolishness; for though tabaqui is a mischief-maker, he would have told thee of something that concerned thee closely. open those eyes, little brother! shere khan dares not kill thee in the jungle for fear of those that love thee; but remember, akela is very old, and soon the day comes when he cannot kill his buck, and then he will be leader no more. many of the wolves that looked thee over when thou wast brought to the council first are old too, and the young wolves believe, as shere khan has taught them, that a man-cub has no place with the pack. in a little time thou wilt be a man." "and what is a man that he should not run with his brothers?" said mowgli. "i was born in the jungle; i have obeyed the law of the jungle; and there is no wolf of ours from whose paws i have not pulled a thorn. surely they are my brothers!" bagheera stretched himself at full length and half shut his eyes. "little brother," said he, "feel under my jaw." mowgli put up his strong brown hand, and just under bagheera's silky chin, where the giant rolling muscles were all hid by the glossy hair, he came upon a little bald spot. "there is no one in the jungle that knows that i, bagheera, carry that mark--the mark of the collar; and yet, little brother, i was born among men, and it was among men that my mother died--in the cages of the king's palace at oodeypore. it was because of this that i paid the price for thee at the council when thou wast a little naked cub. yes, i too was born among men. i had never seen the jungle. they fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night i felt that i was bagheera, the panther, and no man's plaything, and i broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw, and came away; and because i had learned the ways of men, i became more terrible in the jungle than shere khan. is it not so?" "yes," said mowgli; "all the jungle fear bagheera--all except mowgli." "oh, _thou_ art a man's cub," said the black panther, very tenderly; "and even as i returned to my jungle, so thou must go back to men at last,--to the men who are thy brothers,--if thou art not killed in the council." "but why--but why should any wish to kill me?" said mowgli. "look at me," said bagheera; and mowgli looked at him steadily between the eyes. the big panther turned his head away in half a minute. "_that_ is why," he said, shifting his paw on the leaves. "not even i can look thee between the eyes, and i was born among men, and i love thee, little brother. the others they hate thee because their eyes cannot meet thine; because thou art wise; because thou hast pulled out thorns from their feet--because thou art a man." "i did not know these things," said mowgli, sullenly; and he frowned under his heavy black eyebrows. "what is the law of the jungle? strike first and then give tongue. by thy very carelessness they know that thou art a man. but be wise. it is in my heart that when akela misses his next kill,--and at each hunt it costs him more to pin the buck,--the pack will turn against him and against thee. they will hold a jungle council at the rock, and then--and then ... i have it!" said bagheera, leaping up. "go thou down quickly to the men's huts in the valley, and take some of the red flower which they grow there, so that when the time comes thou mayest have even a stronger friend than i or baloo or those of the pack that love thee. get the red flower." by red flower bagheera meant fire, only no creature in the jungle will call fire by its proper name. every beast lives in deadly fear of it, and invents a hundred ways of describing it. "the red flower?" said mowgli. "that grows outside their huts in the twilight. i will get some." "there speaks the man's cub," said bagheera, proudly. "remember that it grows in little pots. get one swiftly, and keep it by thee for time of need." "good!" said mowgli. "i go. but art thou sure, o my bagheera"--he slipped his arm round the splendid neck, and looked deep into the big eyes--"art thou sure that all this is shere khan's doing?" "by the broken lock that freed me, i am sure, little brother." "then, by the bull that bought me, i will pay shere khan full tale for this, and it may be a little over," said mowgli; and he bounded away. "that is a man. that is all a man," said bagheera to himself, lying down again. "oh, shere khan, never was a blacker hunting than that frog-hunt of thine ten years ago!" mowgli was far and far through the forest, running hard, and his heart was hot in him. he came to the cave as the evening mist rose, and drew breath, and looked down the valley. the cubs were out, but mother wolf, at the back of the cave, knew by his breathing that something was troubling her frog. "what is it, son?" she said. "some bat's chatter of shere khan," he called back. "i hunt among the plowed fields to-night"; and he plunged downward through the bushes, to the stream at the bottom of the valley. there he checked, for he heard the yell of the pack hunting, heard the bellow of a hunted sambhur, and the snort as the buck turned at bay. then there were wicked, bitter howls from the young wolves: "akela! akela! let the lone wolf show his strength. room for the leader of our pack! spring, akela!" the lone wolf must have sprung and missed his hold, for mowgli heard the snap of his teeth and then a yelp as the sambhur knocked him over with his fore foot. he did not wait for anything more, but dashed on; and the yells grew fainter behind him as he ran into the crop-lands where the villagers lived. "bagheera spoke truth," he panted, as he nestled down in some cattle-fodder by the window of a hut. "to-morrow is one day for akela and for me." then he pressed his face close to the window and watched the fire on the hearth. he saw the husbandman's wife get up and feed it in the night with black lumps; and when the morning came and the mists were all white and cold, he saw the man's child pick up a wicker pot plastered inside with earth, fill it with lumps of red-hot charcoal, put it under his blanket, and go out to tend the cows in the byre. "is that all?" said mowgli. "if a cub can do it, there is nothing to fear"; so he strode around the corner and met the boy, took the pot from his hand, and disappeared into the mist while the boy howled with fear. "they are very like me," said mowgli, blowing into the pot, as he had seen the woman do. "this thing will die if i do not give it things to eat"; and he dropped twigs and dried bark on the red stuff. half-way up the hill he met bagheera with the morning dew shining like moonstones on his coat. "akela has missed," said the panther. "they would have killed him last night, but they needed thee also. they were looking for thee on the hill." "i was among the plowed lands. i am ready. look!" mowgli held up the fire-pot. "good! now, i have seen men thrust a dry branch into that stuff, and presently the red flower blossomed at the end of it. art thou not afraid?" "no. why should i fear? i remember now--if it is not a dream--how, before i was a wolf, i lay beside the red flower, and it was warm and pleasant." all that day mowgli sat in the cave tending his fire-pot and dipping dry branches into it to see how they looked. he found a branch that satisfied him, and in the evening when tabaqui came to the cave and told him, rudely enough, that he was wanted at the council rock, he laughed till tabaqui ran away. then mowgli went to the council, still laughing. akela the lone wolf lay by the side of his rock as a sign that the leadership of the pack was open, and shere khan with his following of scrap-fed wolves walked to and fro openly, being flattered. bagheera lay close to mowgli, and the fire-pot was between mowgli's knees. when they were all gathered together, shere khan began to speak--a thing he would never have dared to do when akela was in his prime. "he has no right," whispered bagheera. "say so. he is a dog's son. he will be frightened." mowgli sprang to his feet. "free people," he cried, "does shere khan lead the pack? what has a tiger to do with our leadership?" "seeing that the leadership is yet open, and being asked to speak--" shere khan began. "by whom?" said mowgli. "are we _all_ jackals, to fawn on this cattle-butcher? the leadership of the pack is with the pack alone." there were yells of "silence, thou man's cub!" "let him speak; he has kept our law!" and at last the seniors of the pack thundered: "let the dead wolf speak!" when a leader of the pack has missed his kill, he is called the dead wolf as long as he lives, which is not long, as a rule. akela raised his old head wearily: "free people, and ye too, jackals of shere khan, for twelve seasons i have led ye to and from the kill, and in all that time not one has been trapped or maimed. now i have missed my kill. ye know how that plot was made. ye know how ye brought me up to an untried buck to make my weakness known. it was cleverly done. your right is to kill me here on the council rock now. therefore i ask, 'who comes to make an end of the lone wolf?' for it is my right, by the law of the jungle, that ye come one by one." there was a long hush, for no single wolf cared to fight akela to the death. then shere khan roared: "bah! what have we to do with this toothless fool? he is doomed to die! it is the man-cub who has lived too long. free people, he was my meat from the first. give him to me. i am weary of this man-wolf folly. he has troubled the jungle for ten seasons. give me the man-cub, or i will hunt here always, and not give you one bone! he is a man--a man's child, and from the marrow of my bones i hate him!" then more than half the pack yelled: "a man--a man! what has a man to do with us? let him go to his own place." "and turn all the people of the villages against us?" snarled shere khan. "no; give him to me. he is a man, and none of us can look him between the eyes." akela lifted his head again, and said: "he has eaten our food; he has slept with us; he has driven game for us; he has broken no word of the law of the jungle." "also, i paid for him with a bull when he was accepted. the worth of a bull is little, but bagheera's honor is something that he will perhaps fight for," said bagheera in his gentlest voice. "a bull paid ten years ago!" the pack snarled. "what do we care for bones ten years old?" "or for a pledge?" said bagheera, his white teeth bared under his lip. "well are ye called the free people!" "no man's cub can run with the people of the jungle!" roared shere khan. "give him to me." "he is our brother in all but blood," akela went on; "and ye would kill him here. in truth, i have lived too long. some of ye are eaters of cattle, and of others i have heard that, under shere khan's teaching, ye go by dark night and snatch children from the villager's doorstep. therefore i know ye to be cowards, and it is to cowards i speak. it is certain that i must die, and my life is of no worth, or i would offer that in the man-cub's place. but for the sake of the honor of the pack,--a little matter that, by being without a leader, ye have forgotten,--i promise that if ye let the man-cub go to his own place, i will not, when my time comes to die, bare one tooth against ye. i will die without fighting. that will at least save the pack three lives. more i cannot do; but, if ye will, i can save ye the shame that comes of killing a brother against whom there is no fault--a brother spoken for and bought into the pack according to the law of the jungle." "he is a man--a man--a man!" snarled the pack; and most of the wolves began to gather round shere khan, whose tail was beginning to switch. "now the business is in thy hands," said bagheera to mowgli. "_we_ can do no more except fight." mowgli stood upright--the fire-pot in his hands. then he stretched out his arms, and yawned in the face of the council; but he was furious with rage and sorrow, for, wolf-like, the wolves had never told him how they hated him. "listen, you!" he cried. "there is no need for this dog's jabber. ye have told me so often to-night that i am a man (though indeed i would have been a wolf with you to my life's end) that i feel your words are true. so i do not call ye my brothers any more, but _sag_ [dogs], as a man should. what ye will do, and what ye will not do, is not yours to say. that matter is with _me_; and that we may see the matter more plainly, i, the man, have brought here a little of the red flower which ye, dogs, fear." he flung the fire-pot on the ground, and some of the red coals lit a tuft of dried moss that flared up as all the council drew back in terror before the leaping flames. mowgli thrust his dead branch into the fire till the twigs lit and crackled, and whirled it above his head among the cowering wolves. "thou art the master," said bagheera, in an undertone. "save akela from the death. he was ever thy friend." akela, the grim old wolf who had never asked for mercy in his life, gave one piteous look at mowgli as the boy stood all naked, his long black hair tossing over his shoulders in the light of the blazing branch that made the shadows jump and quiver. "good!" said mowgli, staring around slowly, and thrusting out his lower lip. "i see that ye are dogs. i go from you to my own people--if they be my own people. the jungle is shut to me, and i must forget your talk and your companionship; but i will be more merciful than ye are. because i was all but your brother in blood, i promise that when i am a man among men i will not betray ye to men as ye have betrayed me." he kicked the fire with his foot, and the sparks flew up. "there shall be no war between any of us and the pack. but here is a debt to pay before i go." he strode forward to where shere khan sat blinking stupidly at the flames, and caught him by the tuft on his chin. bagheera followed close, in case of accidents. "up, dog!" mowgli cried. "up, when a man speaks, or i will set that coat ablaze!" shere khan's ears lay flat back on his head, and he shut his eyes, for the blazing branch was very near. "this cattle-killer said he would kill me in the council because he had not killed me when i was a cub. thus and thus, then, do we beat dogs when we are men! stir a whisker, lungri, and i ram the red flower down thy gullet!" he beat shere khan over the head with the branch, and the tiger whimpered and whined in an agony of fear. "pah! singed jungle-cat--go now! but remember when next i come to the council rock, as a man should come, it will be with shere khan's hide on my head. for the rest, akela goes free to live as he pleases. ye will _not_ kill him, because that is not my will. nor do i think that ye will sit here any longer, lolling out your tongues as though ye were somebodies, instead of dogs whom i drive out--thus! go!" the fire was burning furiously at the end of the branch, and mowgli struck right and left round the circle, and the wolves ran howling with the sparks burning their fur. at last there were only akela, bagheera, and perhaps ten wolves that had taken mowgli's part. then something began to hurt mowgli inside him, as he had never been hurt in his life before, and he caught his breath and sobbed, and the tears ran down his face. "what is it? what is it?" he said. "i do not wish to leave the jungle, and i do not know what this is. am i dying, bagheera?" "no, little brother. those are only tears such as men use," said bagheera. "now i know thou art a man, and a man's cub no longer. the jungle is shut indeed to thee henceforward. let them fall, mowgli; they are only tears." so mowgli sat and cried as though his heart would break; and he had never cried in all his life before. "now," he said, "i will go to men. but first i must say farewell to my mother"; and he went to the cave where she lived with father wolf, and he cried on her coat, while the four cubs howled miserably. "ye will not forget me?" said mowgli. "never while we can follow a trail," said the cubs. "come to the foot of the hill when thou art a man, and we will talk to thee; and we will come into the crop-lands to play with thee by night." "come soon!" said father wolf. "oh, wise little frog, come again soon; for we be old, thy mother and i." "come soon," said mother wolf, "little naked son of mine; for, listen, child of man, i loved thee more than ever i loved my cubs." "i will surely come," said mowgli; "and when i come it will be to lay out shere khan's hide upon the council rock. do not forget me! tell them in the jungle never to forget me!" the dawn was beginning to break when mowgli went down the hillside alone to the crops to meet those mysterious things that are called men. hunting-song of the seeonee pack as the dawn was breaking the sambhur belled once, twice, and again! and a doe leaped up--and a doe leaped up from the pond in the wood where the wild deer sup. this i, scouting alone, beheld, once, twice, and again! as the dawn was breaking the sambhur belled once, twice, and again! and a wolf stole back--and a wolf stole back to carry the word to the waiting pack; and we sought and we found and we bayed on his track once, twice, and again! as the dawn was breaking the wolf-pack yelled once, twice, and again! feet in the jungle that leave no mark! eyes that can see in the dark--the dark! tongue--give tongue to it! hark! o hark! once, twice, and again! kaa's hunting his spots are the joy of the leopard: his horns are the buffalo's pride- be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide. if ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed sambhur can gore; ye need not stop work to inform us: we knew it ten seasons before. oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as sister and brother, for though they are little and fubsy, it may be the bear is their mother. "there is none like to me!" says the cub in the pride of his earliest kill; but the jungle is large and the cub he is small. let him think and be still. _maxims of baloo._ [illustration] kaa's hunting all that is told here happened some time before mowgli was turned out of the seeonee wolf-pack. it was in the days when baloo was teaching him the law of the jungle. the big, serious, old brown bear was delighted to have so quick a pupil, for the young wolves will only learn as much of the law of the jungle as applies to their own pack and tribe, and run away as soon as they can repeat the hunting verse: "feet that make no noise; eyes that can see in the dark; ears that can hear the winds in their lairs, and sharp white teeth--all these things are the marks of our brothers except tabaqui and the hyena, whom we hate." but mowgli, as a man-cub, had to learn a great deal more than this. sometimes bagheera, the black panther, would come lounging through the jungle to see how his pet was getting on, and would purr with his head against a tree while mowgli recited the day's lesson to baloo. the boy could climb almost as well as he could swim, and swim almost as well as he could run; so baloo, the teacher of the law, taught him the wood and water laws: how to tell a rotten branch from a sound one; how to speak politely to the wild bees when he came upon a hive of them fifty feet aboveground; what to say to mang, the bat, when he disturbed him in the branches at midday; and how to warn the water-snakes in the pools before he splashed down among them. none of the jungle people like being disturbed, and all are very ready to fly at an intruder. then, too, mowgli was taught the strangers' hunting call, which must be repeated aloud till it is answered, whenever one of the jungle people hunts outside his own grounds. it means, translated: "give me leave to hunt here because i am hungry"; and the answer is: "hunt, then, for food, but not for pleasure." all this will show you how much mowgli had to learn by heart, and he grew very tired of repeating the same thing a hundred times; but, as baloo said to bagheera one day when mowgli had been cuffed and had run off in a temper: "a man's cub is a man's cub, and he must learn _all_ the law of the jungle." "but think how small he is," said the black panther, who would have spoiled mowgli if he had had his own way. "how can his little head carry all thy long talk?" "is there anything in the jungle too little to be killed? no. that is why i teach him these things, and that is why i hit him, very softly, when he forgets." "softly! what dost thou know of softness, old iron-feet?" bagheera grunted. "his face is all bruised to-day by thy--softness. ugh!" "better he should be bruised from head to foot by me who love him than that he should come to harm through ignorance," baloo answered, very earnestly. "i am now teaching him the master words of the jungle that shall protect him with the birds and the snake people, and all that hunt on four feet, except his own pack. he can now claim protection, if he will only remember the words, from all in the jungle. is not that worth a little beating?" "well, look to it then that thou dost not kill the man-cub. he is no tree-trunk to sharpen thy blunt claws upon. but what are those master words? i am more likely to give help than to ask it"--bagheera stretched out one paw and admired the steel-blue ripping-chisel talons at the end of it--"still i should like to know." "i will call mowgli and he shall say them--if he will. come, little brother!" "my head is ringing like a bee-tree," said a sullen voice over their heads, and mowgli slid down a tree-trunk, very angry and indignant, adding, as he reached the ground: "i come for bagheera and not for _thee_, fat old baloo!" "that is all one to me," said baloo, though he was hurt and grieved. "tell bagheera, then, the master words of the jungle that i have taught thee this day." "master words for which people?" said mowgli, delighted to show off. "the jungle has many tongues. _i_ know them all." "a little thou knowest, but not much. see, o bagheera, they never thank their teacher! not one small wolfling has come back to thank old baloo for his teachings. say the word for the hunting people, then,--great scholar!" "we be of one blood, ye and i," said mowgli, giving the words the bear accent which all the hunting people of the jungle use. "good! now for the birds." mowgli repeated, with the kite's whistle at the end of the sentence. "now for the snake people," said bagheera. the answer was a perfectly indescribable hiss, and mowgli kicked up his feet behind, clapped his hands together to applaud himself, and jumped on bagheera's back, where he sat sideways, drumming with his heels on the glossy skin and making the worst faces that he could think of at baloo. "there--there! that was worth a little bruise," said the brown bear, tenderly. "some day thou wilt remember me." then he turned aside to tell bagheera how he had begged the master words from hathi, the wild elephant, who knows all about these things, and how hathi had taken mowgli down to a pool to get the snake word from a water-snake, because baloo could not pronounce it, and how mowgli was now reasonably safe against all accidents in the jungle, because neither snake, bird, nor beast would hurt him. "no one then is to be feared," baloo wound up, patting his big furry stomach with pride. "except his own tribe," said bagheera, under his breath; and then aloud to mowgli: "have a care for my ribs, little brother! what is all this dancing up and down?" mowgli had been trying to make himself heard by pulling at bagheera's shoulder-fur and kicking hard. when the two listened to him he was shouting at the top of his voice: "and _so_ i shall have a tribe of my own, and lead them through the branches all day long." "what is this new folly, little dreamer of dreams?" said bagheera. "yes, and throw branches and dirt at old baloo," mowgli went on. "they have promised me this, ah!" "whoof!" baloo's big paw scooped mowgli off bagheera's back, and as the boy lay between the big fore paws he could see the bear was angry. "mowgli," said baloo, "thou hast been talking with the bandar-log--the monkey people." mowgli looked at bagheera to see if the panther was angry too, and bagheera's eyes were as hard as jade-stones. "thou hast been with the monkey people--the gray apes--the people without a law--the eaters of everything. that is great shame." "when baloo hurt my head," said mowgli (he was still down on his back), "i went away, and the gray apes came down from the trees and had pity on me. no one else cared." he snuffled a little. "the pity of the monkey people!" baloo snorted. "the stillness of the mountain stream! the cool of the summer sun! and then, man-cub?" "and then--and then they gave me nuts and pleasant things to eat, and they--they carried me in their arms up to the top of the trees and said i was their blood-brother, except that i had no tail, and should be their leader some day." "they have _no_ leader," said bagheera. "they lie. they have always lied." "they were very kind, and bade me come again. why have i never been taken among the monkey people? they stand on their feet as i do. they do not hit me with hard paws. they play all day. let me get up! bad baloo, let me up! i will go play with them again." "listen, man-cub," said the bear, and his voice rumbled like thunder on a hot night. "i have taught thee all the law of the jungle for all the peoples of the jungle--except the monkey folk who live in the trees. they have no law. they are outcastes. they have no speech of their own, but use the stolen words which they overhear when they listen and peep and wait up above in the branches. their way is not our way. they are without leaders. they have no remembrance. they boast and chatter and pretend that they are a great people about to do great affairs in the jungle, but the falling of a nut turns their minds to laughter, and all is forgotten. we of the jungle have no dealings with them. we do not drink where the monkeys drink; we do not go where the monkeys go; we do not hunt where they hunt; we do not die where they die. hast thou ever heard me speak of the bandar-log till to-day?" "no," said mowgli in a whisper, for the forest was very still now that baloo had finished. "the jungle people put them out of their mouths and out of their minds. they are very many, evil, dirty, shameless, and they desire, if they have any fixed desire, to be noticed by the jungle people. but we do _not_ notice them even when they throw nuts and filth on our heads." he had hardly spoken when a shower of nuts and twigs spattered down through the branches; and they could hear coughings and howlings and angry jumpings high up in the air among the thin branches. "the monkey people are forbidden," said baloo, "forbidden to the jungle people. remember." "forbidden," said bagheera; "but i still think baloo should have warned thee against them." "i--i? how was i to guess he would play with such dirt. the monkey people! faugh!" a fresh shower came down on their heads, and the two trotted away, taking mowgli with them. what baloo had said about the monkeys was perfectly true. they belonged to the tree-tops, and as beasts very seldom look up, there was no occasion for the monkeys and the jungle people to cross one another's path. but whenever they found a sick wolf, or a wounded tiger or bear, the monkeys would torment him, and would throw sticks and nuts at any beast for fun and in the hope of being noticed. then they would howl and shriek senseless songs, and invite the jungle people to climb up their trees and fight them, or would start furious battles over nothing among themselves, and leave the dead monkeys where the jungle people could see them. they were always just going to have a leader and laws and customs of their own, but they never did, because their memories would not hold over from day to day, and so they settled things by making up a saying: "what the bandar-log think now the jungle will think later"; and that comforted them a great deal. none of the beasts could reach them, but on the other hand none of the beasts would notice them, and that was why they were so pleased when mowgli came to play with them, and when they heard how angry baloo was. they never meant to do any more,--the bandar-log never mean anything at all,--but one of them invented what seemed to him a brilliant idea, and he told all the others that mowgli would be a useful person to keep in the tribe, because he could weave sticks together for protection from the wind; so, if they caught him, they could make him teach them. of course mowgli, as a wood-cutter's child, inherited all sorts of instincts, and used to make little play-huts of fallen branches without thinking how he came to do it. the monkey people, watching in the trees, considered these huts most wonderful. this time, they said, they were really going to have a leader and become the wisest people in the jungle--so wise that every one else would notice and envy them. therefore they followed baloo and bagheera and mowgli through the jungle very quietly till it was time for the midday nap, and mowgli, who was very much ashamed of himself, slept between the panther and the bear, resolving to have no more to do with the monkey people. the next thing he remembered was feeling hands on his legs and arms,--hard, strong little hands,--and then a swash of branches in his face; and then he was staring down through the swaying boughs as baloo woke the jungle with his deep cries and bagheera bounded up the trunk with every tooth bared. the bandar-log howled with triumph, and scuffled away to the upper branches where bagheera dared not follow, shouting: "he has noticed us! bagheera has noticed us! all the jungle people admire us for our skill and our cunning!" then they began their flight; and the flight of the monkey people through tree-land is one of the things nobody can describe. they have their regular roads and cross-roads, uphills and downhills, all laid out from fifty to seventy or a hundred feet aboveground, and by these they can travel even at night if necessary. two of the strongest monkeys caught mowgli under the arms and swung off with him through the tree-tops, twenty feet at a bound. had they been alone they could have gone twice as fast, but the boy's weight held them back. sick and giddy as mowgli was he could not help enjoying the wild rush, though the glimpses of earth far down below frightened him, and the terrible check and jerk at the end of the swing over nothing but empty air brought his heart between his teeth. his escort would rush him up a tree till he felt the weak topmost branches crackle and bend under them, and, then, with a cough and a whoop, would fling themselves into the air outward and downward, and bring up hanging by their hands or their feet to the lower limbs of the next tree. sometimes he could see for miles and miles over the still green jungle, as a man on the top of a mast can see for miles across the sea, and then the branches and leaves would lash him across the face, and he and his two guards would be almost down to earth again. so bounding and crashing and whooping and yelling, the whole tribe of bandar-log swept along the tree-roads with mowgli their prisoner. for a time he was afraid of being dropped; then he grew angry, but he knew better than to struggle; and then he began to think. the first thing was to send back word to baloo and bagheera, for, at the pace the monkeys were going, he knew his friends would be left far behind. it was useless to look down, for he could see only the top sides of the branches, so he stared upward and saw, far away in the blue, rann, the kite, balancing and wheeling as he kept watch over the jungle waiting for things to die. rann noticed that the monkeys were carrying something, and dropped a few hundred yards to find out whether their load was good to eat. he whistled with surprise when he saw mowgli being dragged up to a tree-top, and heard him give the kite call for "we be of one blood, thou and i." the waves of the branches closed over the boy, but rann balanced away to the next tree in time to see the little brown face come up again. "mark my trail!" mowgli shouted. "tell baloo of the seeonee pack, and bagheera of the council rock." "in whose name, brother?" rann had never seen mowgli before, though of course he had heard of him. "mowgli, the frog. man-cub they call me! mark my tra--il!" the last words were shrieked as he was being swung through the air, but rann nodded, and rose up till he looked no bigger than a speck of dust, and there he hung, watching with his telescope eyes the swaying of the tree-tops as mowgli's escort whirled along. "they never go far," he said, with a chuckle. "they never do what they set out to do. always pecking at new things are the bandar-log. this time, if i have any eyesight, they have pecked down trouble for themselves, for baloo is no fledgling and bagheera can, as i know, kill more than goats." then he rocked on his wings, his feet gathered up under him, and waited. meanwhile, baloo and bagheera were furious with rage and grief. bagheera climbed as he had never climbed before, but the branches broke beneath his weight, and he slipped down, his claws full of bark. "why didst thou not warn the man-cub!" he roared to poor baloo, who had set off at a clumsy trot in the hope of overtaking the monkeys. "what was the use of half slaying him with blows if thou didst not warn him?" "haste! o haste! we--we may catch them yet!" baloo panted. "at that speed! it would not tire a wounded cow. teacher of the law, cub-beater--a mile of that rolling to and fro would burst thee open. sit still and think! make a plan. this is no time for chasing. they may drop him if we follow too close." "_arrula! whoo!_ they may have dropped him already, being tired of carrying him. who can trust the bandar-log? put dead bats on my head! give me black bones to eat! roll me into the hives of the wild bees that i may be stung to death, and bury me with the hyena; for i am the most miserable of bears! _arulala! wahooa!_ o mowgli, mowgli! why did i not warn thee against the monkey folk instead of breaking thy head? now perhaps i may have knocked the day's lesson out of his mind, and he will be alone in the jungle without the master words!" baloo clasped his paws over his ears and rolled to and fro, moaning. "at least he gave me all the words correctly a little time ago," said bagheera, impatiently. "baloo, thou hast neither memory nor respect. what would the jungle think if i, the black panther, curled myself up like ikki, the porcupine, and howled?" "what do i care what the jungle thinks? he may be dead by now." "unless and until they drop him from the branches in sport, or kill him out of idleness, i have no fear for the man-cub. he is wise and well-taught, and, above all, he has the eyes that make the jungle people afraid. but (and it is a great evil) he is in the power of the bandar-log, and they, because they live in trees, have no fear of any of our people." bagheera licked his one fore paw thoughtfully. "fool that i am! oh fat, brown, root-digging fool that i am!" said baloo, uncoiling himself with a jerk. "it is true what hathi, the wild elephant, says: '_to each his own fear_'; and they, the bandar-log, fear kaa, the rock snake. he can climb as well as they can. he steals the young monkeys in the night. the mere whisper of his name makes their wicked tails cold. let us go to kaa." "what will he do for us? he is not of our tribe, being footless and with most evil eyes," said bagheera. "he is very old and very cunning. above all, he is always hungry," said baloo, hopefully. "promise him many goats." "he sleeps for a full month after he has once eaten. he may be asleep now, and even were he awake, what if he would rather kill his own goats?" bagheera, who did not know much about kaa, was naturally suspicious. "then in that case, thou and i together, old hunter, may make him see reason." here baloo rubbed his faded brown shoulder against the panther, and they went off to look for kaa, the rock python. they found him stretched out on a warm ledge in the afternoon sun, admiring his beautiful new coat, for he had been in retirement for the last ten days changing his skin, and now he was very splendid--darting his big blunt-nosed head along the ground, and twisting the thirty feet of his body into fantastic knots and curves, and licking his lips as he thought of his dinner to come. "he has not eaten," said baloo, with a grunt of relief, as soon as he saw the beautifully mottled brown and yellow jacket. "be careful, bagheera! he is always a little blind after he has changed his skin, and very quick to strike." kaa was not a poison snake--in fact he rather despised the poison snakes for cowards; but his strength lay in his hug, and when he had once lapped his huge coils round anybody there was no more to be said. "good hunting!" cried baloo, sitting up on his haunches. like all snakes of his breed kaa was rather deaf, and did not hear the call at first. then he curled up ready for any accident, his head lowered. "good hunting for us all," he answered. "oho, baloo, what dost thou do here? good hunting, bagheera. one of us at least needs food. is there any news of game afoot? a doe now, or even a young buck? i am as empty as a dried well." "we are hunting," said baloo, carelessly. he knew that you must not hurry kaa. he is too big. "give me permission to come with you," said kaa. "a blow more or less is nothing to thee, bagheera or baloo, but i--i have to wait and wait for days in a wood path and climb half a night on the mere chance of a young ape. _pss naw!_ the branches are not what they were when i was young. rotten twigs and dry boughs are they all." "maybe thy great weight has something to do with the matter," said baloo. "i am a fair length--a fair length," said kaa, with a little pride. "but for all that, it is the fault of this new-grown timber. i came very near to falling on my last hunt,--very near indeed,--and the noise of my slipping, for my tail was not tight wrapped round the tree, waked the bandar-log, and they called me most evil names." "'footless, yellow earthworm,'" said bagheera under his whiskers, as though he were trying to remember something. "_sssss!_ have they ever called me _that_?" said kaa. "something of that kind it was that they shouted to us last moon, but we never noticed them. they will say anything--even that thou hast lost all thy teeth, and dare not face anything bigger than a kid, because (they are indeed shameless, these bandar-log)--because thou art afraid of the he-goats' horns," bagheera went on sweetly. now a snake, especially a wary old python like kaa, very seldom shows that he is angry; but baloo and bagheera could see the big swallowing muscles on either side of kaa's throat ripple and bulge. "the bandar-log have shifted their grounds," he said, quietly. "when i came up into the sun today i heard them whooping among the tree-tops." "it--it is the bandar-log that we follow now," said baloo; but the words stuck in his throat, for this was the first time in his memory that one of the jungle people had owned to being interested in the doings of the monkeys. "beyond doubt, then, it is no small thing that takes two such hunters--leaders in their own jungle, i am certain--on the trail of the bandar-log," kaa replied, courteously, as he swelled with curiosity. "indeed," baloo began, "i am no more than the old, and sometimes very foolish, teacher of the law to the seeonee wolf-cubs, and bagheera here--" "is bagheera," said the black panther, and his jaws shut with a snap, for he did not believe in being humble. "the trouble is this, kaa. those nut-stealers and pickers of palm-leaves have stolen away our man-cub, of whom thou hast perhaps heard." "i heard some news from ikki (his quills make him presumptuous) of a man-thing that was entered into a wolf-pack, but i did not believe. ikki is full of stories half heard and very badly told." "but it is true. he is such a man-cub as never was," said baloo. "the best and wisest and boldest of man-cubs. my own pupil, who shall make the name of baloo famous through all the jungles; and besides, i--we--love him, kaa." "_ts! ts!_" said kaa, shaking his head to and fro. "i also have known what love is. there are tales i could tell that--" "that need a clear night when we are all well fed to praise properly," said bagheera, quickly. "our man-cub is in the hands of the bandar-log now, and we know that of all the jungle people they fear kaa alone." "they fear me alone. they have good reason," said kaa. "chattering, foolish, vain--vain, foolish, and chattering--are the monkeys. but a man-thing in their hands is in no good luck. they grow tired of the nuts they pick, and throw them down. they carry a branch half a day, meaning to do great things with it, and then they snap it in two. that manling is not to be envied. they called me also--'yellow fish,' was it not?" "worm--worm--earthworm," said bagheera; "as well as other things which i cannot now say for shame." "we must remind them to speak well of their master. _aaa-sssh!_ we must help their wandering memories. now, whither went they with thy cub?" "the jungle alone knows. toward the sunset, i believe," said baloo. "we had thought that thou wouldst know, kaa." "i? how? i take them when they come in my way, but i do not hunt the bandar-log--or frogs--or green scum on a water-hole, for that matter." "up, up! up, up! _hillo! illo! illo!_ look up, baloo of the seeonee wolf pack!" baloo looked up to see where the voice came from, and there was rann, the kite, sweeping down with the sun shining on the upturned flanges of his wings. it was near rann's bedtime, but he had ranged all over the jungle looking for the bear, and missed him in the thick foliage. "what is it?" said baloo. "i have seen mowgli among the bandar-log. he bade me tell you. i watched. the bandar-log have taken him beyond the river to the monkey city--to the cold lairs. they may stay there for a night, or ten nights, or an hour. i have told the bats to watch through the dark time. that is my message. good hunting, all you below!" "full gorge and a deep sleep to you, rann!" cried bagheera. "i will remember thee in my next kill, and put aside the head for thee alone, o best of kites!" "it is nothing. it is nothing. the boy held the master word. i could have done no less," and rann circled up again to his roost. "he has not forgotten to use his tongue," said baloo, with a chuckle of pride. "to think of one so young remembering the master word for the birds while he was being pulled across trees!" "it was most firmly driven into him," said bagheera. "but i am proud of him, and now we must go to the cold lairs." they all knew where that place was, but few of the jungle people ever went there, because what they called the cold lairs was an old deserted city, lost and buried in the jungle, and beasts seldom use a place that men have once used. the wild boar will, but the hunting-tribes do not. besides, the monkeys lived there as much as they could be said to live anywhere, and no self-respecting animal would come within eye-shot of it except in times of drouth, when the half-ruined tanks and reservoirs held a little water. "it is half a night's journey--at full speed," said bagheera. baloo looked very serious. "i will go as fast as i can," he said, anxiously. "we dare not wait for thee. follow, baloo. we must go on the quick-foot--kaa and i." "feet or no feet, i can keep abreast of all thy four," said kaa, shortly. baloo made one effort to hurry, but had to sit down panting, and so they left him to come on later, while bagheera hurried forward, at the rocking panther-canter. kaa said nothing, but, strive as bagheera might, the huge rock python held level with him. when they came to a hill-stream, bagheera gained, because he bounded across while kaa swam, his head and two feet of his neck clearing the water, but on level ground kaa made up the distance. "by the broken lock that freed me," said bagheera, when twilight had fallen, "thou art no slow-goer." "i am hungry," said kaa. "besides, they called me speckled frog." "worm--earthworm, and yellow to boot." "all one. let us go on," and kaa seemed to pour himself along the ground, finding the shortest road with his steady eyes, and keeping to it. in the cold lairs the monkey people were not thinking of mowgli's friends at all. they had brought the boy to the lost city, and were very pleased with themselves for the time. mowgli had never seen an indian city before, and though this was almost a heap of ruins it seemed very wonderful and splendid. some king had built it long ago on a little hill. you could still trace the stone causeways that led up to the ruined gates where the last splinters of wood hung to the worn, rusted hinges. trees had grown into and out of the walls; the battlements were tumbled down and decayed, and wild creepers hung out of the windows of the towers on the walls in bushy hanging clumps. a great roofless palace crowned the hill, and the marble of the courtyards and the fountains was split and stained with red and green, and the very cobblestones in the courtyard where the king's elephants used to live had been thrust up and apart by grasses and young trees. from the palace you could see the rows and rows of roofless houses that made up the city, looking like empty honeycombs filled with blackness; the shapeless block of stone that had been an idol in the square where four roads met; the pits and dimples at street corners where the public wells once stood, and the shattered domes of temples with wild figs sprouting on their sides. the monkeys called the place their city, and pretended to despise the jungle people because they lived in the forest. and yet they never knew what the buildings were made for nor how to use them. they would sit in circles on the hall of the king's council-chamber, and scratch for fleas and pretend to be men; or they would run in and out of the roofless houses and collect pieces of plaster and old bricks in a corner, and forget where they had hidden them, and fight and cry in scuffling crowds, and then break off to play up and down the terraces of the king's garden, where they would shake the rose-trees and the oranges in sport to see the fruit and flowers fall. they explored all the passages and dark tunnels in the palace and the hundreds of little dark rooms; but they never remembered what they had seen and what they had not, and so drifted about in ones and twos or crowds, telling one another that they were doing as men did. they drank at the tanks and made the water all muddy, and then they fought over it, and then they would all rush together in mobs and shout: "there are none in the jungle so wise and good and clever and strong and gentle as the bandar-log." then all would begin again till they grew tired of the city and went back to the tree-tops, hoping the jungle people would notice them. mowgli, who had been trained under the law of the jungle, did not like or understand this kind of life. the monkeys dragged him into the cold lairs late in the afternoon, and instead of going to sleep, as mowgli would have done after a long journey, they joined hands and danced about and sang their foolish songs. one of the monkeys made a speech, and told his companions that mowgli's capture marked a new thing in the history of the bandar-log, for mowgli was going to show them how to weave sticks and canes together as a protection against rain and cold. mowgli picked up some creepers and began to work them in and out, and the monkeys tried to imitate; but in a very few minutes they lost interest and began to pull their friends' tails or jump up and down on all fours, coughing. "i want to eat," said mowgli. "i am a stranger in this part of the jungle. bring me food, or give me leave to hunt here." twenty or thirty monkeys bounded away to bring him nuts and wild pawpaws; but they fell to fighting on the road, and it was too much trouble to go back with what was left of the fruit. mowgli was sore and angry as well as hungry, and he roamed through the empty city giving the strangers' hunting call from time to time, but no one answered him, and mowgli felt that he had reached a very bad place indeed. "all that baloo has said about the bandar-log is true," he thought to himself. "they have no law, no hunting call, and no leaders--nothing but foolish words and little picking, thievish hands. so if i am starved or killed here, it will be all my own fault. but i must try to return to my own jungle. baloo will surely beat me, but that is better than chasing silly rose-leaves with the bandar-log." but no sooner had he walked to the city wall than the monkeys pulled him back, telling him that he did not know how happy he was, and pinching him to make him grateful. he set his teeth and said nothing, but went with the shouting monkeys to a terrace above the red sandstone reservoirs that were half full of rain-water. there was a ruined summer-house of white marble in the center of the terrace, built for queens dead a hundred years ago. the domed roof had half fallen in and blocked up the underground passage from the palace by which the queens used to enter; but the walls were made of screens of marble tracery--beautiful, milk-white fretwork, set with agates and cornelians and jasper and lapis lazuli, and as the moon came up behind the hill it shone through the openwork, casting shadows on the ground like black-velvet embroidery. sore, sleepy, and hungry as he was, mowgli could not help laughing when the bandar-log began, twenty at a time, to tell him how great and wise and strong and gentle they were, and how foolish he was to wish to leave them. "we are great. we are free. we are wonderful. we are the most wonderful people in all the jungle! we all say so, and so it must be true," they shouted. "now as you are a new listener and can carry our words back to the jungle people so that they may notice us in future, we will tell you all about our most excellent selves." mowgli made no objection, and the monkeys gathered by hundreds and hundreds on the terrace to listen to their own speakers singing the praises of the bandar-log, and whenever a speaker stopped for want of breath they would all shout together: "this is true; we all say so." mowgli nodded and blinked, and said "yes" when they asked him a question, and his head spun with the noise. "tabaqui, the jackal, must have bitten all these people," he said to himself, "and now they have the madness. certainly this is _dewance_--the madness. do they never go to sleep? now there is a cloud coming to cover that moon. if it were only a big enough cloud i might try to run away in the darkness. but i am tired." that same cloud was being watched by two good friends in the ruined ditch below the city wall, for bagheera and kaa, knowing well how dangerous the monkey people were in large numbers, did not wish to run any risks. the monkeys never fight unless they are a hundred to one, and few in the jungle care for those odds. "i will go to the west wall," kaa whispered, "and come down swiftly with the slope of the ground in my favor. they will not throw themselves upon _my_ back in their hundreds, but--" "i know it," said bagheera. "would that baloo were here; but we must do what we can. when that cloud covers the moon i shall go to the terrace. they hold some sort of council there over the boy." "good hunting," said kaa, grimly, and glided away to the west wall. that happened to be the least ruined of any, and the big snake was delayed a while before he could find a way up the stones. the cloud hid the moon, and as mowgli wondered what would come next he heard bagheera's light feet on the terrace. the black panther had raced up the slope almost without a sound, and was striking--he knew better than to waste time in biting--right and left among the monkeys, who were seated round mowgli in circles fifty and sixty deep. there was a howl of fright and rage, and then as bagheera tripped on the rolling, kicking bodies beneath him, a monkey shouted: "there is only one here! kill him! kill!" a scuffling mass of monkeys, biting, scratching, tearing, and pulling, closed over bagheera, while five or six laid hold of mowgli, dragged him up the wall of the summer-house, and pushed him through the hole of the broken dome. a man-trained boy would have been badly bruised, for the fall was a good ten feet, but mowgli fell as baloo had taught him to fall, and landed light. "stay there," shouted the monkeys, "till we have killed thy friend. later we will play with thee, if the poison people leave thee alive." "we be of one blood, ye and i," said mowgli, quickly giving the snake's call. he could hear rustling and hissing in the rubbish all round him, and gave the call a second time to make sure. "down hoods all," said half a dozen low voices. every old ruin in india becomes sooner or later a dwelling-place of snakes, and the old summer-house was alive with cobras. "stand still, little brother, lest thy feet do us harm." mowgli stood as quietly as he could, peering through the openwork and listening to the furious din of the fight round the black panther--the yells and chatterings and scufflings, and bagheera's deep, hoarse cough as he backed and bucked and twisted and plunged under the heaps of his enemies. for the first time since he was born, bagheera was fighting for his life. "baloo must be at hand; bagheera would not have come alone," mowgli thought; and then he called aloud: "to the tank, bagheera! roll to the water-tanks! roll and plunge! get to the water!" bagheera heard, and the cry that told him mowgli was safe gave him new courage. he worked his way desperately, inch by inch, straight for the reservoirs, hitting in silence. then from the ruined wall nearest the jungle rose up the rumbling war-shout of baloo. the old bear had done his best, but he could not come before. "bagheera," he shouted, "i am here! i climb! i haste! _ahuwora!_ the stones slip under my feet! wait my coming, o most infamous bandar log!" he panted up the terrace only to disappear to the head in a wave of monkeys, but he threw himself squarely on his haunches, and spreading out his fore paws, hugged as many as he could hold, and then began to hit with a regular _bat-bat-bat_, like the flipping strokes of a paddle-wheel. a crash and a splash told mowgli that bagheera had fought his way to the tank, where the monkeys could not follow. the panther lay gasping for breath, his head just out of water, while the monkeys stood three deep on the red stone steps, dancing up and down with rage, ready to spring upon him from all sides if he came out to help baloo. it was then that bagheera lifted up his dripping chin, and in despair gave the snake's call for protection,--"we be of one blood, ye and i,"--for he believed that kaa had turned tail at the last minute. even baloo, half smothered under the monkeys on the edge of the terrace, could not help chuckling as he heard the big black panther asking for help. kaa had only just worked his way over the west wall, landing with a wrench that dislodged a coping-stone into the ditch. he had no intention of losing any advantage of the ground, and coiled and uncoiled himself once or twice, to be sure that every foot of his long body was in working order. all that while the fight with baloo went on, and the monkeys yelled in the tank round bagheera, and mang, the bat, flying to and fro, carried the news of the great battle over the jungle, till even hathi, the wild elephant, trumpeted, and, far away, scattered bands of the monkey folk woke and came leaping along the tree-roads to help their comrades in the cold lairs, and the noise of the fight roused all the day-birds for miles round. then kaa came straight, quickly, and anxious to kill. the fighting strength of a python is in the driving blow of his head, backed by all the strength and weight of his body. if you can imagine a lance, or a battering-ram, or a hammer, weighing nearly half a ton driven by a cool, quiet mind living in the handle of it, you can imagine roughly what kaa was like when he fought. a python four or five feet long can knock a man down if he hits him fairly in the chest, and kaa was thirty feet long, as you know. his first stroke was delivered into the heart of the crowd round baloo--was sent home with shut mouth in silence, and there was no need of a second. the monkeys scattered with cries of "kaa! it is kaa! run! run!" generations of monkeys had been scared into good behavior by the stories their elders told them of kaa, the night-thief, who could slip along the branches as quietly as moss grows, and steal away the strongest monkey that ever lived; of old kaa, who could make himself look so like a dead branch or a rotten stump that the wisest were deceived till the branch caught them, and then-kaa was everything that the monkeys feared in the jungle, for none of them knew the limits of his power, none of them could look him in the face, and none had ever come alive out of his hug. and so they ran, stammering with terror, to the walls and the roofs of the houses, and baloo drew a deep breath of relief. his fur was much thicker than bagheera's, but he had suffered sorely in the fight. then kaa opened his mouth for the first time and spoke one long hissing word, and the far-away monkeys, hurrying to the defense of the cold lairs, stayed where they were, cowering, till the loaded branches bent and crackled under them. the monkeys on the walls and the empty houses stopped their cries, and in the stillness that fell upon the city mowgli heard bagheera shaking his wet sides as he came up from the tank. then the clamor broke out again. the monkeys leaped higher up the walls; they clung round the necks of the big stone idols and shrieked as they skipped along the battlements; while mowgli, dancing in the summer-house, put his eye to the screenwork and hooted owl-fashion between his front teeth, to show his derision and contempt. "get the man-cub out of that trap; i can do no more," bagheera gasped. "let us take the man-cub and go. they may attack again." "they will not move till i order them. stay you sssso!" kaa hissed, and the city was silent once more. "i could not come before, brother, but i _think_ i heard thee call"--this was to bagheera. "i--i may have cried out in the battle," bagheera answered. "baloo, art thou hurt?" "i am not sure that they have not pulled me into a hundred little bearlings," said baloo, gravely shaking one leg after the other. "wow! i am sore. kaa, we owe thee, i think, our lives--bagheera and i." "no matter. where is the manling?" "here, in a trap. i cannot climb out," cried mowgli. the curve of the broken dome was above his head. "take him away. he dances like mao, the peacock. he will crush our young," said the cobras inside. "hah!" said kaa, with a chuckle, "he has friends everywhere, this manling. stand back, manling; and hide you, o poison people. i break down the wall." kaa looked carefully till he found a discolored crack in the marble tracery showing a weak spot, made two or three light taps with his head to get the distance, and then lifting up six feet of his body clear of the ground, sent home half a dozen full-power, smashing blows, nose-first. the screenwork broke and fell away in a cloud of dust and rubbish, and mowgli leaped through the opening and flung himself between baloo and bagheera--an arm round each big neck. "art thou hurt?" said baloo, hugging him softly. "i am sore, hungry, and not a little bruised; but, oh, they have handled ye grievously, my brothers! ye bleed." "others also," said bagheera, licking his lips and looking at the monkey-dead on the terrace and round the tank. "it is nothing, it is nothing if thou art safe, o my pride of all little frogs!" whimpered baloo. "of that we shall judge later," said bagheera, in a dry voice that mowgli did not at all like. "but here is kaa, to whom we owe the battle and thou owest thy life. thank him according to our customs, mowgli." mowgli turned and saw the great python's head swaying a foot above his own. "so this is the manling," said kaa. "very soft is his skin, and he is not so unlike the bandar-log. have a care, manling, that i do not mistake thee for a monkey some twilight when i have newly changed my coat." "we be of one blood, thou and i," mowgli answered. "i take my life from thee, to-night. my kill shall be thy kill if ever thou art hungry, o kaa." "all thanks, little brother," said kaa, though his eyes twinkled. "and what may so bold a hunter kill? i ask that i may follow when next he goes abroad." "i kill nothing,--i am too little,--but i drive goats toward such as can use them. when thou art empty come to me and see if i speak the truth. i have some skill in these [he held out his hands], and if ever thou art in a trap, i may pay the debt which i owe to thee, to bagheera, and to baloo, here. good hunting to ye all, my masters." "well said," growled baloo, for mowgli had returned thanks very prettily. the python dropped his head lightly for a minute on mowgli's shoulder. "a brave heart and a courteous tongue," said he. "they shall carry thee far through the jungle, manling. but now go hence quickly with thy friends. go and sleep, for the moon sets, and what follows it is not well that thou shouldst see." the moon was sinking behind the hills and the lines of trembling monkeys huddled together on the walls and battlements looked like ragged, shaky fringes of things. baloo went down to the tank for a drink, and bagheera began to put his fur in order, as kaa glided out into the center of the terrace and brought his jaws together with a ringing snap that drew all the monkeys' eyes upon him. "the moon sets," he said. "is there yet light to see?" from the walls came a moan like the wind in the tree-tops: "we see, o kaa!" "good! begins now the dance--the dance of the hunger of kaa. sit still and watch." he turned twice or thrice in a big circle, weaving his head from right to left. then he began making loops and figures of eight with his body, and soft, oozy triangles that melted into squares and five-sided figures, and coiled mounds, never resting, never hurrying, and never stopping his low, humming song. it grew darker and darker, till at last the dragging, shifting coils disappeared, but they could hear the rustle of the scales. baloo and bagheera stood still as stone, growling in their throats, their neck-hair bristling, and mowgli watched and wondered. "bandar-log," said the voice of kaa at last, "can ye stir foot or hand without my order? speak!" "without thy order we cannot stir foot or hand, o kaa!" "good! come all one pace nearer to me." the lines of the monkeys swayed forward helplessly, and baloo and bagheera took one stiff step forward with them. "nearer!" hissed kaa, and they all moved again. mowgli laid his hands on baloo and bagheera to get them away, and the two great beasts started as though they had been waked from a dream. "keep thy hand on my shoulder," bagheera whispered. "keep it there, or i must go back--must go back to kaa. _aah!_" "it is only old kaa making circles on the dust," said mowgli; "let us go"; and the three slipped off through a gap in the walls to the jungle. "_whoof!_" said baloo, when he stood under the still trees again. "never more will i make an ally of kaa," and he shook himself all over. "he knows more than we," said bagheera, trembling. "in a little time, had i stayed, i should have walked down his throat." "many will walk that road before the moon rises again," said baloo. "he will have good hunting--after his own fashion." "but what was the meaning of it all?" said mowgli, who did not know anything of a python's powers of fascination. "i saw no more than a big snake making foolish circles till the dark came. and his nose was all sore. ho! ho!" "mowgli," said bagheera, angrily, "his nose was sore on _thy_ account; as my ears and sides and paws, and baloo's neck and shoulders are bitten on _thy_ account. neither baloo nor bagheera will be able to hunt with pleasure for many days." "it is nothing," said baloo; "we have the man-cub again." "true; but he has cost us most heavily in time which might have been spent in good hunting, in wounds, in hair,--i am half plucked along my back,--and last of all, in honor. for, remember, mowgli, i, who am the black panther, was forced to call upon kaa for protection, and baloo and i were both made stupid as little birds by the hunger-dance. all this, man-cub, came of thy playing with the bandar-log." "true; it is true," said mowgli, sorrowfully. "i am an evil man-cub, and my stomach is sad in me." "_mf!_ what says the law of the jungle, baloo?" baloo did not wish to bring mowgli into any more trouble, but he could not tamper with the law, so he mumbled, "sorrow never stays punishment. but remember, bagheera, he is very little." "i will remember; but he has done mischief; and blows must be dealt now. mowgli, hast thou anything to say?" "nothing. i did wrong. baloo and thou art wounded. it is just." bagheera gave him half a dozen love-taps; from a panther's point of view they would hardly have waked one of his own cubs, but for a seven year-old boy they amounted to as severe a beating as you could wish to avoid. when it was all over mowgli sneezed, and picked himself up without a word. "now," said bagheera, "jump on my back, little brother, and we will go home." one of the beauties of jungle law is that punishment settles all scores. there is no nagging afterward. mowgli laid his head down on bagheera's back and slept so deeply that he never waked when he was put down by mother wolf's side in the home-cave. road-song of the bandar-log here we go in a flung festoon, half-way up to the jealous moon! don't you envy our pranceful bands? don't you wish you had extra hands? wouldn't you like if your tails were--_so_- curved in the shape of a cupid's bow? now you're angry, but--never mind, _brother, thy tail hangs down behind_! here we sit in a branchy row, thinking of beautiful things we know; dreaming of deeds that we mean to do, all complete, in a minute or two- something noble and grand and good, won by merely wishing we could. now we're going to--never mind, _brother, thy tail hangs down behind_! all the talk we ever have heard uttered by bat or beast or bird- hide or fin or scale or feather- jabber it quickly and all together! excellent! wonderful! once again! now we are talking just like men. let's pretend we are ... never mind, _brother, thy tail hangs down behind_! this is the way of the monkey-kind. _then join our leaping lines that scumfish through the pines, that rocket by where, light and high, the wild-grape swings. by the rubbish in our wake, and the noble noise we make, be sure, be sure, we're going to do some splendid things!_ "tiger! tiger!" what of the hunting, hunter bold? _brother, the watch was long and cold._ what of the quarry ye went to kill? _brother, he crops in the jungle still._ where is the power that made your pride? _brother, it ebbs from my flank and side._ where is the haste that ye hurry by? _brother, i go to my lair--to die._ [illustration] "tiger! tiger!" now we must go back to the last tale but one. when mowgli left the wolf's cave after the fight with the pack at the council rock, he went down to the plowed lands where the villagers lived, but he would not stop there because it was too near to the jungle, and he knew that he had made at least one bad enemy at the council. so he hurried on, keeping to the rough road that ran down the valley, and followed it at a steady jog-trot for nearly twenty miles, till he came to a country that he did not know. the valley opened out into a great plain dotted over with rocks and cut up by ravines. at one end stood a little village, and at the other the thick jungle came down in a sweep to the grazing-grounds, and stopped there as though it had been cut off with a hoe. all over the plain, cattle and buffaloes were grazing, and when the little boys in charge of the herds saw mowgli they shouted and ran away, and the yellow pariah dogs that hang about every indian village barked. mowgli walked on, for he was feeling hungry, and when he came to the village gate he saw the big thorn-bush that was drawn up before the gate at twilight, pushed to one side. "umph!" he said, for he had come across more than one such barricade in his night rambles after things to eat. "so men are afraid of the people of the jungle here also." he sat down by the gate, and when a man came out he stood up, opened his mouth, and pointed down it to show that he wanted food. the man stared, and ran back up the one street of the village shouting for the priest, who was a big, fat man dressed in white, with a red and yellow mark on his forehead. the priest came to the gate, and with him at least a hundred people, who stared and talked and shouted and pointed at mowgli. "they have no manners, these men folk," said mowgli to himself. "only the gray ape would behave as they do." so he threw back his long hair and frowned at the crowd. "what is there to be afraid of?" said the priest. "look at the marks on his arms and legs. they are the bites of wolves. he is but a wolf-child run away from the jungle." of course, in playing together, the cubs had often nipped mowgli harder than they intended, and there were white scars all over his arms and legs. but he would have been the last person in the world to call these bites; for he knew what real biting meant. "_arrã©! arrã©!_" said two or three women together. "to be bitten by wolves, poor child! he is a handsome boy. he has eyes like red fire. by my honor, messua, he is not unlike thy boy that was taken by the tiger." "let me look," said a woman with heavy copper rings on her wrists and ankles, and she peered at mowgli under the palm of her hand. "indeed he is not. he is thinner, but he has the very look of my boy." the priest was a clever man, and he knew that messua was wife to the richest villager in the place. so he looked up at the sky for a minute, and said solemnly: "what the jungle has taken the jungle has restored. take the boy into thy house, my sister, and forget not to honor the priest who sees so far into the lives of men." "by the bull that bought me," said mowgli to himself, "but all this talking is like another looking-over by the pack! well, if i am a man, a man i must become." the crowd parted as the woman beckoned mowgli to her hut, where there was a red lacquered bedstead, a great earthen grain-chest with curious raised patterns on it, half a dozen copper cooking-pots, an image of a hindu god in a little alcove, and on the wall a real looking-glass, such as they sell at the country fairs. she gave him a long drink of milk and some bread, and then she laid her hand on his head and looked into his eyes; for she thought perhaps that he might be her real son come back from the jungle where the tiger had taken him. so she said: "nathoo, o nathoo!" mowgli did not show that he knew the name. "dost thou not remember the day when i gave thee thy new shoes?" she touched his foot, and it was almost as hard as horn. "no," she said, sorrowfully; "those feet have never worn shoes, but thou art very like my nathoo, and thou shalt be my son." mowgli was uneasy, because he had never been under a roof before; but as he looked at the thatch, he saw that he could tear it out any time if he wanted to get away, and that the window had no fastenings. "what is the good of a man," he said to himself at last, "if he does not understand man's talk? now i am as silly and dumb as a man would be with us in the jungle. i must learn their talk." it was not for fun that he had learned while he was with the wolves to imitate the challenge of bucks in the jungle and the grunt of the little wild pig. so as soon as messua pronounced a word mowgli would imitate it almost perfectly, and before dark he had learned the names of many things in the hut. there was a difficulty at bedtime, because mowgli would not sleep under anything that looked so like a panther-trap as that hut, and when they shut the door he went through the window. "give him his will," said messua's husband. "remember he can never till now have slept on a bed. if he is indeed sent in the place of our son he will not run away." so mowgli stretched himself in some long, clean grass at the edge of the field, but before he had closed his eyes a soft gray nose poked him under the chin. "phew!" said gray brother (he was the eldest of mother wolf's cubs). "this is a poor reward for following thee twenty miles. thou smellest of wood-smoke and cattle--altogether like a man already. wake, little brother; i bring news." [illustration: "'wake, little brother; i bring news.'"] "are all well in the jungle?" said mowgli, hugging him. "all except the wolves that were burned with the red flower. now, listen. shere khan has gone away to hunt far off till his coat grows again, for he is badly singed. when he returns he swears that he will lay thy bones in the waingunga." "there are two words to that. i also have made a little promise. but news is always good. i am tired to-night,--very tired with new things, gray brother,--but bring me the news always." "thou wilt not forget that thou art a wolf? men will not make thee forget?" said gray brother, anxiously. "never. i will always remember that i love thee and all in our cave; but also i will always remember that i have been cast out of the pack." "and that thou mayest be cast out of another pack. men are only men, little brother, and their talk is like the talk of frogs in a pond. when i come down here again, i will wait for thee in the bamboos at the edge of the grazing-ground." for three months after that night mowgli hardly ever left the village gate, he was so busy learning the ways and customs of men. first he had to wear a cloth round him, which annoyed him horribly; and then he had to learn about money, which he did not in the least understand, and about plowing, of which he did not see the use. then the little children in the village made him very angry. luckily, the law of the jungle had taught him to keep his temper, for in the jungle, life and food depend on keeping your temper; but when they made fun of him because he would not play games or fly kites, or because he mispronounced some word, only the knowledge that it was unsportsmanlike to kill little naked cubs kept him from picking them up and breaking them in two. he did not know his own strength in the least. in the jungle he knew he was weak compared with the beasts, but in the village, people said he was as strong as a bull. and mowgli had not the faintest idea of the difference that caste makes between man and man. when the potter's donkey slipped in the clay-pit, mowgli hauled it out by the tail, and helped to stack the pots for their journey to the market at khanhiwara. that was very shocking, too, for the potter is a low-caste man, and his donkey is worse. when the priest scolded him, mowgli threatened to put him on the donkey, too, and the priest told messua's husband that mowgli had better be set to work as soon as possible; and the village head-man told mowgli that he would have to go out with the buffaloes next day, and herd them while they grazed. no one was more pleased than mowgli; and that night, because he had been appointed a servant of the village, as it were, he went off to a circle that met every evening on a masonry platform under a great fig-tree. it was the village club, and the head-man and the watchman and the barber (who knew all the gossip of the village), and old buldeo, the village hunter, who had a tower musket, met and smoked. the monkeys sat and talked in the upper branches, and there was a hole under the platform where a cobra lived, and he had his little platter of milk every night because he was sacred; and the old men sat around the tree and talked, and pulled at the big _huqas_ (the water-pipes) till far into the night. they told wonderful tales of gods and men and ghosts; and buldeo told even more wonderful ones of the ways of beasts in the jungle, till the eyes of the children sitting outside the circle bulged out of their heads. most of the tales were about animals, for the jungle was always at their door. the deer and the wild pig grubbed up their crops, and now and again the tiger carried off a man at twilight, within sight of the village gates. mowgli, who naturally knew something about what they were talking of, had to cover his face not to show that he was laughing, while buldeo, the tower musket across his knees, climbed on from one wonderful story to another, and mowgli's shoulders shook. buldeo was explaining how the tiger that had carried away messua's son was a ghost-tiger, and his body was inhabited by the ghost of a wicked old money-lender, who had died some years ago. "and i know that this is true," he said, "because purun dass always limped from the blow that he got in a riot when his account-books were burned, and the tiger that i speak of _he_ limps, too, for the tracks of his pads are unequal." "true, true; that must be the truth," said the graybeards, nodding together. "are all these tales such cobwebs and moon-talk?" said mowgli. "that tiger limps because he was born lame, as every one knows. to talk of the soul of a money-lender in a beast that never had the courage of a jackal is child's talk." [illustration: "'are all these tales such cobwebs and moontalk?' said mowgli."] buldeo was speechless with surprise for a moment, and the head-man stared. "oho! it is the jungle brat, is it?" said buldeo. "if thou art so wise, better bring his hide to khanhiwara, for the government has set a hundred rupees [$30] on his life. better still, do not talk when thy elders speak." mowgli rose to go. "all the evening i have lain here listening," he called back over his shoulder, "and, except once or twice, buldeo has not said one word of truth concerning the jungle, which is at his very doors. how, then, shall i believe the tales of ghosts and gods and goblins which he says he has seen?" "it is full time that boy went to herding," said the head-man, while buldeo puffed and snorted at mowgli's impertinence. the custom of most indian villages is for a few boys to take the cattle and buffaloes out to graze in the early morning, and bring them back at night; and the very cattle that would trample a white man to death allow themselves to be banged and bullied and shouted at by children that hardly come up to their noses. so long as the boys keep with the herds they are safe, for not even the tiger will charge a mob of cattle. but if they straggle to pick flowers or hunt lizards, they are sometimes carried off. mowgli went through the village street in the dawn, sitting on the back of rama, the great herd bull; and the slaty-blue buffaloes, with their long, backward-sweeping horns and savage eyes, rose out of their byres, one by one, and followed him, and mowgli made it very clear to the children with him that he was the master. he beat the buffaloes with a long, polished bamboo, and told kamya, one of the boys, to graze the cattle by themselves, while he went on with the buffaloes, and to be very careful not to stray away from the herd. an indian grazing-ground is all rocks and scrub and tussocks and little ravines, among which the herds scatter and disappear. the buffaloes generally keep to the pools and muddy places, where they lie wallowing or basking in the warm mud for hours. mowgli drove them on to the edge of the plain where the waingunga river came out of the jungle; then he dropped from rama's neck, trotted off to a bamboo clump, and found gray brother. "ah," said gray brother, "i have waited here very many days. what is the meaning of this cattle-herding work?" "it is an order," said mowgli. "i am a village herd for a while. what news of shere khan?" "he has come back to this country, and has waited here a long time for thee. now he has gone off again, for the game is scarce. but he means to kill thee." "very good," said mowgli. "so long as he is away do thou or one of the brothers sit on that rock, so that i can see thee as i come out of the village. when he comes back wait for me in the ravine by the _dhã¢k_-tree in the center of the plain. we need not walk into shere khan's mouth." then mowgli picked out a shady place, and lay down and slept while the buffaloes grazed round him. herding in india is one of the laziest things in the world. the cattle move and crunch, and lie down, and move on again, and they do not even low. they only grunt, and the buffaloes very seldom say anything, but get down into the muddy pools one after another, and work their way into the mud till only their noses and staring china-blue eyes show above the surface, and there they lie like logs. the sun makes the rocks dance in the heat, and the herd-children hear one kite (never any more) whistling almost out of sight overhead, and they know that if they died, or a cow died, that kite would sweep down, and the next kite miles away would see him drop and follow, and the next, and the next, and almost before they were dead there would be a score of hungry kites come out of nowhere. then they sleep and wake and sleep again, and weave little baskets of dried grass and put grasshoppers in them; or catch two praying-mantises and make them fight; or string a necklace of red and black jungle-nuts; or watch a lizard basking on a rock, or a snake hunting a frog near the wallows. then they sing long, long songs with odd native quavers at the end of them, and the day seems longer than most people's whole lives, and perhaps they make a mud castle with mud figures of men and horses and buffaloes, and put reeds into the men's hands, and pretend that they are kings and the figures are their armies, or that they are gods to be worshiped. then evening comes, and the children call, and the buffaloes lumber up out of the sticky mud with noises like gunshots going off one after the other, and they all string across the gray plain back to the twinkling village lights. day after day mowgli would lead the buffaloes out to their wallows, and day after day he would see gray brother's back a mile and a half away across the plain (so he knew that shere khan had not come back), and day after day he would lie on the grass listening to the noise round him, and dreaming of old days in the jungle. if shere khan had made a false step with his lame paw up in the jungles by the waingunga, mowgli would have heard him in those long still mornings. [illustration] at last a day came when he did not see gray brother at the signal place, and he laughed and headed the buffaloes for the ravine by the _dhã¢k_-tree, which was all covered with golden-red flowers. there sat gray brother, every bristle on his back lifted. "he has hidden for a month to throw thee off thy guard. he crossed the ranges last night with tabaqui, hot-foot on thy trail," said the wolf, panting. mowgli frowned. "i am not afraid of shere khan, but tabaqui is very cunning." "have no fear," said gray brother, licking his lips a little. "i met tabaqui in the dawn. now he is telling all his wisdom to the kites, but he told _me_ everything before i broke his back. shere khan's plan is to wait for thee at the village gate this evening--for thee and for no one else. he is lying up now in the big dry ravine of the waingunga." "has he eaten to-day, or does he hunt empty?" said mowgli, for the answer meant life or death to him. "he killed at dawn,--a pig,--and he has drunk too. remember, shere khan could never fast even for the sake of revenge." "oh! fool, fool! what a cub's cub it is! eaten and drunk too, and he thinks that i shall wait till he has slept! now, where does he lie up? if there were but ten of us we might pull him down as he lies. these buffaloes will not charge unless they wind him, and i cannot speak their language. can we get behind his track so that they may smell it?" "he swam far down the waingunga to cut that off," said gray brother. "tabaqui told him that, i know. he would never have thought of it alone." mowgli stood with his finger in his mouth, thinking. "the big ravine of the waingunga. that opens out on the plain not half a mile from here. i can take the herd round through the jungle to the head of the ravine and then sweep down--but he would slink out at the foot. we must block that end. gray brother, canst thou cut the herd in two for me?" "not i, perhaps--but i have brought a wise helper." gray brother trotted off and dropped into a hole. then there lifted up a huge gray head that mowgli knew well, and the hot air was filled with the most desolate cry of all the jungle--the hunting-howl of a wolf at midday. "akela! akela!" said mowgli, clapping his hands. "i might have known that thou wouldst not forget me. we have a big work in hand. cut the herd in two, akela. keep the cows and calves together, and the bulls and the plow-buffaloes by themselves." the two wolves ran, ladies'-chain fashion, in and out of the herd, which snorted and threw up its head, and separated into two clumps. in one the cow-buffaloes stood, with their calves in the center, and glared and pawed, ready, if a wolf would only stay still, to charge down and trample the life out of him. in the other the bulls and the young bulls snorted and stamped; but, though they looked more imposing, they were much less dangerous, for they had no calves to protect. no six men could have divided the herd so neatly. "what orders!" panted akela. "they are trying to join again." mowgli slipped on to rama's back. "drive the bulls away to the left, akela. gray brother, when we are gone hold the cows together, and drive them into the foot of the ravine." "how far?" said gray brother, panting and snapping. "till the sides are higher than shere khan can jump," shouted mowgli. "keep them there till we come down." the bulls swept off as akela bayed, and gray brother stopped in front of the cows. they charged down on him, and he ran just before them to the foot of the ravine, as akela drove the bulls far to the left. "well done! another charge and they are fairly started. careful, now--careful, akela. a snap too much, and the bulls will charge. _hujah!_ this is wilder work than driving black-buck. didst thou think these creatures could move so swiftly?" mowgli called. "i have--have hunted these too in my time," gasped akela in the dust. "shall i turn them into the jungle?" "ay, turn! swiftly turn them. rama is mad with rage. oh, if i could only tell him what i need of him to-day!" the bulls were turned to the right this time, and crashed into the standing thicket. the other herd-children, watching with the cattle half a mile away, hurried to the village as fast as their legs could carry them, crying that the buffaloes had gone mad and run away. but mowgli's plan was simple enough. all he wanted to do was to make a big circle uphill and get at the head of the ravine, and then take the bulls down it and catch shere khan between the bulls and the cows, for he knew that after a meal and a full drink shere khan would not be in any condition to fight or to clamber up the sides of the ravine. he was soothing the buffaloes now by voice, and akela had dropped far to the rear, only whimpering once or twice to hurry the rear-guard. it was a long, long circle, for they did not wish to get too near the ravine and give shere khan warning. at last mowgli rounded up the bewildered herd at the head of the ravine on a grassy patch that sloped steeply down to the ravine itself. from that height you could see across the tops of the trees down to the plain below; but what mowgli looked at was the sides of the ravine, and he saw with a great deal of satisfaction that they ran nearly straight up and down, and the vines and creepers that hung over them would give no foothold to a tiger who wanted to get out. "let them breathe, akela," he said, holding up his hand. "they have not winded him yet. let them breathe. i must tell shere khan who comes. we have him in the trap." he put his hands to his mouth and shouted down the ravine,--it was almost like shouting down a tunnel,--and the echoes jumped from rock to rock. after a long time there came back the drawling, sleepy snarl of a full-fed tiger just awakened. "who calls?" said shere khan, and a splendid peacock fluttered up out of the ravine, screeching. "i, mowgli. cattle-thief, it is time to come to the council rock! down--hurry them down, akela. down, rama, down!" the herd paused for an instant at the edge of the slope, but akela gave tongue in the full hunting-yell, and they pitched over one after the other just as steamers shoot rapids, the sand and stones spurting up round them. once started, there was no chance of stopping, and before they were fairly in the bed of the ravine rama winded shere khan and bellowed. "ha! ha!" said mowgli, on his back. "now thou knowest!" and the torrent of black horns, foaming muzzles, and staring eyes whirled down the ravine like boulders in flood-time; the weaker buffaloes being shouldered out to the sides of the ravine where they tore through the creepers. they knew what the business was before them--the terrible charge of the buffalo-herd, against which no tiger can hope to stand. shere khan heard the thunder of their hoofs, picked himself up, and lumbered down the ravine, looking from side to side for some way of escape, but the walls of the ravine were straight, and he had to keep on, heavy with his dinner and his drink, willing to do anything rather than fight. the herd splashed through the pool he had just left, bellowing till the narrow cut rang. mowgli heard an answering bellow from the foot of the ravine, saw shere khan turn (the tiger knew if the worst came to the worst it was better to meet the bulls than the cows with their calves), and then rama tripped, stumbled, and went on again over something soft, and, with the bulls at his heels, crashed full into the other herd, while the weaker buffaloes were lifted clean off their feet by the shock of the meeting. that charge carried both herds out into the plain, goring and stamping and snorting. mowgli watched his time, and slipped off rama's neck, laying about him right and left with his stick. "quick, akela! break them up. scatter them, or they will be fighting one another. drive them away, akela. _hai_, rama! _hai! hai! hai!_ my children. softly now, softly! it is all over." akela and gray brother ran to and fro nipping the buffaloes' legs, and though the herd wheeled once to charge up the ravine again, mowgli managed to turn rama, and the others followed him to the wallows. shere khan needed no more trampling. he was dead, and the kites were coming for him already. "brothers, that was a dog's death," said mowgli, feeling for the knife he always carried in a sheath round his neck now that he lived with men. "but he would never have shown fight. his hide will look well on the council rock. we must get to work swiftly." a boy trained among men would never have dreamed of skinning a ten-foot tiger alone, but mowgli knew better than any one else how an animal's skin is fitted on, and how it can be taken off. but it was hard work, and mowgli slashed and tore and grunted for an hour, while the wolves lolled out their tongues, or came forward and tugged as he ordered them. presently a hand fell on his shoulder, and looking up he saw buldeo with the tower musket. the children had told the village about the buffalo stampede, and buldeo went out angrily, only too anxious to correct mowgli for not taking better care of the herd. the wolves dropped out of sight as soon as they saw the man coming. "what is this folly?" said buldeo, angrily. "to think that thou canst skin a tiger! where did the buffaloes kill him? it is the lame tiger, too, and there is a hundred rupees on his head. well, well, we will overlook thy letting the herd run off, and perhaps i will give thee one of the rupees of the reward when i have taken the skin to khanhiwara." he fumbled in his waist-cloth for flint and steel, and stooped down to singe shere khan's whiskers. most native hunters singe a tiger's whiskers to prevent his ghost haunting them. "hum!" said mowgli, half to himself as he ripped back the skin of a fore paw. "so thou wilt take the hide to khanhiwara for the reward, and perhaps give me one rupee? now it is in my mind that i need the skin for my own use. heh! old man, take away that fire!" "what talk is this to the chief hunter of the village? thy luck and the stupidity of thy buffaloes have helped thee to this kill. the tiger has just fed, or he would have gone twenty miles by this time. thou canst not even skin him properly, little beggar-brat, and forsooth i, buldeo, must be told not to singe his whiskers. mowgli, i will not give thee one anna of the reward, but only a very big beating. leave the carcass!" "by the bull that bought me," said mowgli, who was trying to get at the shoulder, "must i stay babbling to an old ape all noon? here, akela, this man plagues me." buldeo, who was still stooping over shere khan's head, found himself sprawling on the grass, with a gray wolf standing over him, while mowgli went on skinning as though he were alone in all india. "ye-es," he said, between his teeth. "thou art altogether right, buldeo. thou wilt never give me one anna of the reward. there is an old war between this lame tiger and myself--a very old war, and--i have won." to do buldeo justice, if he had been ten years younger he would have taken his chance with akela had he met the wolf in the woods, but a wolf who obeyed the orders of this boy who had private wars with man-eating tigers was not a common animal. it was sorcery, magic of the worst kind, thought buldeo, and he wondered whether the amulet round his neck would protect him. he lay as still as still, expecting every minute to see mowgli turn into a tiger, too. [illustration: "buldeo lay as still as still, expecting every minute to see mowgli turn into a tiger, too."] "maharaj! great king," he said at last, in a husky whisper. "yes," said mowgli, without turning his head, chuckling a little. "i am an old man. i did not know that thou wast anything more than a herd-boy. may i rise up and go away, or will thy servant tear me to pieces?" "go, and peace go with thee. only, another time do not meddle with my game. let him go, akela." buldeo hobbled away to the village as fast as he could, looking back over his shoulder in case mowgli should change into something terrible. when he got to the village he told a tale of magic and enchantment and sorcery that made the priest look very grave. mowgli went on with his work, but it was nearly twilight before he and the wolves had drawn the great gay skin clear of the body. "now we must hide this and take the buffaloes home! help me to herd them, akela." the herd rounded up in the misty twilight, and when they got near the village mowgli saw lights, and heard the conches and bells in the temple blowing and banging. half the village seemed to be waiting for him by the gate. "that is because i have killed shere khan," he said to himself; but a shower of stones whistled about his ears, and the villagers shouted: "sorcerer! wolf's brat! jungle-demon! go away! get hence quickly, or the priest will turn thee into a wolf again. shoot, buldeo, shoot!" the old tower musket went off with a bang, and a young buffalo bellowed in pain. "more sorcery!" shouted the villagers. "he can turn bullets. buldeo, that was _thy_ buffalo." "now what is this?" said mowgli, bewildered, as the stones flew thicker. "they are not unlike the pack, these brothers of thine," said akela, sitting down composedly. "it is in my head that, if bullets mean anything, they would cast thee out." "wolf! wolf's cub! go away!" shouted the priest, waving a sprig of the sacred _tulsi_ plant. "again? last time it was because i was a man. this time it is because i am a wolf. let us go, akela." a woman--it was messua--ran across to the herd, and cried: "oh, my son, my son! they say thou art a sorcerer who can turn himself into a beast at will. i do not believe, but go away or they will kill thee. buldeo says thou art a wizard, but i know thou hast avenged nathoo's death." "come back, messua!" shouted the crowd. "come back, or we will stone thee." mowgli laughed a little short ugly laugh, for a stone had hit him in the mouth. "run back, messua. this is one of the foolish tales they tell under the big tree at dusk. i have at least paid for thy son's life. farewell; and run quickly, for i shall send the herd in more swiftly than their brickbats. i am no wizard, messua. farewell! "now, once more, akela," he cried. "bring the herd in." the buffaloes were anxious enough to get to the village. they hardly needed akela's yell, but charged through the gate like a whirlwind, scattering the crowd right and left. "keep count!" shouted mowgli, scornfully. "it may be that i have stolen one of them. keep count, for i will do your herding no more. fare you well, children of men, and thank messua that i do not come in with my wolves and hunt you up and down your street." he turned on his heel and walked away with the lone wolf; and as he looked up at the stars he felt happy. "no more sleeping in traps for me, akela. let us get shere khan's skin and go away. no; we will not hurt the village, for messua was kind to me." when the moon rose over the plain, making it look all milky, the horrified villagers saw mowgli, with two wolves at his heels and a bundle on his head, trotting across at the steady wolf's trot that eats up the long miles like fire. then they banged the temple bells and blew the conches louder than ever; and messua cried, and buldeo embroidered the story of his adventures in the jungle, till he ended by saying that akela stood up on his hind legs and talked like a man. [illustration: "when the moon rose over the plain the villagers saw mowgli trotting across, with two wolves at his heels."] the moon was just going down when mowgli and the two wolves came to the hill of the council rock, and they stopped at mother wolf's cave. "they have cast me out from the man pack, mother," shouted mowgli, "but i come with the hide of shere khan to keep my word." mother wolf walked stiffly from the cave with the cubs behind her, and her eyes glowed as she saw the skin. "i told him on that day, when he crammed his head and shoulders into this cave, hunting for thy life, little frog--i told him that the hunter would be the hunted. it is well done." "little brother, it is well done," said a deep voice in the thicket. "we were lonely in the jungle without thee," and bagheera came running to mowgli's bare feet. they clambered up the council rock together, and mowgli spread the skin out on the flat stone where akela used to sit, and pegged it down with four slivers of bamboo, and akela lay down upon it, and called the old call to the council, "look--look well, o wolves!" exactly as he had called when mowgli was first brought there. [illustration: "they clambered up on the council rock together, and mowgli spread the skin out on the flat stone."] ever since akela had been deposed, the pack had been without a leader, hunting and fighting at their own pleasure. but they answered the call from habit, and some of them were lame from the traps they had fallen into, and some limped from shot-wounds, and some were mangy from eating bad food, and many were missing; but they came to the council rock, all that were left of them, and saw shere khan's striped hide on the rock, and the huge claws dangling at the end of the empty, dangling feet. it was then that mowgli made up a song without any rhymes, a song that came up into his throat all by itself, and he shouted it aloud, leaping up and down on the rattling skin, and beating time with his heels till he had no more breath left, while gray brother and akela howled between the verses. "look well, o wolves. have i kept my word?" said mowgli when he had finished; and the wolves bayed "yes," and one tattered wolf howled: "lead us again, o akela. lead us again, o man-cub, for we be sick of this lawlessness, and we would be the free people once more." "nay," purred bagheera, "that may not be. when ye are full-fed, the madness may come upon ye again. not for nothing are ye called the free people. ye fought for freedom, and it is yours. eat it, o wolves." "man pack and wolf pack have cast me out," said mowgli. "now i will hunt alone in the jungle." "and we will hunt with thee," said the four cubs. so mowgli went away and hunted with the four cubs in the jungle from that day on. but he was not always alone, because years afterward he became a man and married. but that is a story for grown-ups. mowgli's song that he sang at the council rock when he danced on shere khan's hide the song of mowgli--i, mowgli, am singing. let the jungle listen to the things i have done. shere khan said he would kill--would kill! at the gates in the twilight he would kill mowgli, the frog! he ate and he drank. drink deep, shere khan, for when wilt thou drink again? sleep and dream of the kill. i am alone on the grazing-grounds. gray brother, come to me! come to me, lone wolf, for there is big game afoot. bring up the great bull-buffaloes, the blue-skinned herd-bulls with the angry eyes. drive them to and fro as i order. sleepest thou still, shere khan? wake, o wake! here come i, and the bulls are behind. rama, the king of the buffaloes, stamped with his foot. waters of the waingunga, whither went shere khan? he is not ikki to dig holes, nor mao, the peacock, that he should fly. he is not mang, the bat, to hang in the branches. little bamboos that creak together, tell me where he ran? _ow!_ he is there. _ahoo!_ he is there. under the feet of rama lies the lame one! up, shere khan! up and kill! here is meat; break the necks of the bulls! _hsh!_ he is asleep. we will not wake him, for his strength is very great. the kites have come down to see it. the black ants have come up to know it. there is a great assembly in his honor. _alala!_ i have no cloth to wrap me. the kites will see that i am naked. i am ashamed to meet all these people. lend me thy coat, shere khan. lend me thy gay striped coat that i may go to the council rock. by the bull that bought me i have made a promise--a little promise. only thy coat is lacking before i keep my word. with the knife--with the knife that men use--with the knife of the hunter, the man, i will stoop down for my gift. waters of the waingunga, bear witness that shere khan gives me his coat for the love that he bears me. pull, gray brother! pull, akela! heavy is the hide of shere khan. the man pack are angry. they throw stones and talk child's talk. my mouth is bleeding. let us run away. through the night, through the hot night, run swiftly with me, my brothers. we will leave the lights of the village and go to the low moon. waters of the waingunga, the man pack have cast me out. i did them no harm, but they were afraid of me. why? wolf pack, ye have cast me out too. the jungle is shut to me and the village gates are shut. why? as mang flies between the beasts and the birds so fly i between the village and the jungle. why? i dance on the hide of shere khan, but my heart is very heavy. my mouth is cut and wounded with the stones from the village, but my heart is very light because i have come back to the jungle. why? these two things fight together in me as the snakes fight in the spring. the water comes out of my eyes; yet i laugh while it falls. why? i am two mowglis, but the hide of shere khan is under my feet. all the jungle knows that i have killed shere khan. look--look well, o wolves! _ahae!_ my heart is heavy with the things that i do not understand. the white seal oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us, and black are the waters that sparkled so green. the moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us at rest in the hollows that rustle between. where billow meets billow, there soft be thy pillow; ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease! the storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee, asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas. _seal lullaby._ [illustration] the white seal all these things happened several years ago at a place called novastoshnah, or north east point, on the island of st. paul, away and away in the bering sea. limmershin, the winter wren, told me the tale when he was blown on to the rigging of a steamer going to japan, and i took him down into my cabin and warmed and fed him for a couple of days till he was fit to fly back to st. paul's again. limmershin is a very odd little bird, but he knows how to tell the truth. nobody comes to novastoshnah except on business, and the only people who have regular business there are the seals. they come in the summer months by hundreds and hundreds of thousands out of the cold gray sea; for novastoshnah beach has the finest accommodation for seals of any place in all the world. sea catch knew that, and every spring would swim from whatever place he happened to be in--would swim like a torpedo-boat straight for novastoshnah, and spend a month fighting with his companions for a good place on the rocks as close to the sea as possible. sea catch was fifteen years old, a huge gray fur-seal with almost a mane on his shoulders, and long, wicked dogteeth. when he heaved himself up on his front flippers he stood more than four feet clear of the ground, and his weight, if any one had been bold enough to weigh him, was nearly seven hundred pounds. he was scarred all over with the marks of savage fights, but he was always ready for just one fight more. he would put his head on one side, as though he were afraid to look his enemy in the face; then he would shoot it out like lightning, and when the big teeth were firmly fixed on the other seal's neck, the other seal might get away if he could, but sea catch would not help him. yet sea catch never chased a beaten seal, for that was against the rules of the beach. he only wanted room by the sea for his nursery; but as there were forty or fifty thousand other seals hunting for the same thing each spring, the whistling, bellowing, roaring, and blowing on the beach was something frightful. from a little hill called hutchinson's hill you could look over three and a half miles of ground covered with fighting seals; and the surf was dotted all over with the heads of seals hurrying to land and begin their share of the fighting. they fought in the breakers, they fought in the sand, and they fought on the smooth-worn basalt rocks of the nurseries; for they were just as stupid and unaccommodating as men. their wives never came to the island until late in may or early in june, for they did not care to be torn to pieces; and the young two-, three-, and four-year-old seals who had not begun housekeeping went inland about half a mile through the ranks of the fighters and played about on the sand-dunes in droves and legions, and rubbed off every single green thing that grew. they were called the holluschickie,--the bachelors,--and there were perhaps two or three hundred thousand of them at novastoshnah alone. sea catch had just finished his forty-fifth fight one spring when matkah, his soft, sleek, gentle-eyed wife came up out of the sea, and he caught her by the scruff of the neck and dumped her down on his reservation, saying gruffly: "late, as usual. where _have_ you been?" it was not the fashion for sea catch to eat anything during the four months he stayed on the beaches, and so his temper was generally bad. matkah knew better than to answer back. she looked around and cooed: "how thoughtful of you. you've taken the old place again." "i should think i had," said sea catch. "look at me!" he was scratched and bleeding in twenty places; one eye was almost blind, and his sides were torn to ribbons. "oh, you men, you men!" matkah said, fanning herself with her hind flipper. "why can't you be sensible and settle your places quietly? you look as though you had been fighting with the killer whale." "i haven't been doing anything _but_ fight since the middle of may. the beach is disgracefully crowded this season. i've met at least a hundred seals from lukannon beach, house-hunting. why can't people stay where they belong?" "i've often thought we should be much happier if we hauled out at otter island instead of this crowded place," said matkah. "bah! only the holluschickie go to otter island. if we went there they would say we were afraid. we must preserve appearances, my dear." sea catch sunk his head proudly between his fat shoulders and pretended to go to sleep for a few minutes, but all the time he was keeping a sharp lookout for a fight. now that all the seals and their wives were on the land you could hear their clamor miles out to sea above the loudest gales. at the lowest counting there were over a million seals on the beach,--old seals, mother seals, tiny babies, and holluschickie, fighting, scuffling, bleating, crawling, and playing together,--going down to the sea and coming up from it in gangs and regiments, lying over every foot of ground as far as the eye could reach, and skirmishing about in brigades through the fog. it is nearly always foggy at novastoshnah, except when the sun comes out and makes everything look all pearly and rainbow-colored for a little while. kotick, matkah's baby, was born in the middle of that confusion, and he was all head and shoulders, with pale, watery blue eyes, as tiny seals must be; but there was something about his coat that made his mother look at him very closely. "sea catch," she said, at last, "our baby's going to be white!" "empty clam-shells and dry seaweed!" snorted sea catch. "there never has been such a thing in the world as a white seal." "i can't help that," said matkah; "there's going to be now"; and she sang the low, crooning seal-song that all the mother seals sing to their babies: you mustn't swim till you're six weeks old, or your head will be sunk by your heels; and summer gales and killer whales are bad for baby seals. are bad for baby seals, dear rat, as bad as bad can be; but splash and grow strong, and you can't be wrong, child of the open sea! of course the little fellow did not understand the words at first. he paddled and scrambled about by his mother's side, and learned to scuffle out of the way when his father was fighting with another seal, and the two rolled and roared up and down the slippery rocks. matkah used to go to sea to get things to eat, and the baby was fed only once in two days; but then he ate all he could, and throve upon it. the first thing he did was to crawl inland, and there he met tens of thousands of babies of his own age, and they played together like puppies, went to sleep on the clean sand, and played again. the old people in the nurseries took no notice of them, and the holluschickie kept to their own grounds, so the babies had a beautiful playtime. when matkah came back from her deep-sea fishing she would go straight to their playground and call as a sheep calls for a lamb, and wait until she heard kotick bleat. then she would take the straightest of straight lines in his direction, striking out with her fore flippers and knocking the youngsters head over heels right and left. there were always a few hundred mothers hunting for their children through the playgrounds, and the babies were kept lively; but, as matkah told kotick, "so long as you don't lie in muddy water and get mange; or rub the hard sand into a cut or scratch; and so long as you never go swimming when there is a heavy sea, nothing will hurt you here." little seals can no more swim than little children, but they are unhappy till they learn. the first time that kotick went down to the sea a wave carried him out beyond his depth, and his big head sank and his little hind flippers flew up exactly as his mother had told him in the song, and if the next wave had not thrown him back again he would have drowned. after that he learned to lie in a beach-pool and let the wash of the waves just cover him and lift him up while he paddled, but he always kept his eye open for big waves that might hurt. he was two weeks learning to use his flippers; and all that while he floundered in and out of the water, and coughed and grunted and crawled up the beach and took cat-naps on the sand, and went back again, until at last he found that he truly belonged to the water. then you can imagine the times that he had with his companions, ducking under the rollers; or coming in on top of a comber and landing with a swash and a splutter as the big wave went whirling far up the beach; or standing up on his tail and scratching his head as the old people did; or playing "i'm the king of the castle" on slippery, weedy rocks that just stuck out of the wash. now and then he would see a thin fin, like a big shark's fin, drifting along close to shore, and he knew that that was the killer whale, the grampus, who eats young seals when he can get them; and kotick would head for the beach like an arrow, and the fin would jig off slowly, as if it were looking for nothing at all. late in october the seals began to leave st. paul's for the deep sea, by families and tribes, and there was no more fighting over the nurseries, and the holluschickie played anywhere they liked. "next year," said matkah to kotick, "you will be a holluschickie; but this year you must learn how to catch fish." they set out together across the pacific, and matkah showed kotick how to sleep on his back with his flippers tucked down by his side and his little nose just out of the water. no cradle is so comfortable as the long, rocking swell of the pacific. when kotick felt his skin tingle all over, matkah told him he was learning the "feel of the water," and that tingly, prickly feelings meant bad weather coming, and he must swim hard and get away. "in a little time," she said, "you'll know where to swim to, but just now we'll follow sea pig, the porpoise, for he is very wise." a school of porpoises were ducking and tearing through the water, and little kotick followed them as fast as he could. "how do you know where to go to?" he panted. the leader of the school rolled his white eyes, and ducked under. "my tail tingles, youngster," he said. "that means there's a gale behind me. come along! when you're south of the sticky water [he meant the equator], and your tail tingles, that means there's a gale in front of you and you must head north. come along! the water feels bad here." this was one of very many things that kotick learned, and he was always learning. matkah taught him how to follow the cod and the halibut along the under-sea banks, and wrench the rockling out of his hole among the weeds; how to skirt the wrecks lying a hundred fathoms below water, and dart like a rifle-bullet in at one porthole and out at another as the fishes ran; how to dance on the top of the waves when the lightning was racing all over the sky, and wave his flipper politely to the stumpy-tailed albatross and the man-of-war hawk as they went down the wind; how to jump three or four feet clear of the water, like a dolphin, flippers close to the side and tail curved; to leave the flying-fish alone because they are all bony; to take the shoulder-piece out of a cod at full speed ten fathoms deep; and never to stop and look at a boat or a ship, but particularly a row boat. at the end of six months, what kotick did not know about deep-sea fishing was not worth the knowing, and all that time he never set flipper on dry ground. [illustration: "ten fathoms deep."] one day, however, as he was lying half asleep in the warm water somewhere off the island of juan fernandez, he felt faint and lazy all over, just as human people do when the spring is in their legs, and he remembered the good firm beaches of novastoshnah seven thousand miles away; the games his companions played, the smell of the seaweed, the seal-roar, and the fighting. that very minute he turned north, swimming steadily, and as he went on he met scores of his mates, all bound for the same place, and they said: "greeting, kotick! this year we are all holluschickie, and we can dance the fire-dance in the breakers off lukannon and play on the new grass. but where did you get that coat?" kotick's fur was almost pure white now, and though he felt very proud of it, he only said: "swim quickly! my bones are aching for the land." and so they all came to the beaches where they had been born and heard the old seals, their fathers, fighting in the rolling mist. that night kotick danced the fire-dance with the yearling seals. the sea is full of fire on summer nights all the way down from novastoshnah to lukannon, and each seal leaves a wake like burning oil behind him, and a flaming flash when he jumps, and the waves break in great phosphorescent streaks and swirls. then they went inland to the holluschickie grounds, and rolled up and down in the new wild wheat, and told stories of what they had done while they had been at sea. they talked about the pacific as boys would talk about a wood that they had been nutting in, and if any one had understood them, he could have gone away and made such a chart of that ocean as never was. the threeand four-year-old holluschickie romped down from hutchinson's hill, crying: "out of the way, youngsters! the sea is deep, and you don't know all that's in it yet. wait till you've rounded the horn. hi, you yearling, where did you get that white coat?" "i didn't get it," said kotick; "it grew." and just as he was going to roll the speaker over, a couple of black-haired men with flat red faces came from behind a sand-dune, and kotick, who had never seen a man before, coughed and lowered his head. the holluschickie just bundled off a few yards and sat staring stupidly. the men were no less than kerick booterin, the chief of the seal-hunters on the island, and patalamon, his son. they came from the little village not half a mile from the seal nurseries, and they were deciding what seals they would drive up to the killing-pens (for the seals were driven just like sheep), to be turned into sealskin jackets later on. "ho!" said patalamon. "look! there's a white seal!" kerick booterin turned nearly white under his oil and smoke, for he was an aleut, and aleuts are not clean people. then he began to mutter a prayer. "don't touch him, patalamon. there has never been a white seal since--since i was born. perhaps it is old zaharrof's ghost. he was lost last year in the big gale." "i'm not going near him," said patalamon. "he's unlucky. do you really think he is old zaharrof come back? i owe him for some gulls' eggs." "don't look at him," said kerick. "head off that drove of four-year-olds. the men ought to skin two hundred to-day, but it's the beginning of the season, and they are new to the work. a hundred will do. quick!" patalamon rattled a pair of seal's shoulder-bones in front of a herd of holluschickie and they stopped dead, puffing and blowing. then he stepped near, and the seals began to move, and kerick headed them inland, and they never tried to get back to their companions. hundreds and hundreds of thousands of seals watched them being driven, but they went on playing just the same. kotick was the only one who asked questions, and none of his companions could tell him anything, except that the men always drove seals in that way for six weeks or two months of every year. "i am going to follow," he said, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he shuffled along in the wake of the herd. "the white seal is coming after us," cried patalamon. "that's the first time a seal has ever come to the killing-grounds alone." "hsh! don't look behind you," said kerick. "it _is_ zaharrof's ghost! i must speak to the priest about this." the distance to the killing-grounds was only half a mile, but it took an hour to cover, because if the seals went too fast kerick knew that they would get heated and then their fur would come off in patches when they were skinned. so they went on very slowly, past sea-lion's neck, past webster house, till they came to the salt house just beyond the sight of the seals on the beach. kotick followed, panting and wondering. he thought that he was at the world's end, but the roar of the seal nurseries behind him sounded as loud as the roar of a train in a tunnel. then kerick sat down on the moss and pulled out a heavy pewter watch and let the drove cool off for thirty minutes, and kotick could hear the fog-dew dripping from the brim of his cap. then ten or twelve men, each with an iron-bound club three or four feet long, came up, and kerick pointed out one or two of the drove that were bitten by their companions or were too hot, and the men kicked those aside with their heavy boots made of the skin of a walrus's throat, and then kerick said: "let go!" and then the men clubbed the seals on the head as fast as they could. ten minutes later little kotick did not recognize his friends any more, for their skins were ripped off from the nose to the hind flippers--whipped off and thrown down on the ground in a pile. that was enough for kotick. he turned and galloped (a seal can gallop very swiftly for a short time) back to the sea, his little new mustache bristling with horror. at sea-lion's neck, where the great sea-lions sit on the edge of the surf, he flung himself flipper over-head into the cool water, and rocked there, gasping miserably. "what's here?" said a sea-lion, gruffly; for as a rule the sea-lions keep themselves to themselves. "_scoochnie! ochen scoochnie!_" ("i'm lonesome, very lonesome!"), said kotick. "they're killing _all_ the holluschickie on _all_ the beaches!" the sea-lion turned his head inshore. "nonsense," he said; "your friends are making as much noise as ever. you must have seen old kerick polishing off a drove. he's done that for thirty years." "it's horrible," said kotick, backing water as a wave went over him, and steadying himself with a screw-stroke of his flippers that brought him up all standing within three inches of a jagged edge of rock. "well done for a yearling!" said the sea-lion, who could appreciate good swimming. "i suppose it _is_ rather awful from your way of looking at it; but if you seals will come here year after year, of course the men get to know of it, and unless you can find an island where no men ever come, you will always be driven." "isn't there any such island?" began kotick. "i've followed the _poltoos_ [the halibut] for twenty years, and i can't say i've found it yet. but look here--you seem to have a fondness for talking to your betters; suppose you go to walrus islet and talk to sea vitch. he may know something. don't flounce off like that. it's a six-mile swim, and if i were you i should haul out and take a nap first, little one." kotick thought that that was good advice, so he swam round to his own beach, hauled out, and slept for half an hour, twitching all over, as seals will. then he headed straight for walrus islet, a little low sheet of rocky island almost due northeast from novastoshnah, all ledges of rock and gulls' nests, where the walrus herded by themselves. he landed close to old sea vitch--the big, ugly, bloated, pimpled, fat-necked, long-tusked walrus of the north pacific, who has no manners except when he is asleep--as he was then, with his hind flippers half in and half out of the surf. "wake up!" barked kotick, for the gulls were making a great noise. "hah! ho! hmph! what's that?" said sea vitch, and he struck the next walrus a blow with his tusks and waked him up, and the next struck the next, and so on till they were all awake and staring in every direction but the right one. [illustration: "they were all awake and staring in every direction but the right one."] "hi! it's me," said kotick, bobbing in the surf and looking like a little white slug. "well! may i be----skinned!" said sea vitch, and they all looked at kotick as you can fancy a club full of drowsy old gentlemen would look at a little boy. kotick did not care to hear any more about skinning just then; he had seen enough of it; so he called out: "isn't there any place for seals to go where men don't ever come?" "go and find out," said sea vitch, shutting his eyes. "run away. we're busy here." kotick made his dolphin-jump in the air and shouted as loud as he could: "clam-eater! clam-eater!" he knew that sea vitch never caught a fish in his life, but always rooted for clams and seaweeds; though he pretended to be a very terrible person. naturally the chickies and the gooverooskies and the epatkas, the burgomaster gulls and the kittiwakes and the puffins, who are always looking for a chance to be rude, took up the cry, and--so limmershin told me--for nearly five minutes you could not have heard a gun fired on walrus islet. all the population was yelling and screaming: "clam-eater! _stareek_ [old man]!" while sea vitch rolled from side to side grunting and coughing. "_now_ will you tell?" said kotick, all out of breath. "go and ask sea cow," said sea vitch. "if he is living still, he'll be able to tell you." "how shall i know sea cow when i meet him?" said kotick, sheering off. "he's the only thing in the sea uglier than sea vitch," screamed a burgomaster gull, wheeling under sea vitch's nose. "uglier, and with worse manners! _stareek!_" kotick swam back to novastoshnah, leaving the gulls to scream. there he found that no one sympathized with him in his little attempts to discover a quiet place for the seals. they told him that men had always driven the holluschickie--it was part of the day's work--and that if he did not like to see ugly things he should not have gone to the killing-grounds. but none of the other seals had seen the killing, and that made the difference between him and his friends. besides, kotick was a white seal. "what you must do," said old sea catch, after he had heard his son's adventures, "is to grow up and be a big seal like your father, and have a nursery on the beach, and then they will leave you alone. in another five years you ought to be able to fight for yourself." even gentle matkah, his mother, said: "you will never be able to stop the killing. go and play in the sea, kotick." and kotick went off and danced the fire-dance with a very heavy little heart. that autumn he left the beach as soon as he could, and set off alone because of a notion in his bullet-head. he was going to find sea cow, if there was such a person in the sea, and he was going to find a quiet island with good firm beaches for seals to live on, where men could not get at them. so he explored and explored by himself from the north to the south pacific, swimming as much as three hundred miles in a day and a night. he met with more adventures than can be told, and narrowly escaped being caught by the basking shark, and the spotted shark, and the hammerhead, and he met all the untrustworthy ruffians that loaf up and down the high seas, and the heavy polite fish, and the scarlet-spotted scallops that are moored in one place for hundreds of years, and grow very proud of it; but he never met sea cow, and he never found an island that he could fancy. if the beach was good and hard, with a slope behind it for seals to play on, there was always the smoke of a whaler on the horizon, boiling down blubber, and kotick knew what _that_ meant. or else he could see that seals had once visited the island and been killed off, and kotick knew that where men had come once they would come again. he picked up with an old stumpy-tailed albatross, who told him that kerguelen island was the very place for peace and quiet, and when kotick went down there he was all but smashed to pieces against some wicked black cliffs in a heavy sleet-storm with lightning and thunder. yet as he pulled out against the gale he could see that even there had once been a seal nursery. and it was so in all the other islands that he visited. limmershin gave a long list of them, for he said that kotick spent five seasons exploring, with a four months' rest each year at novastoshnah, where the holluschickie used to make fun of him and his imaginary islands. he went to the gallapagos, a horrid dry place on the equator, where he was nearly baked to death; he went to the georgia islands, the orkneys, emerald island, little nightingale island, gough's island, bouvet's island, the crossets, and even to a little speck of an island south of the cape of good hope. but everywhere the people of the sea told him the same things. seals had come to those islands once upon a time, but men had killed them all off. even when he swam thousands of miles out of the pacific, and got to a place called cape corientes (that was when he was coming back from gough's island), he found a few hundred mangy seals on a rock, and they told him that men came there too. that nearly broke his heart, and he headed round the horn back to his own beaches; and on his way north he hauled out on an island full of green trees, where he found an old, old seal who was dying, and kotick caught fish for him and told him all his sorrows. "now," said kotick, "i am going back to novastoshnah, and if i am driven to the killing-pens with the holluschickie i shall not care." the old seal said: "try once more. i am the last of the lost rookery of masafuera, and in the days when men killed us by the hundred thousand there was a story on the beaches that some day a white seal would come out of the north and lead the seal people to a quiet place. i am old and i shall never live to see that day, but others will. try once more." and kotick curled up his mustache (it was a beauty), and said: "i am the only white seal that has ever been born on the beaches, and i am the only seal, black or white, who ever thought of looking for new islands." that cheered him immensely; and when he came back to novastoshnah that summer, matkah, his mother, begged him to marry and settle down, for he was no longer a holluschick, but a full-grown sea-catch, with a curly white mane on his shoulders, as heavy, as big, and as fierce as his father. "give me another season," he said. "remember, mother, it is always the seventh wave that goes farthest up the beach." curiously enough, there was another seal who thought that she would put off marrying till the next year, and kotick danced the fire-dance with her all down lukannon beach the night before he set off on his last exploration. this time he went westward, because he had fallen on the trail of a great shoal of halibut, and he needed at least one hundred pounds of fish a day to keep him in good condition. he chased them till he was tired, and then he curled himself up and went to sleep on the hollows of the ground-swell that sets in to copper island. he knew the coast perfectly well, so about midnight, when he felt himself gently bumped on a weed bed, he said: "hm, tide 's running strong to-night," and turning over under water opened his eyes slowly and stretched. then he jumped like a cat, for he saw huge things nosing about in the shoal water and browsing on the heavy fringes of the weeds. "by the great combers of magellan!" he said, beneath his mustache. "who in the deep sea are these people?" they were like no walrus, sea-lion, seal, bear, whale, shark, fish, squid, or scallop that kotick had ever seen before. they were between twenty and thirty feet long, and they had no hind flippers, but a shovel-like tail that looked as if it had been whittled out of wet leather. their heads were the most foolish-looking things you ever saw, and they balanced on the ends of their tails in deep water when they weren't grazing, bowing solemnly to one another and waving their front flippers as a fat man waves his arm. "ahem!" said kotick. "good sport, gentlemen?" the big things answered by bowing and waving their flippers like the frog-footman. when they began feeding again kotick saw that their upper lip was split into two pieces, that they could twitch apart about a foot and bring together again with a whole bushel of seaweed between the splits. they tucked the stuff into their mouths and chumped solemnly. "messy style of feeding that," said kotick. they bowed again, and kotick began to lose his temper. "very good," he said. "if you do happen to have an extra joint in your front flipper you needn't show off so. i see you bow gracefully, but i should like to know your names." the split lips moved and twitched, and the glassy green eyes stared; but they did not speak. "well!" said kotick, "you're the only people i've ever met uglier than sea vitch--and with worse manners." then he remembered in a flash what the burgomaster gull had screamed to him when he was a little yearling at walrus islet, and he tumbled backward in the water, for he knew that he had found sea cow at last. [illustration: "he had found sea cow at last."] the sea cows went on schlooping and grazing, and chumping in the weed, and kotick asked them questions in every language that he had picked up in his travels; and the sea people talk nearly as many languages as human beings. but the sea cow did not answer, because sea cow cannot talk. he has only six bones in his neck where he ought to have seven, and they say under the sea that that prevents him from speaking even to his companions; but, as you know, he has an extra joint in his fore flipper, and by waving it up and down and about he makes what answers to a sort of clumsy telegraphic code. by daylight kotick's mane was standing on end and his temper was gone where the dead crabs go. then the sea cow began to travel northward very slowly, stopping to hold absurd bowing councils from time to time, and kotick followed them, saying to himself: "people who are such idiots as these are would have been killed long ago if they hadn't found out some safe island; and what is good enough for the sea cow is good enough for the sea catch. all the same, i wish they'd hurry." it was weary work for kotick. the herd never went more than forty or fifty miles a day, and stopped to feed at night, and kept close to the shore all the time; while kotick swam round them, and over them, and under them, but he could not hurry them up one half-mile. as they went farther north they held a bowing council every few hours, and kotick nearly bit off his mustache with impatience till he saw that they were following up a warm current of water, and then he respected them more. one night they sank through the shiny water--sank like stones--and, for the first time since he had known them, began to swim quickly. kotick followed, and the pace astonished him, for he never dreamed that sea cow was anything of a swimmer. they headed for a cliff by the shore, a cliff that ran down into deep water, and plunged into a dark hole at the foot of it, twenty fathoms under the sea. it was a long, long swim, and kotick badly wanted fresh air before he was out of the dark tunnel they led him through. "my wig!" he said, when he rose, gasping and puffing, into open water at the farther end. "it was a long dive, but it was worth it." the sea cows had separated, and were browsing lazily along the edges of the finest beaches that kotick had ever seen. there were long stretches of smooth worn rock running for miles, exactly fitted to make seal nurseries, and there were playgrounds of hard sand, sloping inland behind them, and there were rollers for seals to dance in, and long grass to roll in, and sand-dunes to climb up and down, and best of all, kotick knew by the feel of the water, which never deceives a true sea catch, that no men had ever come there. the first thing he did was to assure himself that the fishing was good, and then he swam along the beaches and counted up the delightful low sandy islands half hidden in the beautiful rolling fog. away to the northward out to sea ran a line of bars and shoals and rocks that would never let a ship come within six miles of the beach; and between the islands and the mainland was a stretch of deep water that ran up to the perpendicular cliffs, and somewhere below the cliffs was the mouth of the tunnel. "it's novastoshnah over again, but ten times better," said kotick. "sea cow must be wiser than i thought. men can't come down the cliffs, even if there were any men; and the shoals to seaward would knock a ship to splinters. if any place in the sea is safe, this is it." he began to think of the seal he had left behind him, but though he was in a hurry to go back to novastoshnah, he thoroughly explored the new country, so that he would be able to answer all questions. then he dived and made sure of the mouth of the tunnel, and raced through to the southward. no one but a sea cow or a seal would have dreamed of there being such a place, and when he looked back at the cliffs even kotick could hardly believe that he had been under them. he was six days going home, though he was not swimming slowly; and when he hauled out just above sea-lion's neck the first person he met was the seal who had been waiting for him, and she saw by the look in his eyes that he had found his island at last. but the holluschickie and sea catch, his father, and all the other seals, laughed at him when he told them what he had discovered, and a young seal about his own age said: "this is all very well, kotick, but you can't come from no one knows where and order us off like this. remember we've been fighting for our nurseries, and that's a thing you never did. you preferred prowling about in the sea." the other seals laughed at this, and the young seal began twisting his head from side to side. he had just married that year, and was making a great fuss about it. "i've no nursery to fight for," said kotick. "i want only to show you all a place where you will be safe. what's the use of fighting?" "oh, if you're trying to back out, of course i've no more to say," said the young seal, with an ugly chuckle. "will you come with me if i win?" said kotick; and a green light came into his eyes, for he was very angry at having to fight at all. "very good," said the young seal, carelessly. "_if_ you win, i'll come." he had no time to change his mind, for kotick's head darted out and his teeth sunk in the blubber of the young seal's neck. then he threw himself back on his haunches and hauled his enemy down the beach, shook him, and knocked him over. then kotick roared to the seals: "i've done my best for you these five seasons past. i've found you the island where you'll be safe, but unless your heads are dragged off your silly necks you won't believe. i'm going to teach you now. look out for yourselves!" limmershin told me that never in his life--and limmershin sees ten thousand big seals fighting every year--never in all his little life did he see anything like kotick's charge into the nurseries. he flung himself at the biggest sea-catch he could find, caught him by the throat, choked him and bumped him and banged him till he grunted for mercy, and then threw him aside and attacked the next. you see, kotick had never fasted for four months as the big seals did every year, and his deep-sea swimming-trips kept him in perfect condition, and, best of all, he had never fought before. his curly white mane stood up with rage, and his eyes flamed, and his big dogteeth glistened, and he was splendid to look at. old sea catch, his father, saw him tearing past, hauling the grizzled old seals about as though they had been halibut, and upsetting the young bachelors in all directions; and sea catch gave one roar and shouted: "he may be a fool, but he is the best fighter on the beaches. don't tackle your father, my son! he's with you!" kotick roared in answer, and old sea catch waddled in, his mustache on end, blowing like a locomotive, while matkah and the seal that was going to marry kotick cowered down and admired their men-folk. it was a gorgeous fight, for the two fought as long as there was a seal that dared lift up his head, and then they paraded grandly up and down the beach side by side, bellowing. at night, just as the northern lights were winking and flashing through the fog, kotick climbed a bare rock and looked down on the scattered nurseries and the torn and bleeding seals. "now," he said, "i've taught you your lesson." "my wig!" said old sea catch, boosting himself up stiffly, for he was fearfully mauled. "the killer whale himself could not have cut them up worse. son, i'm proud of you, and what's more, _i'll_ come with you to your island--if there is such a place." "hear you, fat pigs of the sea! who comes with me to the sea cow's tunnel? answer, or i shall teach you again," roared kotick. there was a murmur like the ripple of the tide all up and down the beaches. "we will come," said thousands of tired voices. "we will follow kotick, the white seal." then kotick dropped his head between his shoulders and shut his eyes proudly. he was not a white seal any more, but red from head to tail. all the same he would have scorned to look at or touch one of his wounds. a week later he and his army (nearly ten thousand holluschickie and old seals) went away north to the sea cow's tunnel, kotick leading them, and the seals that stayed at novastoshnah called them idiots. but next spring when they all met off the fishing-banks of the pacific, kotick's seals told such tales of the new beaches beyond sea cow's tunnel that more and more seals left novastoshnah. of course it was not all done at once, for the seals need a long time to turn things over in their minds, but year by year more seals went away from novastoshnah, and lukannon, and the other nurseries, to the quiet, sheltered beaches where kotick sits all the summer through, getting bigger and fatter and stronger each year, while the holluschickie play round him, in that sea where no man comes. lukannon this is the great deep-sea song that all the st. paul seals sing when they are heading back to their beaches in the summer. it is a sort of very sad seal national anthem. i met my mates in the morning (and oh, but i am old!) where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled; i heard them lift the chorus that dropped the breakers' song- the beaches of lukannon--two million voices strong! _the song of pleasant stations beside the salt lagoons, the song of blowing squadrons that shuffled down the dunes, the song of midnight dances that churned the sea to flame- the beaches of lukannon--before the sealers came!_ i met my mates in the morning (i'll never meet them more!); they came and went in legions that darkened all the shore. and through the foam-flecked offing as far as voice could reach we hailed the landing-parties and we sang them up the beach. _the beaches of lukannon--the winter-wheat so tall- the dripping, crinkled lichens, and the sea-fog drenching all! the platforms of our playground, all shining smooth and worn! the beaches of lukannon--the home where we were born!_ i meet my mates in the morning, a broken, scattered band. men shoot us in the water and club us on the land; men drive us to the salt house like silly sheep and tame, and still we sing lukannon--before the sealers came. _wheel down, wheel down to southward; oh, gooverooska go! and tell the deep-sea viceroys the story of our woe; ere, empty as the shark's egg the tempest flings ashore, the beaches of lukannon shall know their sons no more!_ "rikki-tikki-tavi" at the hole where he went in red-eye called to wrinkle-skin. hear what little red-eye saith: "nag, come up and dance with death!" eye to eye and head to head, (_keep the measure, nag._) this shall end when one is dead; (_at thy pleasure, nag._) turn for turn and twist for twist- (_run and hide thee, nag._) hah! the hooded death has missed! (_woe betide thee, nag!_) [illustration] "rikki-tikki-tavi" this is the story of the great war that rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in segowlee cantonment. darzee, the tailor-bird, helped him, and chuchundra, the muskrat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice; but rikki-tikki did the real fighting. he was a mongoose, rather like a little cat in his fur and his tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and his habits. his eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink; he could scratch himself anywhere he pleased, with any leg, front or back, that he chose to use; he could fluff up his tail till it looked like a bottle-brush, and his war-cry as he scuttled through the long grass, was: "_rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!_" one day, a high summer flood washed him out of the burrow where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him, kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch. he found a little wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it till he lost his senses. when he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was saying: "here's a dead mongoose. let's have a funeral." "no," said his mother; "let's take him in and dry him. perhaps he isn't really dead." they took him into the house, and a big man picked him up between his finger and thumb and said he was not dead but half choked; so they wrapped him in cotton-wool, and warmed him, and he opened his eyes and sneezed. "now," said the big man (he was an englishman who had just moved into the bungalow); "don't frighten him, and we'll see what he'll do." it is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity. the motto of all the mongoose family is, "run and find out"; and rikki-tikki was a true mongoose. he looked at the cotton-wool, decided that it was not good to eat, ran all round the table, sat up and put his fur in order, scratched himself, and jumped on the small boy's shoulder. "don't be frightened, teddy," said his father. "that's his way of making friends." "ouch! he's tickling under my chin," said teddy. [illustration: "rikki-tikki looked down between the boy's collar and neck."] rikki-tikki looked down between the boy's collar and neck, snuffed at his ear, and climbed down to the floor, where he sat rubbing his nose. "good gracious," said teddy's mother, "and that's a wild creature! i suppose he's so tame because we've been kind to him." "all mongooses are like that," said her husband. "if teddy doesn't pick him up by the tail, or try to put him in a cage, he'll run in and out of the house all day long. let's give him something to eat." they gave him a little piece of raw meat. rikki-tikki liked it immensely, and when it was finished he went out into the veranda and sat in the sunshine and fluffed up his fur to make it dry to the roots. then he felt better. "there are more things to find out about in this house," he said to himself, "than all my family could find out in all their lives. i shall certainly stay and find out." [illustration: "he put his nose into the ink."] he spent all that day roaming over the house. he nearly drowned himself in the bath-tubs, put his nose into the ink on a writing-table, and burned it on the end of the big man's cigar, for he climbed up in the big man's lap to see how writing was done. at nightfall he ran into teddy's nursery to watch how kerosene lamps were lighted, and when teddy went to bed rikki-tikki climbed up too; but he was a restless companion, because he had to get up and attend to every noise all through the night, and find out what made it. teddy's mother and father came in, the last thing, to look at their boy, and rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow. "i don't like that," said teddy's mother; "he may bite the child." "he'll do no such thing," said the father. "teddy's safer with that little beast than if he had a bloodhound to watch him. if a snake came into the nursery now--" [illustration: "rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow."] but teddy's mother wouldn't think of anything so awful. early in the morning rikki-tikki came to early breakfast in the veranda riding on teddy's shoulder, and they gave him banana and some boiled egg; and he sat on all their laps one after the other, because every well-brought-up mongoose always hopes to be a house-mongoose some day and have rooms to run about in, and rikki-tikki's mother (she used to live in the general's house at segowlee) had carefully told rikki what to do if ever he came across white men. [illustration: "he came to breakfast riding on teddy's shoulder."] then rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen. it was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes as big as summer-houses of marshal niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of bamboos, and thickets of high grass. rikki-tikki licked his lips. "this is a splendid hunting-ground," he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing here and there till he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush. it was darzee, the tailor-bird, and his wife. they had made a beautiful nest by pulling two big leaves together and stitching them up the edges with fibers, and had filled the hollow with cotton and downy fluff. the nest swayed to and fro, as they sat on the rim and cried. "what is the matter?" asked rikki-tikki. [illustration: "'we are very miserable,' said darzee."] "we are very miserable," said darzee. "one of our babies fell out of the nest yesterday and nag ate him." "h'm!" said rikki-tikki," that is very sad--but i am a stranger here. who is nag?" darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss--a horrid cold sound that made rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail. when he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion-tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at rikki-tikki with the wicked snake's eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of. "who is nag?" he said, "_i_ am nag. the great god brahm put his mark upon all our people when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off brahm as he slept. look, and be afraid!" [illustration: "'i am nag,' said the cobra: 'look, and be afraid!' but at the bottom of his cold heart he was afraid."] he spread out his hood more than ever, and rikki-tikki saw the spectacle-mark on the back of it that looks exactly like the eye part of a hook-and-eye fastening. he was afraid for the minute; but it is impossible for a mongoose to stay frightened for any length of time, and though rikki-tikki had never met a live cobra before, his mother had fed him on dead ones, and he knew that all a grown mongoose's business in life was to fight and eat snakes. nag knew that too, and at the bottom of his cold heart he was afraid. "well," said rikki-tikki, and his tail began to fluff up again, "marks or no marks, do you think it is right for you to eat fledglings out of a nest?" nag was thinking to himself, and watching the least little movement in the grass behind rikki-tikki. he knew that mongooses in the garden meant death sooner or later for him and his family; but he wanted to get rikki-tikki off his guard. so he dropped his head a little, and put it on one side. "let us talk," he said. "you eat eggs. why should not i eat birds?" "behind you! look behind you!" sang darzee. rikki-tikki knew better than to waste time in staring. he jumped up in the air as high as he could go, and just under him whizzed by the head of nagaina, nag's wicked wife. she had crept up behind him as he was talking, to make an end of him; and he heard her savage hiss as the stroke missed. he came down almost across her back, and if he had been an old mongoose he would have known that then was the time to break her back with one bite; but he was afraid of the terrible lashing return-stroke of the cobra. he bit, indeed, but did not bite long enough, and he jumped clear of the whisking tail, leaving nagaina torn and angry. [illustration: "he jumped up in the air, and just under him whizzed by the head of nagaina."] "wicked, wicked darzee!" said nag, lashing up as high as he could reach toward the nest in the thorn-bush; but darzee had built it out of reach of snakes, and it only swayed to and fro. rikki-tikki felt his eyes growing red and hot (when a mongoose's eyes grow red, he is angry), and he sat back on his tail and hind legs like a little kangaroo, and looked all around him, and chattered with rage. but nag and nagaina had disappeared into the grass. when a snake misses its stroke, it never says anything or gives any sign of what it means to do next. rikki-tikki did not care to follow them, for he did not feel sure that he could manage two snakes at once. so he trotted off to the gravel path near the house, and sat down to think. it was a serious matter for him. if you read the old books of natural history, you will find they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. that is not true. the victory is only a matter of quickness of eye and quickness of foot,--snake's blow against mongoose's jump,--and as no eye can follow the motion of a snake's head when it strikes, that makes things much more wonderful than any magic herb. rikki-tikki knew he was a young mongoose, and it made him all the more pleased to think that he had managed to escape a blow from behind. it gave him confidence in himself, and when teddy came running down the path, rikki-tikki was ready to be petted. but just as teddy was stooping, something flinched a little in the dust, and a tiny voice said: "be careful. i am death!" it was karait, the dusty brown snakeling that lies for choice on the dusty earth; and his bite is as dangerous as the cobra's. but he is so small that nobody thinks of him, and so he does the more harm to people. rikki-tikki's eyes grew red again, and he danced up to karait with the peculiar rocking, swaying motion that he had inherited from his family. it looks very funny, but it is so perfectly balanced a gait that you can fly off from it at any angle you please; and in dealing with snakes this is an advantage. if rikki-tikki had only known, he was doing a much more dangerous thing than fighting nag, for karait is so small, and can turn so quickly, that unless rikki bit him close to the back of the head, he would get the return-stroke in his eye or lip. but rikki did not know: his eyes were all red, and he rocked back and forth, looking for a good place to hold. karait struck out. rikki jumped sideways and tried to run in, but the wicked little dusty gray head lashed within a fraction of his shoulder, and he had to jump over the body, and the head followed his heels close. teddy shouted to the house: "oh, look here! our mongoose is killing a snake"; and rikki-tikki heard a scream from teddy's mother. his father ran out with a stick, but by the time he came up, karait had lunged out once too far, and rikki-tikki had sprung, jumped on the snake's back, dropped his head far between his fore legs, bitten as high up the back as he could get hold, and rolled away. that bite paralyzed karait, and rikki-tikki was just going to eat him up from the tail, after the custom of his family at dinner, when he remembered that a full meal makes a slow mongoose, and if he wanted all his strength and quickness ready, he must keep himself thin. he went away for a dust-bath under the castor-oil bushes, while teddy's father beat the dead karait. "what is the use of that?" thought rikki-tikki. "i have settled it all"; and then teddy's mother picked him up from the dust and hugged him, crying that he had saved teddy from death, and teddy's father said that he was a providence, and teddy looked on with big scared eyes. rikki-tikki was rather amused at all the fuss, which, of course, he did not understand. teddy's mother might just as well have petted teddy for playing in the dust. rikki was thoroughly enjoying himself. that night, at dinner, walking to and fro among the wine-glasses on the table, he could have stuffed himself three times over with nice things; but he remembered nag and nagaina, and though it was very pleasant to be patted and petted by teddy's mother, and to sit on teddy's shoulder, his eyes would get red from time to time, and he would go off into his long war-cry of "_rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!_" teddy carried him off to bed, and insisted on rikki-tikki sleeping under his chin. rikki-tikki was too well bred to bite or scratch, but as soon as teddy was asleep he went off for his nightly walk round the house, and in the dark he ran up against chuchundra, the muskrat, creeping round by the wall. chuchundra is a broken-hearted little beast. he whimpers and cheeps all the night, trying to make up his mind to run into the middle of the room, but he never gets there. [illustration: "in the dark he ran up against chuchundra, the muskrat."] "don't kill me," said chuchundra, almost weeping. "rikki-tikki, don't kill me." "do you think a snake-killer kills muskrats?" said rikki-tikki scornfully. "those who kill snakes get killed by snakes," said chuchundra, more sorrowfully than ever. "and how am i to be sure that nag won't mistake me for you some dark night?" "there's not the least danger," said rikki-tikki; "but nag is in the garden, and i know you don't go there." "my cousin chua, the rat, told me--" said chuchundra, and then he stopped. "told you what?" "h'sh! nag is everywhere, rikki-tikki. you should have talked to chua in the garden." "i didn't--so you must tell me. quick, chuchundra, or i'll bite you!" chuchundra sat down and cried till the tears rolled off his whiskers. "i am a very poor man," he sobbed. "i never had spirit enough to run out into the middle of the room. h'sh! i mustn't tell you anything. can't you _hear_, rikki-tikki?" rikki-tikki listened. the house was as still as still, but he thought he could just catch the faintest _scratch-scratch_ in the world,--a noise as faint as that of a wasp walking on a window-pane,--the dry scratch of a snake's scales on brickwork. "that's nag or nagaina," he said to himself; "and he is crawling into the bath-room sluice. you're right, chuchundra; i should have talked to chua." he stole off to teddy's bath-room, but there was nothing there, and then to teddy's mother's bath-room. at the bottom of the smooth plaster wall there was a brick pulled out to make a sluice for the bath-water, and as rikki-tikki stole in by the masonry curb where the bath is put, he heard nag and nagaina whispering together outside in the moonlight. "when the house is emptied of people," said nagaina to her husband, "_he_ will have to go away, and then the garden will be our own again. go in quietly, and remember that the big man who killed karait is the first one to bite. then come out and tell me, and we will hunt for rikki-tikki together." "but are you sure that there is anything to be gained by killing the people?" said nag. "everything. when there were no people in the bungalow, did we have any mongoose in the garden? so long as the bungalow is empty, we are king and queen of the garden; and remember that as soon as our eggs in the melon-bed hatch (as they may to-morrow), our children will need room and quiet." "i had not thought of that," said nag. "i will go, but there is no need that we should hunt for rikki-tikki afterward. i will kill the big man and his wife, and the child if i can, and come away quietly. then the bungalow will be empty, and rikki-tikki will go." rikki-tikki tingled all over with rage and hatred at this, and then nag's head came through the sluice, and his five feet of cold body followed it. angry as he was, rikki-tikki was very frightened as he saw the size of the big cobra. nag coiled himself up, raised his head, and looked into the bath-room in the dark, and rikki could see his eyes glitter. "now, if i kill him here, nagaina will know; and if i fight him on the open floor, the odds are in his favor. what am i to do?" said rikki-tikki-tavi. nag waved to and fro, and then rikki-tikki heard him drinking from the biggest water-jar that was used to fill the bath. "that is good," said the snake. "now, when karait was killed, the big man had a stick. he may have that stick still, but when he comes in to bathe in the morning he will not have a stick. i shall wait here till he comes. nagaina--do you hear me?--i shall wait here in the cool till daytime." there was no answer from outside, so rikki-tikki knew nagaina had gone away. nag coiled himself down, coil by coil, round the bulge at the bottom of the water-jar, and rikki-tikki stayed still as death. after an hour he began to move, muscle by muscle, toward the jar. nag was asleep, and rikki-tikki looked at his big back, wondering which would be the best place for a good hold. "if i don't break his back at the first jump," said rikki, "he can still fight; and if he fights--o rikki!" he looked at the thickness of the neck below the hood, but that was too much for him; and a bite near the tail would only make nag savage. "it must be the head," he said at last: "the head above the hood; and, when i am once there, i must not let go." then he jumped. the head was lying a little clear of the water-jar, under the curve of it; and, as his teeth met, rikki braced his back against the bulge of the red earthenware to hold down the head. this gave him just one second's purchase, and he made the most of it. then he was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog--to and fro on the floor, up and down, and round in great circles; but his eyes were red, and he held on as the body cartwhipped over the floor, upsetting the tin dipper and the soap-dish and the flesh-brush, and banged against the tin side of the bath. as he held he closed his jaws tighter and tighter, for he made sure he would be banged to death, and, for the honor of his family, he preferred to be found with his teeth locked. he was dizzy, aching, and felt shaken to pieces when something went off like a thunderclap just behind him; a hot wind knocked him senseless and red fire singed his fur. the big man had been wakened by the noise, and had fired both barrels of a shot-gun into nag just behind the hood. [illustration: "then rikki-tikki was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog."] rikki-tikki held on with his eyes shut, for now he was quite sure he was dead; but the head did not move, and the big man picked him up and said: "it's the mongoose again, alice; the little chap has saved _our_ lives now." then teddy's mother came in with a very white face, and saw what was left of nag, and rikki-tikki dragged himself to teddy's bedroom and spent half the rest of the night shaking himself tenderly to find out whether he really was broken into forty pieces, as he fancied. when morning came he was very stiff, but well pleased with his doings. "now i have nagaina to settle with, and she will be worse than five nags, and there's no knowing when the eggs she spoke of will hatch. goodness! i must go and see darzee," he said. without waiting for breakfast, rikki-tikki ran to the thorn-bush where darzee was singing a song of triumph at the top of his voice. the news of nag's death was all over the garden, for the sweeper had thrown the body on the rubbish-heap. "oh, you stupid tuft of feathers!" said rikki-tikki, angrily. "is this the time to sing?" "nag is dead--is dead--is dead!" sang darzee. "the valiant rikki-tikki caught him by the head and held fast. the big man brought the bang-stick and nag fell in two pieces! he will never eat my babies again." "all that's true enough; but where's nagaina?" said rikki-tikki, looking carefully round him. "nagaina came to the bath-room sluice and called for nag," darzee went on; "and nag came out on the end of a stick--the sweeper picked him up on the end of a stick and threw him upon the rubbish-heap. let us sing about the great, the red-eyed rikki-tikki!" and darzee filled his throat and sang. "if i could get up to your nest, i'd roll all your babies out!" said rikki-tikki. "you don't know when to do the right thing at the right time. you're safe enough in your nest there, but it's war for me down here. stop singing a minute, darzee." "for the great, the beautiful rikki-tikki's sake i will stop," said darzee. "what is it, o killer of the terrible nag!" "where is nagaina, for the third time?" "on the rubbish-heap by the stables, mourning for nag. great is rikki-tikki with the white teeth." "bother my white teeth! have you ever heard where she keeps her eggs?" "in the melon-bed, on the end nearest the wall, where the sun strikes nearly all day. she had them there weeks ago." "and you never thought it worth while to tell me? the end nearest the wall, you said?" "rikki-tikki, you are not going to eat her eggs?" "not eat exactly; no. darzee, if you have a grain of sense you will fly off to the stables and pretend that your wing is broken, and let nagaina chase you away to this bush? i must get to the melon-bed, and if i went there now she'd see me." darzee was a feather-brained little fellow who could never hold more than one idea at a time in his head; and just because he knew that nagaina's children were born in eggs like his own, he didn't think at first that it was fair to kill them. but his wife was a sensible bird, and she knew that cobra's eggs meant young cobras later on; so she flew off from the nest, and left darzee to keep the babies warm, and continue his song about the death of nag. darzee was very like a man in some ways. she fluttered in front of nagaina by the rubbish-heap, and cried out, "oh, my wing is broken! the boy in the house threw a stone at me and broke it." then she fluttered more desperately than ever. [illustration: darzee's wife pretends to have broken a wing.] nagaina lifted up her head and hissed, "you warned rikki-tikki when i would have killed him. indeed and truly, you've chosen a bad place to be lame in." and she moved toward darzee's wife, slipping along over the dust. "the boy broke it with a stone!" shrieked darzee's wife. "well! it may be some consolation to you when you're dead to know that i shall settle accounts with the boy. my husband lies on the rubbish-heap this morning, but before night the boy in the house will lie very still. what is the use of running away? i am sure to catch you. little fool, look at me!" darzee's wife knew better than to do _that_, for a bird who looks at a snake's eyes gets so frightened that she cannot move. darzee's wife fluttered on, piping sorrowfully, and never leaving the ground, and nagaina quickened her pace. rikki-tikki heard them going up the path from the stables, and he raced for the end of the melon-patch near the wall. there, in the warm litter about the melons, very cunningly hidden, he found twenty-five eggs, about the size of a bantam's eggs, but with whitish skin instead of shell. "i was not a day too soon," he said; for he could see the baby cobras curled up inside the skin, and he knew that the minute they were hatched they could each kill a man or a mongoose. he bit off the tops of the eggs as fast as he could, taking care to crush the young cobras, and turned over the litter from time to time to see whether he had missed any. at last there were only three eggs left, and rikki-tikki began to chuckle to himself, when he heard darzee's wife screaming: "rikki-tikki, i led nagaina toward the house, and she has gone into the veranda, and--oh, come quickly--she means killing!" rikki-tikki smashed two eggs, and tumbled backward down the melon-bed with the third egg in his mouth, and scuttled to the veranda as hard as he could put foot to the ground. teddy and his mother and father were there at early breakfast; but rikki-tikki saw that they were not eating anything. they sat stone-still, and their faces were white. nagaina was coiled up on the matting by teddy's chair, within easy striking distance of teddy's bare leg, and she was swaying to and fro singing a song of triumph. "son of the big man that killed nag," she hissed, "stay still. i am not ready yet. wait a little. keep very still, all you three. if you move i strike, and if you do not move i strike. oh, foolish people, who killed my nag!" teddy's eyes were fixed on his father, and all his father could do was to whisper, "sit still, teddy. you mustn't move. teddy, keep still." then rikki-tikki came up and cried: "turn round, nagaina; turn and fight!" "all in good time," said she, without moving her eyes. "i will settle my account with _you_ presently. look at your friends, rikki-tikki. they are still and white; they are afraid. they dare not move, and if you come a step nearer i strike." "look at your eggs," said rikki-tikki, "in the melon-bed near the wall. go and look, nagaina." the big snake turned half round, and saw the egg on the veranda. "ah-h! give it to me," she said. rikki-tikki put his paws one on each side of the egg, and his eyes were blood-red. "what price for a snake's egg? for a young cobra? for a young king-cobra? for the last--the very last of the brood? the ants are eating all the others down by the melon-bed." nagaina spun clear round, forgetting everything for the sake of the one egg; and rikki-tikki saw teddy's father shoot out a big hand, catch teddy by the shoulder, and drag him across the little table with the tea-cups, safe and out of reach of nagaina. "tricked! tricked! tricked! _rikk-tck-tck!_" chuckled rikki-tikki. "the boy is safe, and it was i--i--i that caught nag by the hood last night in the bath-room." then he began to jump up and down, all four feet together, his head close to the floor. "he threw me to and fro, but he could not shake me off. he was dead before the big man blew him in two. i did it. _rikki-tikki-tck-tck!_ come then, nagaina. come and fight with me. you shall not be a widow long." nagaina saw that she had lost her chance of killing teddy, and the egg lay between rikki-tikki's paws. "give me the egg, rikki-tikki. give me the last of my eggs, and i will go away and never come back," she said, lowering her hood. "yes, you will go away, and you will never come back; for you will go to the rubbish-heap with nag. fight, widow! the big man has gone for his gun! fight!" rikki-tikki was bounding all round nagaina, keeping just out of reach of her stroke, his little eyes like hot coals. nagaina gathered herself together, and flung out at him. rikki-tikki jumped up and backward. again and again and again she struck, and each time her head came with a whack on the matting of the veranda and she gathered herself together like a watch-spring. then rikki-tikki danced in a circle to get behind her, and nagaina spun round to keep her head to his head, so that the rustle of her tail on the matting sounded like dry leaves blown along by the wind. he had forgotten the egg. it still lay on the veranda, and nagaina came nearer and nearer to it, till at last, while rikki-tikki was drawing breath, she caught it in her mouth, turned to the veranda steps, and flew like an arrow down the path, with rikki-tikki behind her. when the cobra runs for her life, she goes like a whiplash flicked across a horse's neck. [illustration: "nagaina flew down the path, with rikki-tikki behind her."] rikki-tikki knew that he must catch her, or all the trouble would begin again. she headed straight for the long grass by the thorn-bush, and as he was running rikki-tikki heard darzee still singing his foolish little song of triumph. but darzee's wife was wiser. she flew off her nest as nagaina came along, and flapped her wings about nagaina's head. if darzee had helped they might have turned her; but nagaina only lowered her hood and went on. still, the instant's delay brought rikki-tikki up to her, and as she plunged into the rat-hole where she and nag used to live, his little white teeth were clenched on her tail, and he went down with her--and very few mongooses, however wise and old they may be, care to follow a cobra into its hole. it was dark in the hole; and rikki-tikki never knew when it might open out and give nagaina room to turn and strike at him. he held on savagely, and struck out his feet to act as brakes on the dark slope of the hot, moist earth. then the grass by the mouth of the hole stopped waving, and darzee said: "it is all over with rikki-tikki! we must sing his death-song. valiant rikki-tikki is dead! for nagaina will surely kill him underground." so he sang a very mournful song that he made up all on the spur of the minute, and just as he got to the most touching part the grass quivered again, and rikki-tikki, covered with dirt, dragged himself out of the hole leg by leg, licking his whiskers. darzee stopped with a little shout. rikki-tikki shook some of the dust out of his fur and sneezed. "it is all over," he said. "the widow will never come out again." and the red ants that live between the grass stems heard him, and began to troop down one after another to see if he had spoken the truth. [illustration: "it is all over."] rikki-tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was--slept and slept till it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day's work. "now," he said, when he awoke, "i will go back to the house. tell the coppersmith, darzee, and he will tell the garden that nagaina is dead." the coppersmith is a bird who makes a noise exactly like the beating of a little hammer on a copper pot; and the reason he is always making it is because he is the town-crier to every indian garden, and tells all the news to everybody who cares to listen. as rikki-tikki went up the path, he heard his "attention" notes like a tiny dinner-gong; and then the steady "_ding-dong-tock!_ nag is dead--_dong!_ nagaina is dead! _ding-dong-tock!_" that set all the birds in the garden singing, and the frogs croaking; for nag and nagaina used to eat frogs as well as little birds. when rikki got to the house, teddy and teddy's mother (she looked very white still, for she had been fainting) and teddy's father came out and almost cried over him; and that night he ate all that was given him till he could eat no more, and went to bed on teddy's shoulder, where teddy's mother saw him when she came to look late at night. "he saved our lives and teddy's life," she said to her husband. "just think, he saved all our lives." rikki-tikki woke up with a jump, for all the mongooses are light sleepers. "oh, it's you," said he. "what are you bothering for? all the cobras are dead; and if they weren't, i'm here." rikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself; but he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, till never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls. darzee's chaunt (sung in honor of rikki-tikki-tavi) singer and tailor am i- doubled the joys that i know- proud of my lilt through the sky, proud of the house that i sew- over and under, so weave i my music--so weave i the house that i sew. sing to your fledglings again, mother, oh lift up your head! evil that plagued us is slain, death in the garden lies dead. terror that hid in the roses is impotent--flung on the dung-hill and dead! who hath delivered us, who? tell me his nest and his name. rikki, the valiant, the true, tikki, with eyeballs of flame. rik-tikki-tikki, the ivory-fanged, the hunter with eyeballs of flame. give him the thanks of the birds, bowing with tail-feathers spread! praise him with nightingale words- nay, i will praise him instead. hear! i will sing you the praise of the bottle-tailed rikki, with eyeballs of red! (_here rikki-tikki interrupted, and the rest of the song is lost._) toomai of the elephants i will remember what i was, i am sick of rope and chain- i will remember my old strength and all my forest affairs. i will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugar-cane, i will go out to my own kind, and the wood-folk in their lairs. i will go out until the day, until the morning break, out to the winds' untainted kiss, the waters' clean caress: i will forget my ankle-ring and snap my picket-stake. i will revisit my lost loves, and playmates masterless! [illustration] toomai of the elephants kala nag, which means black snake, had served the indian government in every way that an elephant could serve it for forty-seven years, and as he was fully twenty years old when he was caught, that makes him nearly seventy--a ripe age for an elephant. he remembered pushing, with a big leather pad on his forehead, at a gun stuck in deep mud, and that was before the afghan war of 1842, and he had not then come to his full strength. his mother, radha pyari,--radha the darling,--who had been caught in the same drive with kala nag, told him, before his little milk tusks had dropped out, that elephants who were afraid always got hurt: and kala nag knew that that advice was good, for the first time that he saw a shell burst he backed, screaming, into a stand of piled rifles, and the bayonets pricked him in all his softest places. so, before he was twenty-five, he gave up being afraid, and so he was the best-loved and the best-looked-after elephant in the service of the government of india. he had carried tents, twelve hundred pounds' weight of tents, on the march in upper india: he had been hoisted into a ship at the end of a steam-crane and taken for days across the water, and made to carry a mortar on his back in a strange and rocky country very far from india, and had seen the emperor theodore lying dead in magdala, and had come back again in the steamer entitled, so the soldiers said, to the abyssinian war medal. he had seen his fellow-elephants die of cold and epilepsy and starvation and sunstroke up at a place called ali musjid, ten years later; and afterward he had been sent down thousands of miles south to haul and pile big baulks of teak in the timber-yards at moulmein. there he had half killed an insubordinate young elephant who was shirking his fair share of the work. [illustration: "kala nag was the best-loved elephant in the service."] after that he was taken off timber-hauling, and employed, with a few score other elephants who were trained to the business, in helping to catch wild elephants among the garo hills. elephants are very strictly preserved by the indian government. there is one whole department which does nothing else but hunt them, and catch them, and break them in, and send them up and down the country as they are needed for work. kala nag stood ten fair feet at the shoulders, and his tusks had been cut off short at five feet, and bound round the ends, to prevent them splitting, with bands of copper; but he could do more with those stumps than any untrained elephant could do with the real sharpened ones. when, after weeks and weeks of cautious driving of scattered elephants across the hills, the forty or fifty wild monsters were driven into the last stockade, and the big drop-gate, made of tree-trunks lashed together, jarred down behind them, kala nag, at the word of command, would go into that flaring, trumpeting pandemonium (generally at night, when the flicker of the torches made it difficult to judge distances), and, picking out the biggest and wildest tusker of the mob, would hammer him and hustle him into quiet while the men on the backs of the other elephants roped and tied the smaller ones. there was nothing in the way of fighting that kala nag, the old wise black snake, did not know, for he had stood up more than once in his time to the charge of the wounded tiger, and, curling up his soft trunk to be out of harm's way, had knocked the springing brute sideways in mid-air with a quick sickle-cut of his head, that he had invented all by himself; had knocked him over, and kneeled upon him with his huge knees till the life went out with a gasp and a howl, and there was only a fluffy striped thing on the ground for kala nag to pull by the tail. "yes," said big toomai, his driver, the son of black toomai who had taken him to abyssinia, and grandson of toomai of the elephants who had seen him caught, "there is nothing that the black snake fears except me. he has seen three generations of us feed him and groom him, and he will live to see four." "he is afraid of _me_ also," said little toomai, standing up to his full height of four feet, with only one rag upon him. he was ten years old, the eldest son of big toomai, and, according to custom, he would take his father's place on kala nag's neck when he grew up, and would handle the heavy iron _ankus_, the elephant-goad that had been worn smooth by his father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather. he knew what he was talking of; for he had been born under kala nag's shadow, had played with the end of his trunk before he could walk, had taken him down to water as soon as he could walk, and kala nag would no more have dreamed of disobeying his shrill little orders than he would have dreamed of killing him on that day when big toomai carried the little brown baby under kala nag's tusks, and told him to salute his master that was to be. [illustration: "'he is afraid of me,' said little toomai, and he made kala nag lift up his feet one after the other."] "yes," said little toomai, "he is afraid of _me_," and he took long strides up to kala nag, called him a fat old pig, and made him lift up his feet one after the other. "wah!" said little toomai, "thou art a big elephant," and he wagged his fluffy head, quoting his father. "the government may pay for elephants, but they belong to us mahouts. when thou art old, kala nag, there will come some rich rajah, and he will buy thee from the government, on account of thy size and thy manners, and then thou wilt have nothing to do but to carry gold earrings in thy ears, and a gold howdah on thy back, and a red cloth covered with gold on thy sides, and walk at the head of the processions of the king. then i shall sit on thy neck, o kala nag, with a silver _ankus_, and men will run before us with golden sticks, crying, 'room for the king's elephant!' that will be good, kala nag, but not so good as this hunting in the jungles." "umph!" said big toomai. "thou art a boy, and as wild as a buffalo-calf. this running up and down among the hills is not the best government service. i am getting old, and i do not love wild elephants, give me brick elephant-lines, one stall to each elephant, and big stumps to tie them to safely, and flat, broad roads to exercise upon, instead of this come-and-go camping. aha, the cawnpore barracks were good. there was a bazaar close by, and only three hours' work a day." little toomai remembered the cawnpore elephant-lines and said nothing. he very much preferred the camp life, and hated those broad, flat roads, with the daily grubbing for grass in the forage-reserve, and the long hours when there was nothing to do except to watch kala nag fidgeting in his pickets. what little toomai liked was to scramble up bridle-paths that only an elephant could take; the dip into the valley below; the glimpses of the wild elephants browsing miles away; the rush of the frightened pig and peacock under kala nag's feet; the blinding warm rains, when all the hills and valleys smoked; the beautiful misty mornings when nobody knew where they would camp that night; the steady, cautious drive of the wild elephants, and the mad rush and blaze and hullaballoo of the last night's drive, when the elephants poured into the stockade like boulders in a landslide, found that they could not get out, and flung themselves at the heavy posts only to be driven back by yells and flaring torches and volleys of blank cartridge. [illustration: "he would get his torch and wave it, and yell with the best."] even a little boy could be of use there, and toomai was as useful as three boys. he would get his torch and wave it, and yell with the best. but the really good time came when the driving out began, and the keddah, that is, the stockade, looked like a picture of the end of the world, and men had to make signs to one another, because they could not hear themselves speak. then little toomai would climb up to the top of one of the quivering stockade-posts, his sun-bleached brown hair flying loose all over his shoulders, and he looking like a goblin in the torch-light; and as soon as there was a lull you could hear his high-pitched yells of encouragement to kala nag, above the trumpeting and crashing, and snapping of ropes, and groans of the tethered elephants. "_maã®l, maã®l, kala nag!_ (go on, go on, black snake!) _dant do!_ (give him the tusk!) _somalo! somalo!_ (careful, careful!) _maro! mar!_ (hit him, hit him!) mind the post! _arre! arre! hai! yai! kya-a-ah!_" he would shout, and the big fight between kala nag and the wild elephant would sway to and fro across the keddah, and the old elephant-catchers would wipe the sweat out of their eyes, and find time to nod to little toomai wriggling with joy on the top of the posts. he did more than wriggle. one night he slid down from the post and slipped in between the elephants, and threw up the loose end of a rope, which had dropped, to a driver who was trying to get a purchase on the leg of a kicking young calf (calves always give more trouble than full-grown animals). kala nag saw him, caught him in his trunk, and handed him up to big toomai, who slapped him then and there, and put him back on the post. next morning he gave him a scolding, and said: "are not good brick elephant-lines and a little tent-carrying enough, that thou must needs go elephant-catching on thy own account, little worthless? now those foolish hunters, whose pay is less than my pay, have spoken to petersen sahib of the matter." little toomai was frightened. he did not know much of white men, but petersen sahib was the greatest white man in the world to him. he was the head of all the keddah operations--the man who caught all the elephants for the government of india, and who knew more about the ways of elephants than any living man. "what--what will happen?" said little toomai. "happen! the worst that can happen. petersen sahib is a madman. else why should he go hunting these wild devils? he may even require thee to be an elephant-catcher, to sleep anywhere in these fever-filled jungles, and at last to be trampled to death in the keddah. it is well that this nonsense ends safely. next week the catching is over, and we of the plains are sent back to our stations. then we will march on smooth roads, and forget all this hunting. but, son, i am angry that thou shouldst meddle in the business that belongs to these dirty assamese jungle-folk. kala nag will obey none but me, so i must go with him into the keddah, but he is only a fighting elephant, and he does not help to rope them. so i sit at my ease, as befits a mahout,--not a mere hunter,--a mahout, i say, and a man who gets a pension at the end of his service. is the family of toomai of the elephants to be trodden underfoot in the dirt of a keddah? bad one! wicked one! worthless son! go and wash kala nag and attend to his ears, and see that there are no thorns in his feet; or else petersen sahib will surely catch thee and make thee a wild hunter--a follower of elephant's foot-tracks, a jungle-bear. bah! shame! go!" little toomai went off without saying a word, but he told kala nag all his grievances while he was examining his feet. "no matter," said little toomai, turning up the fringe of kala nag's huge right ear. "they have said my name to petersen sahib, and perhaps--and perhaps--and perhaps--who knows? hai! that is a big thorn that i have pulled out!" the next few days were spent in getting the elephants together, in walking the newly caught wild elephants up and down between a couple of tame ones, to prevent them from giving too much trouble on the downward march to the plains, and in taking stock of the blankets and ropes and things that had been worn out or lost in the forest. petersen sahib came in on his clever she-elephant pudmini; he had been paying off other camps among the hills, for the season was coming to an end, and there was a native clerk sitting at a table under a tree, to pay the drivers their wages. as each man was paid he went back to his elephant, and joined the line that stood ready to start. the catchers, and hunters, and beaters, the men of the regular keddah, who stayed in the jungle year in and year out, sat on the backs of the elephants that belonged to petersen sahib's permanent force, or leaned against the trees with their guns across their arms, and made fun of the drivers who were going away, and laughed when the newly caught elephants broke the line and ran about. big toomai went up to the clerk with little toomai behind him, and machua appa, the head-tracker, said in an undertone to a friend of his, "there goes one piece of good elephant-stuff at least. 't is a pity to send that young jungle-cock to moult in the plains." now petersen sahib had ears all over him, as a man must have who listens to the most silent of all living things--the wild elephant. he turned where he was lying all along on pudmini's back, and said, "what is that? i did not know of a man among the plain-drivers who had wit enough to rope even a dead elephant." "this is not a man, but a boy. he went into the keddah at the last drive, and threw barmao there the rope, when we were trying to get that young calf with the blotch on his shoulder away from his mother." machua appa pointed at little toomai, and petersen sahib looked, and little toomai bowed to the earth. "he throw a rope? he is smaller than a picket-pin. little one, what is thy name?" said petersen sahib. little toomai was too frightened to speak, but kala nag was behind him, and toomai made a sign with his hand, and the elephant caught him up in his trunk and held him level with pudmini's forehead, in front of the great petersen sahib. then little toomai covered his face with his hands, for he was only a child, and except where elephants were concerned, he was just as bashful as a child could be. "oho!" said petersen sahib, smiling underneath his mustache, "and why didst thou teach thy elephant _that_ trick? was it to help thee steal green corn from the roofs of the houses when the ears are put out to dry?" [illustration: "'not green corn, protector of the poor,--melons,' said little toomai."] "not green corn, protector of the poor,--melons," said little toomai, and all the men sitting about broke into a roar of laughter. most of them had taught their elephants that trick when they were boys. little toomai was hanging eight feet up in the air, and he wished very much that he were eight feet underground. "he is toomai, my son, sahib," said big toomai, scowling. "he is a very bad boy, and he will end in a jail, sahib." "of that i have my doubts," said petersen sahib. "a boy who can face a full keddah at his age does not end in jails. see, little one, here are four annas to spend in sweetmeats because thou hast a little head under that great thatch of hair. in time thou mayest become a hunter too." big toomai scowled more than ever. "remember, though, that keddahs are not good for children to play in," petersen sahib went on. "must i never go there, sahib?" asked little toomai, with a big gasp. "yes." petersen sahib smiled again. "when thou hast seen the elephants dance. that is the proper time. come to me when thou hast seen the elephants dance, and then i will let thee go into all the keddahs." there was another roar of laughter, for that is an old joke among elephant-catchers, and it means just never. there are great cleared flat places hidden away in the forests that are called elephants' ballrooms, but even these are found only by accident, and no man has ever seen the elephants dance. when a driver boasts of his skill and bravery the other drivers say, "and when didst _thou_ see the elephants dance?" kala nag put little toomai down, and he bowed to the earth again and went away with his father, and gave the silver four-anna piece to his mother, who was nursing his baby-brother, and they all were put up on kala nag's back, and the line of grunting, squealing elephants rolled down the hill-path to the plains. it was a very lively march on account of the new elephants, who gave trouble at every ford, and who needed coaxing or beating every other minute. big toomai prodded kala nag spitefully, for he was very angry, but little toomai was too happy to speak. petersen sahib had noticed him, and given him money, so he felt as a private soldier would feel if he had been called out of the ranks and praised by his commander-in-chief. "what did petersen sahib mean by the elephant-dance?" he said, at last, softly to his mother. big toomai heard him and grunted. "that thou shouldst never be one of these hill-buffaloes of trackers. _that_ was what he meant. oh you in front, what is blocking the way?" an assamese driver, two or three elephants ahead, turned round angrily, crying: "bring up kala nag, and knock this youngster of mine into good behavior. why should petersen sahib have chosen _me_ to go down with you donkeys of the rice-fields? lay your beast alongside, toomai, and let him prod with his tusks. by all the gods of the hills, these new elephants are possessed, or else they can smell their companions in the jungle." kala nag hit the new elephant in the ribs and knocked the wind out of him, as big toomai said, "we have swept the hills of wild elephants at the last catch. it is only your carelessness in driving. must i keep order along the whole line?" "hear him!" said the other driver. "_we_ have swept the hills! ho! ho! you are very wise, you plains-people. any one but a mudhead who never saw the jungle would know that _they_ know that the drives are ended for the season. therefore all the wild elephants to-night will--but why should i waste wisdom on a river-turtle?" "what will they do?" little toomai called out. "_ohã©_, little one. art thou there? well, i will tell thee, for thou hast a cool head. they will dance, and it behooves thy father, who has swept _all_ the hills of _all_ the elephants, to double-chain his pickets to-night." "what talk is this?" said big toomai. "for forty years, father and son, we have tended elephants, and we have never heard such moonshine about dances." "yes; but a plains-man who lives in a hut knows only the four walls of his hut. well, leave thy elephants unshackled to-night and see what comes; as for their dancing, i have seen the place where--_bapree-bap!_ how many windings has the dihang river? here is another ford, and we must swim the calves. stop still, you behind there." and in this way, talking and wrangling and splashing through the rivers, they made their first march to a sort of receiving-camp for the new elephants; but they lost their tempers long before they got there. then the elephants were chained by their hind legs to their big stumps of pickets, and extra ropes were fitted to the new elephants, and the fodder was piled before them, and the hill-drivers went back to petersen sahib through the afternoon light, telling the plains-drivers to be extra careful that night, and laughing when the plains-drivers asked the reason. little toomai attended to kala nag's supper, and as evening fell, wandered through the camp, unspeakably happy, in search of a tom-tom. when an indian child's heart is full, he does not run about and make a noise in an irregular fashion. he sits down to a sort of revel all by himself. and little toomai had been spoken to by petersen sahib! if he had not found what he wanted i believe he would have burst. but the sweatmeat-seller in the camp lent him a little tom-tom--a drum beaten with the flat of the hand--and he sat down, cross-legged, before kala nag as the stars began to come out, the tom-tom in his lap, and he thumped and he thumped and he thumped, and the more he thought of the great honor that had been done to him, the more he thumped, all alone among the elephant-fodder. there was no tune and no words, but the thumping made him happy. the new elephants strained at their ropes, and squealed and trumpeted from time to time, and he could hear his mother in the camp hut putting his small brother to sleep with an old, old song about the great god shiv, who once told all the animals what they should eat. it is a very soothing lullaby, and the first verse says: shiv, who poured the harvest and made the winds to blow, sitting at the doorways of a day of long ago, gave to each his portion, food and toil and fate, from the king upon the _guddee_ to the beggar at the gate. all things made he--shiva the preserver. mahadeo! mahadeo! he made all,- thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine, and mother's heart for sleepy head, o little son of mine! little toomai came in with a joyous _tunk-a-tunk_ at the end of each verse, till he felt sleepy and stretched himself on the fodder at kala nag's side. at last the elephants began to lie down one after another as is their custom, till only kala nag at the right of the line was left standing up; and he rocked slowly from side to side, his ears put forward to listen to the night wind as it blew very slowly across the hills. the air was full of all the night noises that, taken together, make one big silence--the click of one bamboo-stem against the other, the rustle of something alive in the undergrowth, the scratch and squawk of a half-waked bird (birds are awake in the night much more often than we imagine), and the fall of water ever so far away. little toomai slept for some time, and when he waked it was brilliant moonlight, and kala nag was still standing up with his ears cocked. little toomai turned, rustling in the fodder, and watched the curve of his big back against half the stars in heaven, and while he watched he heard, so far away that it sounded no more than a pinhole of noise pricked through the stillness, the "hoot-toot" of a wild elephant. all the elephants in the lines jumped up as if they had been shot, and their grunts at last waked the sleeping mahouts, and they came out and drove in the picket-pegs with big mallets, and tightened this rope and knotted that till all was quiet. one new elephant had nearly grubbed up his picket, and big toomai took off kala nag's leg-chain and shackled that elephant fore foot to hind foot, but slipped a loop of grass-string round kala nag's leg, and told him to remember that he was tied fast. he knew that he and his father and his grandfather had done the very same thing hundreds of times before. kala nag did not answer to the order by gurgling, as he usually did. he stood still, looking out across the moonlight, his head a little raised and his ears spread like fans, up to the great folds of the garo hills. "look to him if he grows restless in the night," said big toomai to little toomai, and he went into the hut and slept. little toomai was just going to sleep, too, when he heard the coir string snap with a little "tang," and kala nag rolled out of his pickets as slowly and as silently as a cloud rolls out of the mouth of a valley. little toomai pattered after him, bare-footed, down the road in the moonlight, calling under his breath, "kala nag! kala nag! take me with you, o kala nag!" the elephant turned without a sound, took three strides back to the boy in the moonlight, put down his trunk, swung him up to his neck, and almost before little toomai had settled his knees, slipped into the forest. there was one blast of furious trumpeting from the lines, and then the silence shut down on everything, and kala nag began to move. sometimes a tuft of high grass washed along his sides as a wave washes along the sides of a ship, and sometimes a cluster of wild-pepper vines would scrape along his back, or a bamboo would creak where his shoulder touched it; but between those times he moved absolutely without any sound, drifting through the thick garo forest as though it had been smoke. he was going uphill, but though little toomai watched the stars in the rifts of the trees, he could not tell in what direction. then kala nag reached the crest of the ascent and stopped for a minute, and little toomai could see the tops of the trees lying all speckled and furry under the moonlight for miles and miles, and the blue-white mist over the river in the hollow. toomai leaned forward and looked, and he felt that the forest was awake below him--awake and alive and crowded. a big brown fruit-eating bat brushed past his ear; a porcupine's quills rattled in the thicket, and in the darkness between the tree-stems he heard a hog-bear digging hard in the moist warm earth, and snuffing as it digged. then the branches closed over his head again, and kala nag began to go down into the valley--not quietly this time, but as a runaway gun goes down a steep bank--in one rush. the huge limbs moved as steadily as pistons, eight feet to each stride, and the wrinkled skin of the elbow-points rustled. the undergrowth on either side of him ripped with a noise like torn canvas, and the saplings that he heaved away right and left with his shoulders sprang back again, and banged him on the flank, and great trails of creepers, all matted together, hung from his tusks as he threw his head from side to side and plowed out his pathway. then little toomai laid himself down close to the great neck, lest a swinging bough should sweep him to the ground, and he wished that he were back in the lines again. the grass began to get squashy, and kala nag's feet sucked and squelched as he put them down, and the night mist at the bottom of the valley chilled little toomai. there was a splash and a trample, and the rush of running water, and kala nag strode through the bed of a river, feeling his way at each step. above the noise of the water, as it swirled round the elephant's legs, little toomai could hear more splashing and some trumpeting both up-stream and down--great grunts and angry snortings, and all the mist about him seemed to be full of rolling wavy shadows. "_ai!_" he said, half aloud, his teeth chattering. "the elephant-folk are out to-night. it _is_ the dance, then." kala nag swashed out of the water, blew his trunk clear, and began another climb; but this time he was not alone, and he had not to make his path. that was made already, six feet wide, in front of him, where the bent jungle-grass was trying to recover itself and stand up. many elephants must have gone that way only a few minutes before. little toomai looked back, and behind him a great wild tusker with his little pig's eyes glowing like hot coals, was just lifting himself out of the misty river. then the trees closed up again, and they went on and up, with trumpetings and crashings, and the sound of breaking branches on every side of them. at last kala nag stood still between two tree-trunks at the very top of the hill. they were part of a circle of trees that grew round an irregular space of some three or four acres, and in all that space, as little toomai could see, the ground had been trampled down as hard as a brick floor. some trees grew in the center of the clearing, but their bark was rubbed away, and the white wood beneath showed all shiny and polished in the patches of moonlight. there were creepers hanging from the upper branches, and the bells of the flowers of the creepers, great waxy white things like convolvuluses, hung down fast asleep; but within the limits of the clearing there was not a single blade of green--nothing but the trampled earth. the moonlight showed it all iron-gray, except where some elephants stood upon it, and their shadows were inky black. little toomai looked, holding his breath, with his eyes starting out of his head, and as he looked, more and more and more elephants swung out into the open from between the tree-trunks. little toomai could count only up to ten, and he counted again and again on his fingers till he lost count of the tens, and his head began to swim. outside the clearing he could hear them crashing in the undergrowth as they worked their way up the hillside; but as soon as they were within the circle of the tree-trunks they moved like ghosts. there were white-tusked wild males, with fallen leaves and nuts and twigs lying in the wrinkles of their necks and the folds of their ears; fat slow-footed she-elephants, with restless, little pinky-black calves only three or four feet high running under their stomachs; young elephants with their tusks just beginning to show, and very proud of them; lanky, scraggy old-maid elephants, with their hollow anxious faces, and trunks like rough bark; savage old bull-elephants, scarred from shoulder to flank with great weals and cuts of bygone fights, and the caked dirt of their solitary mud-baths dropping from their shoulders; and there was one with a broken tusk and the marks of the full-stroke, the terrible drawing scrape, of a tiger's claws on his side. they were standing head to head, or walking to and fro across the ground in couples, or rocking and swaying all by themselves--scores and scores of elephants. toomai knew that so long as he lay still on kala nag's neck nothing would happen to him; for even in the rush and scramble of a keddah-drive a wild elephant does not reach up with his trunk and drag a man off the neck of a tame elephant; and these elephants were not thinking of men that night. once they started and put their ears forward when they heard the chinking of a leg-iron in the forest, but it was pudmini, petersen sahib's pet elephant, her chain snapped short off, grunting, snuffling up the hillside. she must have broken her pickets, and come straight from petersen sahib's camp; and little toomai saw another elephant, one that he did not know, with deep rope-galls on his back and breast. he, too, must have run away from some camp in the hills about. at last there was no sound of any more elephants moving in the forest, and kala nag rolled out from his station between the trees and went into the middle of the crowd, clucking and gurgling, and all the elephants began to talk in their own tongue, and to move about. [illustration: "little toomai looked down upon scores and scores of broad backs."] still lying down, little toomai looked down upon scores and scores of broad backs, and wagging ears, and tossing trunks, and little rolling eyes. he heard the click of tusks as they crossed other tusks by accident, and the dry rustle of trunks twined together, and the chafing of enormous sides and shoulders in the crowd, and the incessant flick and _hissh_ of the great tails. then a cloud came over the moon, and he sat in black darkness; but the quiet, steady hustling and pushing and gurgling went on just the same. he knew that there were elephants all round kala nag, and that there was no chance of backing him out of the assembly; so he set his teeth and shivered. in a keddah at least there was torch-light and shouting, but here he was all alone in the dark, and once a trunk came up and touched him on the knee. then an elephant trumpeted, and they all took it up for five or ten terrible seconds. the dew from the trees above spattered down like rain on the unseen backs, and a dull booming noise began, not very loud at first, and little toomai could not tell what it was; but it grew and grew, and kala nag lifted up one fore foot and then the other, and brought them down on the ground--one-two, one-two, as steadily as trip-hammers. the elephants were stamping altogether now, and it sounded like a war-drum beaten at the mouth of a cave. the dew fell from the trees till there was no more left to fall, and the booming went on, and the ground rocked and shivered, and little toomai put his hands up to his ears to shut out the sound. but it was all one gigantic jar that ran through him--this stamp of hundreds of heavy feet on the raw earth. once or twice he could feel kala nag and all the others surge forward a few strides, and the thumping would change to the crushing sound of juicy green things being bruised, but in a minute or two the boom of feet on hard earth began again. a tree was creaking and groaning somewhere near him. he put out his arm and felt the bark, but kala nag moved forward, still tramping, and he could not tell where he was in the clearing. there was no sound from the elephants, except once, when two or three little calves squeaked together. then he heard a thump and a shuffle, and the booming went on. it must have lasted fully two hours, and little toomai ached in every nerve; but he knew by the smell of the night air that the dawn was coming. the morning broke in one sheet of pale yellow behind the green hills, and the booming stopped with the first ray, as though the light had been an order. before little toomai had got the ringing out of his head, before even he had shifted his position, there was not an elephant in sight except kala nag, pudmini, and the elephant with the rope-galls, and there was neither sign nor rustle nor whisper down the hillsides to show where the others had gone. little toomai stared again and again. the clearing, as he remembered it, had grown in the night. more trees stood in the middle of it, but the undergrowth and the jungle-grass at the sides had been rolled back. little toomai stared once more. now he understood the trampling. the elephants had stamped out more room--had stamped the thick grass and juicy cane to trash, the trash into slivers, the slivers into tiny fibers, and the fibers into hard earth. "wah!" said little toomai, and his eyes were very heavy. "kala nag, my lord, let us keep by pudmini and go to peterson sahib's camp, or i shall drop from thy neck." the third elephant watched the two go away, snorted, wheeled round, and took his own path. he may have belonged to some little native king's establishment, fifty or sixty or a hundred miles away. two hours later, as petersen sahib was eating early breakfast, his elephants, who had been double-chained that night, began to trumpet, and pudmini, mired to the shoulders, with kala nag, very foot-sore, shambled into the camp. little toomai's face was gray and pinched, and his hair was full of leaves and drenched with dew; but he tried to salute petersen sahib, and cried faintly: "the dance--the elephant-dance! i have seen it, and--i die!" as kala nag sat down, he slid off his neck in a dead faint. but, since native children have no nerves worth speaking of, in two hours he was lying very contentedly in petersen sahib's hammock with petersen sahib's shooting-coat under his head, and a glass of warm milk, a little brandy, with a dash of quinine inside of him, and while the old hairy, scarred hunters of the jungles sat three-deep before him, looking at him as though he were a spirit, he told his tale in short words, as a child will, and wound up with: "now, if i lie in one word, send men to see, and they will find that the elephant-folk have trampled down more room in their dance-room, and they will find ten and ten, and many times ten, tracks leading to that dance-room. they made more room with their feet. i have seen it. kala nag took me, and i saw. also kala nag is very leg-weary!" little toomai lay back and slept all through the long afternoon and into the twilight, and while he slept petersen sahib and machua appa followed the track of the two elephants for fifteen miles across the hills. petersen sahib had spent eighteen years in catching elephants, and he had only once before found such a dance-place. machua appa had no need to look twice at the clearing to see what had been done there, or to scratch with his toe in the packed, rammed earth. "the child speaks truth," said he. "all this was done last night, and i have counted seventy tracks crossing the river. see, sahib, where pudmini's leg-iron cut the bark of that tree! yes; she was there too." they looked at each other, and up and down, and they wondered; for the ways of elephants are beyond the wit of any man, black or white, to fathom. "forty years and five," said machua appa, "have i followed my lord, the elephant, but never have i heard that any child of man had seen what this child has seen. by all the gods of the hills, it is--what can we say?" and he shook his head. when they got back to camp it was time for the evening meal. peterson sahib ate alone in his tent, but he gave orders that the camp should have two sheep and some fowls, as well as a double-ration of flour and rice and salt, for he knew that there would be a feast. big toomai had come up hot-foot from the camp in the plains to search for his son and his elephant, and now that he had found them he looked at them as though he were afraid of them both. and there was a feast by the blazing campfires in front of the lines of picketed elephants, and little toomai was the hero of it all; and the big brown elephant-catchers, the trackers and drivers and ropers, and the men who know all the secrets of breaking the wildest elephants, passed him from one to the other, and they marked his forehead with blood from the breast of a newly killed jungle-cock, to show that he was a forester, initiated and free of all the jungles. and at last, when the flames died down, and the red light of the logs made the elephants look as though they had been dipped in blood too, machua appa, the head of all the drivers of all the keddahs--machua appa, petersen sahib's other self, who had never seen a made road in forty years: machua appa, who was so great that he had no other name than machua appa--leaped to his feet, with little toomai held high in the air above his head, and shouted: "listen, my brothers. listen, too, you my lords in the lines there, for i, machua appa, am speaking! this little one shall no more be called little toomai, but toomai of the elephants, as his great-grandfather was called before him. what never man has seen he has seen through the long night, and the favor of the elephant-folk and of the gods of the jungles is with him. he shall become a great tracker; he shall become greater than i, even i, machua appa! he shall follow the new trail, and the stale trail, and the mixed trail, with a clear eye! he shall take no harm in the keddah when he runs under their bellies to rope the wild tuskers; and if he slips before the feet of the charging bull-elephant that bull-elephant shall know who he is and shall not crush him. _aihai!_ my lords in the chains,"--he whirled up the line of pickets,--"here is the little one that has seen your dances in your hidden places--the sight that never man saw! give him honor, my lords! _salaam karo_, my children. make your salute to toomai of the elephants! gunga pershad, ahaa! hira guj, birchi guj, kuttar guj, ahaa! pudmini,--thou hast seen him at the dance, and thou too, kala nag, my pearl among elephants!--ahaa! together! to toomai of the elephants. _barrao!_" [illustration: "'to toomai of the elephants. barrao!'"] and at that last wild yell the whole line flung up their trunks till the tips touched their foreheads, and broke out into the full salute--the crashing trumpet-peal that only the viceroy of india hears, the salaamut of the keddah. but it was all for the sake of little toomai, who had seen what never man had seen before--the dance of the elephants at night and alone in the heart of the garo hills! shiv and the grasshopper (the song that toomai's mother sang to the baby) shiv, who poured the harvest and made the winds to blow, sitting at the doorways of a day of long ago, gave to each his portion, food and toil and fate, from the king upon the _guddee_ to the beggar at the gate. _all things made he--shiva the preserver, mahadeo! mahadeo! he made all,- thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine, and mother's heart for sleepy head, o little son of mine!_ wheat he gave to rich folk, millet to the poor, broken scraps for holy men that beg from door to door; cattle to the tiger, carrion to the kite, and rags and bones to wicked wolves without the wall at night. naught he found too lofty, none he saw too low- parbati beside him watched them come and go; thought to cheat her husband, turning shiv to jest- stole the little grasshopper and hid it in her breast. _so she tricked him, shiva the preserver. mahadeo! mahadeo! turn and see. tall are the camels, heavy are the kine, but this was least of little things, o little son of mine!_ when the dole was ended, laughingly she said, "master, of a million mouths is not one unfed?" laughing, shiv made answer, "all have had their part, even he, the little one, hidden 'neath thy heart." from her breast she plucked it, parbati the thief, saw the least of little things gnawed a new-grown leaf! saw and feared and wondered, making prayer to shiv, who hath surely given meat to all that live. _all things made he--shiva the preserver. mahadeo! mahadeo! he made all,- thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine, and mother's heart for sleepy head, o little son of mine!_ her majesty's servants you can work it out by fractions or by simple rule of three, but the way of tweedle-dum is not the way of tweedle-dee. you can twist it, you can turn it, you can plait it till you drop but the way of pilly-winky's not the way of winkie-pop! [illustration] her majesty's servants it had been raining heavily for one whole month--raining on a camp of thirty thousand men, thousands of camels, elephants, horses, bullocks, and mules, all gathered together at a place called rawal pindi, to be reviewed by the viceroy of india. he was receiving a visit from the amir of afghanistan--a wild king of a very wild country; and the amir had brought with him for a bodyguard eight hundred men and horses who had never seen a camp or a locomotive before in their lives--savage men and savage horses from somewhere at the back of central asia. every night a mob of these horses would be sure to break their heel-ropes, and stampede up and down the camp through the mud in the dark, or the camels would break loose and run about and fall over the ropes of the tents, and you can imagine how pleasant that was for men trying to go to sleep. my tent lay far away from the camel lines, and i thought it was safe; but one night a man popped his head in and shouted, "get out, quick! they're coming! my tent's gone!" i knew who "they" were; so i put on my boots and waterproof and scuttled out into the slush. little vixen, my fox-terrier, went out through the other side; and then there was a roaring and a grunting and bubbling, and i saw the tent cave in, as the pole snapped, and begin to dance about like a mad ghost. a camel had blundered into it, and wet and angry as i was, i could not help laughing. then i ran on, because i did not know how many camels might have got loose, and before long i was out of sight of the camp, plowing my way through the mud. [illustration: "a camel had blundered into my tent."] at last i fell over the tail-end of a gun, and by that knew i was somewhere near the artillery lines where the cannon were stacked at night. as i did not want to plowter about any more in the drizzle and the dark, i put my waterproof over the muzzle of one gun, and made a sort of wigwam with two or three rammers that i found, and lay along the tail of another gun, wondering where vixen had got to, and where i might be. just as i was getting ready to sleep i heard a jingle of harness and a grunt, and a mule passed me shaking his wet ears. he belonged to a screw-gun battery, for i could hear the rattle of the straps and rings and chains and things on his saddle-pad. the screw-guns are tidy little cannon made in two pieces, that are screwed together when the time comes to use them. they are taken up mountains, anywhere that a mule can find a road, and they are very useful for fighting in rocky country. behind the mule there was a camel, with his big soft feet squelching and slipping in the mud, and his neck bobbing to and fro like a strayed hen's. luckily, i knew enough of beast language--not wild-beast language, but camp-beast language, of course--from the natives to know what he was saying. he must have been the one that flopped into my tent, for he called to the mule, "what shall i do? where shall i go? i have fought with a white thing that waved, and it took a stick and hit me on the neck." (that was my broken tentpole, and i was very glad to know it.) "shall we run on?" "oh, it was you," said the mule, "you and your friends, that have been disturbing the camp? all right. you'll be beaten for this in the morning; but i may as well give you something on account now." i heard the harness jingle as the mule backed and caught the camel two kicks in the ribs that rang like a drum. "another time," he said, "you'll know better than to run through a mule-battery at night, shouting 'thieves and fire!' sit down, and keep your silly neck quiet." the camel doubled up camel-fashion, like a two-foot rule, and sat down whimpering. there was a regular beat of hoofs in the darkness, and a big troop-horse cantered up as steadily as though he were on parade, jumped a gun-tail, and landed close to the mule. "it's disgraceful," he said, blowing out his nostrils. "those camels have racketed through our lines again--the third time this week. how's a horse to keep his condition if he isn't allowed to sleep? who's here?" "i'm the breech-piece mule of number two gun of the first screw battery," said the mule, "and the other's one of your friends. he's waked me up too. who are you?" "number fifteen, e troop, ninth lancers--dick cunliffe's horse. stand over a little, there." "oh, beg your pardon," said the mule. "it's too dark to see much. aren't these camels too sickening for anything? i walked out of my lines to get a little peace and quiet here." "my lords," said the camel humbly, "we dreamed bad dreams in the night, and we were very much afraid. i am only a baggage-camel of the 39th native infantry, and i am not so brave as you are, my lords." "then why the pickets didn't you stay and carry baggage for the 39th native infantry, instead of running all round the camp?" said the mule. "they were such very bad dreams," said the camel. "i am sorry. listen! what is that? shall we run on again?" "sit down," said the mule, "or you'll snap your long legs between the guns." he cocked one ear and listened. "bullocks!" he said; "gun-bullocks. on my word, you and your friends have waked the camp very thoroughly. it takes a good deal of prodding to put up a gun-bullock." i heard a chain dragging along the ground, and a yoke of the great sulky white bullocks that drag the heavy siege-guns when the elephants won't go any nearer to the firing, came shouldering along together; and almost stepping on the chain was another battery-mule, calling wildly for "billy." "that's one of our recruits," said the old mule to the troop-horse. "he's calling for me. here, youngster, stop squealing; the dark never hurt anybody yet." the gun-bullocks lay down together and began chewing the cud, but the young mule huddled close to billy. "things!" he said; "fearful and horrible things, billy! they came into our lines while we were asleep. d'you think they'll kill us?" "i've a very great mind to give you a number one kicking," said billy. "the idea of a fourteen-hand mule with your training disgracing the battery before this gentleman!" "gently, gently!" said the troop-horse. "remember they are always like this to begin with. the first time i ever saw a man (it was in australia when i was a three-year-old) i ran for half a day, and if i'd seen a camel i should have been running still." nearly all our horses for the english cavalry are brought to india from australia, and are broken in by the troopers themselves. "true enough," said billy. "stop shaking, youngster. the first time they put the full harness with all its chains on my back, i stood on my fore legs and kicked every bit of it off. i hadn't learned the real science of kicking then, but the battery said they had never seen anything like it." "but this wasn't harness or anything that jingled," said the young mule. "you know i don't mind that now, billy. it was things like trees, and they fell up and down the lines and bubbled; and my head-rope broke, and i couldn't find my driver, and i couldn't find you, billy, so i ran off with--with these gentlemen." "h'm!" said billy. "as soon as i heard the camels were loose i came away on my own account, quietly. when a battery--a screw-gun mule calls gun-bullocks gentlemen, he must be very badly shaken up. who are you fellows on the ground there?" the gun-bullocks rolled their cuds, and answered both together: "the seventh yoke of the first gun of the big gun battery. we were asleep when the camels came, but when we were trampled on we got up and walked away. it is better to lie quiet in the mud than to be disturbed on good bedding. we told your friend here that there was nothing to be afraid of, but he knew so much that he thought otherwise. wah!" they went on chewing. "that comes of being afraid," said billy. "you get laughed at by gun-bullocks. i hope you like it, young 'un." the young mule's teeth snapped, and i heard him say something about not being afraid of any beefy old bullock in the world; but the bullocks only clicked their horns together and went on chewing. "now, don't be angry _after_ you've been afraid. that's the worst kind of cowardice," said the troop-horse. "anybody can be forgiven for being scared in the night, _i_ think, if they see things they don't understand. we've broken out of our pickets, again and again, four hundred and fifty of us, just because a new recruit got to telling tales of whip-snakes at home in australia till we were scared to death of the loose ends of our head-ropes." [illustration: "'anybody can be forgiven for being scared in the night,' said the troop-horse."] "that's all very well in camp," said billy; "i'm not above stampeding myself, for the fun of the thing, when i haven't been out for a day or two; but what do you do on active service?" "oh, that's quite another set of new shoes," said the troop-horse. "dick cunliffe's on my back then, and drives his knees into me, and all i have to do is to watch where i am putting my feet, and to keep my hind legs well under me, and be bridle-wise." "what's bridle-wise?" said the young mule. "by the blue gums of the back blocks," snorted the troop-horse, "do you mean to say that you aren't taught to be bridle-wise in your business? how can you do anything, unless you can spin round at once when the rein is pressed on your neck? it means life or death to your man, and of course that's life or death to you. get round with your hind legs under you the instant you feel the rein on your neck. if you haven't room to swing round, rear up a little and come round on your hind legs. that's being bridle-wise." "we aren't taught that way," said billy the mule stiffly. "we're taught to obey the man at our head: step off when he says so, and step in when he says so. i suppose it comes to the same thing. now, with all this fine fancy business and rearing, which must be very bad for your hocks, what do you _do_?" "that depends," said the troop-horse. "generally i have to go in among a lot of yelling, hairy men with knives,--long shiny knives, worse than the farrier's knives,--and i have to take care that dick's boot is just touching the next man's boot without crushing it. i can see dick's lance to the right of my right eye, and i know i'm safe. i shouldn't care to be the man or horse that stood up to dick and me when we're in a hurry." "don't the knives hurt?" said the young mule. "well, i got one cut across the chest once, but that wasn't dick's fault--" "a lot i should have cared whose fault it was, if it hurt!" said the young mule. "you must," said the troop-horse. "if you don't trust your man, you may as well run away at once. that's what some of our horses do, and i don't blame them. as i was saying, it wasn't dick's fault. the man was lying on the ground, and i stretched myself not to tread on him, and he slashed up at me. next time i have to go over a man lying down i shall step on him--hard." [illustration: "'the man was lying on the ground, and i stretched myself not to tread on him, and he slashed up at me.'"] "h'm!" said billy; "it sounds very foolish. knives are dirty things at any time. the proper thing to do is to climb up a mountain with a well-balanced saddle, hang on by all four feet and your ears too, and creep and crawl and wriggle along, till you come out hundreds of feet above any one else, on a ledge where there's just room enough for your hoofs. then you stand still and keep quiet,--never ask a man to hold your head, young 'un,--keep quiet while the guns are being put together, and then you watch the little poppy shells drop down into the tree-tops ever so far below." "don't you ever trip?" said the troop-horse. "they say that when a mule trips you can split a hen's ear," said billy. "now and again _per-haps_ a badly packed saddle will upset a mule, but it's very seldom. i wish i could show you our business. it's beautiful. why, it took me three years to find out what the men were driving at. the science of the thing is never to show up against the sky-line, because, if you do, you may get fired at. remember that, young 'un. always keep hidden as much as possible, even if you have to go a mile out of your way. i lead the battery when it comes to that sort of climbing." "fired at without the chance of running into the people who are firing!" said the troop-horse, thinking hard. "i couldn't stand that. i should want to charge, with dick." "oh no, you wouldn't; you know that as soon as the guns are in position _they'll_ do all the charging. that's scientific and neat; but knives--pah!" the baggage-camel had been bobbing his head to and fro for some time past, anxious to get a word in edgeways. then i heard him say, as he cleared his throat, nervously: "i--i--i have fought a little, but not in that climbing way or that running way." "no. now you mention it," said billy, "you don't look as though you were made for climbing or running--much. well, how was it, old hay-bales?" "the proper way," said the camel. "we all sat down--" "oh, my crupper and breastplate!" said the troop-horse under his breath. "sat down?" "we sat down--a hundred of us," the camel went on, "in a big square, and the men piled our packs and saddles outside the square, and they fired over our backs, the men did, on all sides of the square." "what sort of men? any men that came along?" said the troop-horse. "they teach us in riding-school to lie down and let our masters fire across us, but dick cunliffe is the only man i'd trust to do that. it tickles my girths, and, besides, i can't see with my head on the ground." "what does it matter who fires across you?" said the camel. "there are plenty of men and plenty of other camels close by, and a great many clouds of smoke. i am not frightened then. i sit still and wait." "and yet," said billy, "you dream bad dreams and upset the camp at night. well! well! before i'd lie down, not to speak of sitting down, and let a man fire across me, my heels and his head would have something to say to each other. did you ever hear anything so awful as that?" there was a long silence, and then one of the gun-bullocks lifted up his big head and said, "this is very foolish indeed. there is only one way of fighting." "oh, go on," said billy. "_please_ don't mind me. i suppose you fellows fight standing on your tails?" "only one way," said the two together. (they must have been twins.) "this is that way. to put all twenty yoke of us to the big gun as soon as two tails trumpets." ("two tails" is camp slang for the elephant.) "what does two tails trumpet for?" said the young mule. "to show that he is not going any nearer to the smoke on the other side. two tails is a great coward. then we tug the big gun all together--_heya_--_hullah! heeyah! hullah!_ _we_ do not climb like cats nor run like calves. we go across the level plain, twenty yoke of us, till we are unyoked again, and we graze while the big guns talk across the plain to some town with mud walls, and pieces of the wall fall out, and the dust goes up as though many cattle were coming home." "oh! and you choose that time for grazing do you?" said the young mule. "that time or any other. eating is always good. we eat till we are yoked up again and tug the gun back to where two tails is waiting for it. sometimes there are big guns in the city that speak back, and some of us are killed, and then there is all the more grazing for those that are left. this is fate--nothing but fate. none the less, two tails is a great coward. that is the proper way to fight. we are brothers from hapur. our father was a sacred bull of shiva. we have spoken." "well, i've certainly learned something tonight," said the troop-horse. "do you gentlemen of the screw-gun battery feel inclined to eat when you are being fired at with big guns, and two tails is behind you?" "about as much as we feel inclined to sit down and let men sprawl all over us, or run into people with knives. i never heard such stuff. a mountain ledge, a well-balanced load, a driver you can trust to let you pick your own way, and i'm your mule; but the other things--no!" said billy, with a stamp of his foot. "of course," said the troop-horse, "every one is not made in the same way, and i can quite see that your family, on your father's side, would fail to understand a great many things." "never you mind my family on my father's side," said billy angrily; for every mule hates to be reminded that his father was a donkey. "my father was a southern gentleman, and he could pull down and bite and kick into rags every horse he came across. remember that, you big brown brumby!" brumby means wild horse without any breeding. imagine the feelings of sunol if a car-horse called her a "skate," and you can imagine how the australian horse felt. i saw the white of his eye glitter in the dark. "see here, you son of an imported malaga jackass," he said between his teeth, "i'd have you know that i'm related on my mother's side to carbine, winner of the melbourne cup, and where _i_ come from we aren't accustomed to being ridden over roughshod by any parrot-mouthed, pig-headed mule in a pop-gun peashooter battery. are you ready?" "on your hind legs!" squealed billy. they both reared up facing each other, and i was expecting a furious fight, when a gurgly, rumbly voice called out of the darkness to the right--"children, what are you fighting about there? be quiet." both beasts dropped down with a snort of disgust, for neither horse nor mule can bear to listen to an elephant's voice. "it's two tails!" said the troop-horse. "i can't stand him. a tail at each end isn't fair!" "my feelings exactly," said billy, crowding into the troop-horse for company. "we're very alike in some things." "i suppose we've inherited them from our mothers," said the troop-horse. "it's not worth quarreling about. hi! two tails, are you tied up?" "yes," said two tails, with a laugh all up his trunk. "i'm picketed for the night. i've heard what you fellows have been saying. but don't be afraid. i'm not coming over." the bullocks and the camel said, half aloud: "afraid of two tails--what nonsense!" and the bullocks went on: "we are sorry that you heard, but it is true. two tails, why are you afraid of the guns when they fire?" "well," said two tails, rubbing one hind leg against the other, exactly like a little boy saying a piece, "i don't quite know whether you'd understand." "we don't, but we have to pull the guns," said the bullocks. "i know it, and i know you are a good deal braver than you think you are. but it's different with me. my battery captain called me a pachydermatous anachronism the other day." "that's another way of fighting, i suppose?" said billy, who was recovering his spirits. "_you_ don't know what that means, of course, but i do. it means betwixt and between, and that is just where i am. i can see inside my head what will happen when a shell bursts; and you bullocks can't." "i can," said the troop-horse. "at least a little bit. i try not to think about it." "i can see more than you, and i _do_ think about it. i know there's a great deal of me to take care of, and i know that nobody knows how to cure me when i'm sick. all they can do is to stop my driver's pay till i get well, and i can't trust my driver." "ah!" said the troop-horse. "that explains it. i can trust dick." "you could put a whole regiment of dicks on my back without making me feel any better. i know just enough to be uncomfortable, and not enough to go on in spite of it." "we do not understand," said the bullocks. "i know you don't. i'm not talking to you. you don't know what blood is." "we do," said the bullocks. "it is red stuff that soaks into the ground and smells." the troop-horse gave a kick and a bound and a snort. "don't talk of it," he said. "i can smell it now, just thinking of it. it makes me want to run--when i haven't dick on my back." "but it is not here," said the camel and the bullocks. "why are you so stupid?" "it's vile stuff," said billy. "i don't want to run, but i don't want to talk about it." "there you are!" said two tails, waving his tail to explain. "surely. yes, we have been here all night," said the bullocks. two tails stamped his foot till the iron ring on it jingled. "oh, i'm not talking to _you_. you can't see inside your heads." "no. we see out of our four eyes," said the bullocks. "we see straight in front of us." "if i could do that and nothing else you wouldn't be needed to pull the big guns at all. if i was like my captain--he can see things inside his head before the firing begins, and he shakes all over, but he knows too much to run away--if i was like him i could pull the guns. but if i were as wise as all that i should never be here. i should be a king in the forest, as i used to be, sleeping half the day and bathing when i liked. i haven't had a good bath for a month." "that's all very fine," said billy; "but giving a thing a long name doesn't make it any better." "h'sh!" said the troop-horse. "i think i understand what two tails means." "you'll understand better in a minute," said two tails angrily. "now, just you explain to me why you don't like _this_!" he began trumpeting furiously at the top of his trumpet. "stop that!" said billy and the troop-horse together, and i could hear them stamp and shiver. an elephant's trumpeting is always nasty, especially on a dark night. "i sha'n't stop," said two tails. "won't you explain that, please? _hhrrmã¾h! rrrt! rrrmph! rrrhha!_" then he stopped suddenly, and i heard a little whimper in the dark, and knew that vixen had found me at last. she knew as well as i did that if there is one thing in the world the elephant is more afraid of than another it is a little barking dog; so she stopped to bully two tails in his pickets, and yapped round his big feet. two tails shuffled and squeaked. "go away, little dog!" he said. "don't snuff at my ankles, or i 'll kick at you. good little dog--nice little doggie, then! go home, you yelping little beast! oh, why doesn't some one take her away? she'll bite me in a minute." "seems to me," said billy to the troop-horse, "that our friend two tails is afraid of most things. now, if i had a full meal for every dog i've kicked across the parade-ground, i should be as fat as two tails nearly." i whistled, and vixen ran up to me, muddy all over, and licked my nose, and told me a long tale about hunting for me all through the camp. i never let her know that i understood beast talk, or she would have taken all sorts of liberties. so i buttoned her into the breast of my overcoat, and two tails shuffled and stamped and growled to himself. "extraordinary! most extraordinary!" he said. "it runs in our family. now, where has that nasty little beast gone to?" i heard him feeling about with his trunk. "we all seem to be affected in various ways," he went on, blowing his nose. "now, you gentlemen were alarmed, i believe, when i trumpeted." "not alarmed, exactly," said the troop-horse, "but it made me feel as though i had hornets where my saddle ought to be. don't begin again." "i'm frightened of a little dog, and the camel here is frightened by bad dreams in the night." "it is very lucky for us that we haven't all got to fight in the same way," said the troop-horse. "what i want to know," said the young mule, who had been quiet for a long time--"what _i_ want to know is, why we have to fight at all." "because we are told to," said the troop-horse, with a snort of contempt. "orders," said billy the mule; and his teeth snapped. "_hukm hai!_" (it is an order), said the camel with a gurgle; and two tails and the bullocks repeated, "_hukm hai!_" "yes, but who gives the orders?" said the recruit-mule. "the man who walks at your head--or sits on your back--or holds the nose-rope--or twists your tail," said billy and the troop-horse and the camel and the bullocks one after the other. "but who gives them the orders?" "now you want to know too much, young un," said billy, "and that is one way of getting kicked. all you have to do is to obey the man at your head and ask no questions." "he's quite right," said two tails. "i can't always obey, because i'm betwixt and between; but billy's right. obey the man next to you who gives the order, or you'll stop all the battery, besides getting a thrashing." the gun-bullocks got up to go. "morning is coming," they said. "we will go back to our lines. it is true that we see only out of our eyes, and we are not very clever; but still, we are the only people to-night who have not been afraid. good night, you brave people." nobody answered, and the troop-horse said, to change the conversation, "where's that little dog? a dog means a man somewhere near." "here i am," yapped vixen, "under the gun-tail with my man. you big, blundering beast of a camel you, you upset our tent. my man's very angry." "phew!" said the bullocks. "he must be white?" "of course he is," said vixen. "do you suppose i'm looked after by a black bullock-driver?" "_huah! ouach! ugh!_" said the bullocks. "let us get away quickly." they plunged forward in the mud, and managed somehow to run their yoke on the pole of an ammunition-wagon, where it jammed. "now you _have_ done it," said billy calmly. "don't struggle. you're hung up till daylight. what on earth's the matter?" the bullocks went off into the long hissing snorts that indian cattle give, and pushed and crowded and slued and stamped and slipped and nearly fell down in the mud, grunting savagely. "you'll break your necks in a minute," said the troop-horse. "what's the matter with white men? i live with 'em." "they--eat--us! pull!" said the near bullock: the yoke snapped with a twang, and they lumbered off together. i never knew before what made indian cattle so afraid of englishmen. we eat beef--a thing that no cattle-driver touches--and of course the cattle do not like it. "may i be flogged with my own pad-chains! who'd have thought of two big lumps like those losing their heads?" said billy. "never mind. i'm going to look at this man. most of the white men, i know, have things in their pockets," said the troop-horse. "i'll leave you, then. i can't say i'm overfond of 'em myself. besides, white men who haven't a place to sleep in are more than likely to be thieves, and i've a good deal of government property on my back. come along, young 'un, and we'll go back to our lines. good-night, australia! see you on parade to-morrow, i suppose. good-night, old hay-bale!--try to control your feelings, won't you? good-night, two tails! if you pass us on the ground to-morrow, don't trumpet. it spoils our formation." billy the mule stumped off with the swaggering limp of an old campaigner, as the troop-horse's head came nuzzling into my breast, and i gave him biscuits; while vixen, who is a most conceited little dog, told him fibs about the scores of horses that she and i kept. "i'm coming to the parade to-morrow in my dog-cart," she said. "where will you be?" "on the left hand of the second squadron. i set the time for all my troop, little lady," he said politely. "now i must go back to dick. my tail's all muddy, and he'll have two hours' hard work dressing me for the parade." the big parade of all the thirty thousand men was held that afternoon, and vixen and i had a good place close to the viceroy and the amir of afghanistan, with his high big black hat of astrakhan wool and the great diamond star in the center. the first part of the review was all sunshine, and the regiments went by in wave upon wave of legs all moving together, and guns all in a line, till our eyes grew dizzy. then the cavalry came up, to the beautiful cavalry canter of "bonnie dundee," and vixen cocked her ear where she sat on the dog-cart. the second squadron of the lancers shot by, and there was the troop-horse, with his tail like spun silk, his head pulled into his breast, one ear forward and one back, setting the time for all his squadron, his legs going as smoothly as waltz-music. then the big guns came by, and i saw two tails and two other elephants harnessed in line to a forty-pounder siege-gun while twenty yoke of oxen walked behind. the seventh pair had a new yoke, and they looked rather stiff and tired. last came the screw-guns, and billy the mule carried himself as though he commanded all the troops, and his harness was oiled and polished till it winked. i gave a cheer all by myself for billy the mule, but he never looked right or left. the rain began to fall again, and for a while it was too misty to see what the troops were doing. they had made a big half-circle across the plain, and were spreading out into a line. that line grew and grew and grew till it was three-quarters of a mile long from wing to wing--one solid wall of men, horses, and guns. then it came on straight toward the viceroy and the amir, and as it got nearer the ground began to shake, like the deck of a steamer when the engines are going fast. unless you have been there you cannot imagine what a frightening effect this steady come-down of troops has on the spectators, even when they know it is only a review. i looked at the amir. up till then he had not shown the shadow of a sign of astonishment or anything else; but now his eyes began to get bigger and bigger, and he picked up the reins on his horse's neck and looked behind him. for a minute it seemed as though he were going to draw his sword and slash his way out through the english men and women in the carriages at the back. then the advance stopped dead, the ground stood still, the whole line saluted, and thirty bands began to play all together. that was the end of the review, and the regiments went off to their camps in the rain; and an infantry band struck up with- the animals went in two by two, hurrah! the animals went in two by two, the elephant and the battery mu l', and they all got into the ark, for to get out of the rain! then i heard an old, grizzled, long-haired central asian chief, who had come down with the amir, asking questions of a native officer. [illustration: "then i heard an old, grizzled, long-haired, central asian chief asking questions of a native officer."] "now," said he, "in what manner was this wonderful thing done?" and the officer answered, "there was an order, and they obeyed." "but are the beasts as wise as the men?" said the chief. "they obey, as the men do. mule, horse, elephant, or bullock, he obeys his driver, and the driver his sergeant, and the sergeant his lieutenant, and the lieutenant his captain, and the captain his major, and the major his colonel, and the colonel his brigadier commanding three regiments, and the brigadier his general, who obeys the viceroy, who is the servant of the empress. thus it is done." "would it were so in afghanistan!" said the chief; "for there we obey only our own wills." "and for that reason," said the native officer, twirling his mustache, "your amir whom you do not obey must come here and take orders from our viceroy." parade-song of the camp animals elephants of the gun-team we lent to alexander the strength of hercules, the wisdom of our foreheads, the cunning of our knees; we bowed our necks to service; they ne'er were loosed again,- make way there, way for the ten-foot teams of the forty-pounder train! gun-bullocks those heroes in their harnesses avoid a cannon-ball, and what they know of powder upsets them one and all; then _we_ come into action and tug the guns again,- make way there, way for the twenty yoke of the forty-pounder train! cavalry horses by the brand on my withers, the finest of tunes is played by the lancers, hussars, and dragoons, and it's sweeter than "stables" or "water" to me, the cavalry canter of "bonnie dundee"! then feed us and break us and handle and groom, and give us good riders and plenty of room, and launch us in column of squadrons and see the way of the war-horse to "bonnie dundee"! screw-gun mules as me and my companions were scrambling up a hill, the path was lost in rolling stones, but we went forward still; for we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up everywhere, and it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare! good luck to every sergeant, then, that lets us pick our road; bad luck to all the driver-men that cannot pack a load: for we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up everywhere, and it's our delight on a mountain height with a leg or two to spare! commissariat camels we haven't a camelty tune of our own to help us trollop along, but every neck is a hairy trombone (_rtt-ta-ta-ta!_ is a hairy trombone!) and this is our marching song: _can't! don't! shan't! won't!_ pass it along the line! somebody's pack has slid from his back, wish it were only mine! somebody's load has tipped off in the road- cheer for a halt and a row! _urrr! yarrh! grr! arrh!_ somebody's catching it now! all the beasts together children of the camp are we, serving each in his degree; children of the yoke and goad, pack and harness, pad and load. see our line across the plain, like a heel-rope bent again. reaching, writhing, rolling far, sweeping all away to war! while the men that walk beside, dusty, silent, heavy-eyed, cannot tell why we or they march and suffer day by day. _children of the camp are we,_ _serving each in his degree;_ _children of the yoke and goad,_ _pack and harness, pad and load._ transcriber's notes: passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_. small caps were replaced with all caps. throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. those words were retained as-is. the illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs and so that they are next the text they illustrate. thus the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in the list of illustrations, and the order of illustrations may not be the same in the list of illustrations and in the book. on page 78, "bandar log" was replaced with "bandar-log". on page 80, a period was added after "leave to hunt here". on page 156, "novastoshna" was replaced with "novastoshnah". on page 171, "floam-flecked" was replaced with "foam-flecked". on page 299, there is a hyphen at the end of a line of poetry. that hyphen seems to be deliberate, and was kept as-is. [illustration: then the spear flashed in the torchlight.] _guy in the jungle_ or _a boy's adventure in the wilds of africa_ by _william murray graydon._ _author of "jungles and traitors", "in barracks and wigwam", "the camp in the snow", etc._ chicago: m. a. donohue & co. copyrighted 1890, by frank a. munsey copyrighted, 1902, by thompson & thomas the river of darkness. prologue. it was november in london. the great city was buried under a dank, yellow fog. traffic was temporarily checked; foot passengers groped their way by the light of the street lamps, and the hoarse shouts of the link boys running before cabs and carriages with blazing torches rang at intervals above the muffled rumble of countless wheels. in the coffee-room of a quiet hotel on the strand a young man stands by the window, looking pensively out on the misty street. he is quite young, with light hair that falls half over his forehead, and a drooping, golden mustache, and in rather startling contrast to these a deep-bronzed complexion that tells of foreign lands and tropical suns. "captain chutney, sir?" it is a hotel servant, with a big blue envelope in his hand, and, as the young man wheels round, he reveals the uniform and bright facings of a captain of hussars. "yes, i am captain chutney," he replies to the servant. "thank you," and, taking the blue document, he stands for a moment in deep thoughtfulness. well may he hesitate to break that official seal which glares up at him so broadly. were the gift of futurity his, and could he see mirrored before him the dread panorama of events that are inevitably linked with that innocent-looking missive, he would fling it with horror-stricken hands into the coal-fire that burns on the grate beside him. but no disturbing thought enters his mind. the future looks bright and cheerful enough just at present, and ripping open the end of the envelope without breaking the seal, he pulls out a folded paper and reads: colonial office, downing street, s. w. to captain guy chutney: your immediate presence is requested on urgent affairs. (signed) ------ secretary of state for colonial affairs. chutney looks with some surprise at the famous signature attached with a bold hand. he places the letter in his pocket, pushes open a swinging door at the left, and vanishes up a broad stairway. in five minutes he reappears, clad in a big mackintosh, and, calling a cab, he rattles off westward through the fog. he is not in the best of humors. he had made other plans for the day, for his furlough is up, and tomorrow he leaves for india to rejoin his regiment. he had come up yesterday from the country, where he had put in a week at grouse hunting with his brother, sir lucas chutney, and today he intended bidding good-by to old friends, and to attend to the making of a few purchases. downing street is not far away, and presently the cab rolls into whitehall and draws up before the big granite building. guy makes his way through the spacious corridors thronged with clerks, civilians, foreigners from every part of the globe, and at last reaches the private apartments of the chief. the right honorable lord is deeply engaged, but his private secretary receives chutney cordially, and, leading him back into a still more secluded and stately apartment, motions him to a soft chair and sits down opposite him. "captain chutney," he begins abruptly, "you leave for india tomorrow?" "india mail, eight o'clock in the morning," guy replies briefly. "very well. we are going to intrust you with a very important commission. you will stop off at aden, cross the gulf of aden in the semi-weekly steamer, and present these documents to sir arthur ashby, the political resident of zaila, the fortified town of the somali coast protectorate." the secretary hands guy two bulky envelopes, stamped and sealed with the government seal. "they relate to affairs of importance," he continues. "your gallant record justifies us in intrusting the papers to your care. you can return in time to take the next steamer. perhaps i had better tell you this much in confidence," the secretary adds: "we have received from certain sources information to the effect that the emir of harar, on the southern harbor of abyssinia, contemplates at no distant date an attack on zaila. our garrison there is weak, and, as you probably know, the somali country is treacherous and unreliable. these papers contain necessary instructions for the political resident." the secretary rises, and guy gladly follows his example. "i will see that the papers are delivered," he says earnestly. "thank you," the secretary responded. "i am sure that you will. i wish you a safe voyage, captain chutney, and fresh burmese laurels, for you will no doubt take part in the chittagong expedition." they shake hands warmly, and in five minutes guy is rattling cityward again through the increasing fog. long afterward he looks back on that morning as the most memorable day of his life. at present his commission sits lightly on his mind. he attends to all his duties in london, catches the india mail, and two days later is steaming across the mediterranean on board the p. and o. steamship cleopatra. chapter i. the stolen despatches. steadily the cleopatra had traversed the mediterranean, passed through the suez canal, plowed the burning waters of the red sea, and now, on this bright, sultry day, aden was left behind, and with smoking funnels she was heading swiftly and boldly for the indian ocean. a smaller steamer, a mere pigmy beside this gigantic indian liner, had left the harbor of aden at the same time, and was beating in a southwesterly direction across the gulf with a speed that was rapidly increasing the distance between the two vessels. on the upper deck stood guy chutney, straining his eyes through a pair of field-glasses to catch a last glimpse of the cleopatra, and to distinguish, if possible, the figures grouped under the white awnings. he had only arrived at aden last night, and now he was bound for the dreary african coast, while all the gay friends he had made on board the cleopatra were steaming merrily off for calcutta without him. it was by no means a comforting state of affairs, and guy's spirits were at their lowest ebb as the steamer finally faded into the horizon. he put up the glasses and strode forward. from the lower deck came a confused babel of sounds, a harsh jabbering of foreign languages that grated roughly on his ear. "this is a remarkably fine day, sir." it was the captain who spoke, a bluff, hearty man, who looked oddly out of place in white linen and a solar topee. "it is a grand day," said guy. "may i ask when we are due at zaila?" "at zaila?" repeated the captain, with a look of sudden surprise. "ah, yes. possibly tomorrow, probably not until the following day." it was now guy's turn to be surprised. "do you mean to tell me," he said, "that it takes two or three days to cross the gulf of aden?" "no," replied the captain briskly. "you are surely aware, my dear sir, that we proceed first to berbera, and thence up the coast to zaila." "then you have deceived me, sir," cried guy hotly. "you told me this morning that this steamer went to zaila." "certainly i did," replied the captain. "you didn't ask for any more information, or i should have told you that we went to berbera first. the great annual fair has just opened at berbera, and i have on board large stores of merchandise and trading properties. on other occasions i go to zaila first, but during the progress of the fair i always go direct to berbera and unload. i supposed that fact to be generally understood," and, turning on his heel, the captain walked off to give some orders to his men. guy was half inclined to be angry at first, but on reflection he concluded he was just as well satisfied. besides, it would give him a chance to see that wonderful african fair, which he now remembered to have heard about on different occasions. but one other person was visible on the deck, a short, chunky man, with a dark complexion, and crafty, forbidding features. a portuguese or a spaniard guy put him down for at once, and he instantly conceived a deep mistrust of him. the fellow, however, was inclined to be sociable. "ah, an englishman," he said, coming up to guy and holding out his hand, an action which guy professed not to see. "you are going to berbera, perhaps," he went on, nowise discomfited by the rebuff. "no," said guy shortly. "to zaila." "ah, yes, zaila! you have friends there, perhaps? i, too, am acquainted. i know very well sir arthur ashby, the governor at zaila." his keen eyes scanned guy's face closely, and noted the faint gleam of surprise at this information. but guy was too clever to be thrown off his guard. "yes," he said. "i know some people here. i have not the pleasure of sir arthur's acquaintance." he would have turned away at this point, but the man pulled a card from his pocket and presented it to him. guy glanced it over with interest: c. manuel torres, _trader at aden and berbera_. "a vile portuguese slave-hunter," he thought to himself. "well, mr. torres," he said. "i am sorry that i have no cards about me, but my name is chutney." the portuguese softly whispered the name once or twice. then, without further questioning, he offered guy a cigar, and lit one himself. manuel torres proved to be quite an interesting companion, and gave guy a vivid account of the wonders of the fair. as they went below at dinner time he pointed out on the corner of the dock a great stack of wooden boxes. "those are mine," he said. "they contain iron and steel implements for the natives and arabs." "they look like rifle cases," guy remarked carelessly; and, looking at the portuguese as he spoke, he fancied that the dark face actually turned gray for an instant. in a moment they were seated at the table, and the brief occurrence was forgotten. all that afternoon they steamed on across the gulf, overhead the blue and cloudless sky, beneath them waters of even deeper blue, and at sunset the yellow coast line of the african continent loomed up from the purple distance. guy had been dozing under an awning most of the afternoon, but now he came forward eagerly to get his first glimpse of eastern africa. to his great disappointment, the captain refused to land. it was risky, he said, to make a landing at night, and it would be dark when they entered the harbor. they must lie at anchor till morning. most of the night guy paced up and down the deck sleeping at brief intervals, and listening with eager curiosity to the strange sounds that floated out on the air from the shore, where the flickering glare of many torches could be seen. stretched on a mattress, the portuguese slept like a log, without once awakening. before dawn the anchors were lifted, and at the captain's suggestion guy hastened down to his cabin to gather up his scanty luggage, for most of his traps had gone on to calcutta in the cleopatra. he buckled on his sword, put his revolvers in his pocket, clapped his big solar topee on his head, and then reached down for the morocco traveling case which he had stored away for better security under his berth. a cry of horror burst from his lips as he dragged it out. the lock was broken, and the sides were flapping apart. for one brief second he stared at it like a madman, and then, with frantic haste, he fell on his knees, and, plunging his hands inside, began to toss the contents recklessly out upon the floor. toilet articles, linen, cigars, writing-paper, jewelry, and various other things piled up until his finger nails scraped the bottom. he turned the case bottom up and shook it savagely, shook it until the silver clasps rattled against the sides, and then he sank back with a groan, while the drops of perspiration chased each other down his haggard cheeks. the precious despatches were gone. for the time being guy was fairly driven out of his senses by the horror of the calamity. ruin stared him in the face. what madness it was to leave those papers in his cabin! he had foolishly hesitated to carry them on his person for fear the perspiration would soak them through and through, and now they were hopelessly lost. the cabin door had been locked, too. the thief must have had a key. the first shock over, his manliness asserted itself, and he took a critical view of the situation. he hardly suspected any person as yet. the despatches must be recovered. that was the first step. he flew up the stairs, three at a time, and rushed panting and breathless upon deck. all about him was the hurry and bustle of preparation. the shore was close at hand, and the steamer was moving toward the rude wharf. manuel torres was leaning over the rail, coolly smoking a cigar. the captain stood near by, gazing intently at the shore. he looked up with wonder as guy appeared, crying out in hoarse tones: "i have been robbed, captain, treacherously robbed. documents of the greatest importance have been stolen from my cabin, and not a soul shall leave this steamer till every inch of it has been searched. i demand your assistance, sir!" chapter ii. a strange meeting. torres looked up in apparent surprise from his cigar, and the captain's ruddy face flashed a shade deeper. "are you sure, sir?" he cried. "this is a strange place for a robbery." guy turned on him hotly. "a robbery has been committed, nevertheless, and the articles stolen are despatches for the governor of zaila. they were intrusted to me for delivery, and i look to you to recover them." "ah! government despatches, were they?" said the captain. "just step below and we'll look into the matter." they turned toward the cabin, leaving the portuguese still gazing over the rail. at the foot of the steps the captain stopped. "why, what's this?" he said, stooping down and pulling from under the lowest step a bunch of papers. "the stolen despatches!" cried guy wildly. "but look! the seals have been broken." together they inspected the documents. each envelope had been opened, but the contents appeared to be all right. the thief had plainly been satisfied with their perusal. "whoever stole them," said the captain, "was afraid to retain them lest a search should be made, and as he had no way to destroy them he tossed them down here where they could easily be found." "who else had a key to my cabin?" guy asked sternly. "the key to torres' cabin will open yours," replied the captain, "and several of the crew also have keys." "then torres is the man," said guy. "the scoundrel looks capable of anything." "i wouldn't advise you to accuse him," said the captain gravely. "he may cause trouble for you on shore. you must remember that british influence is little felt at berbera. your best plan is to say nothing, but relate the whole affair to the governor at zaila. and now, as we may lie in the harbor here all day, you had better go on shore. you will see a strange sight." guy put the recovered documents away in an inner pocket, and followed the captain on deck, in a very angry frame of mind. torres had disappeared, but guy felt that he had not seen the last of him. he half forgot his anger in the strange sight that now met his eyes, for the steamer was just approaching the wharf, and in a moment the gang-plank was dropped over the side. he waited until the eager, jostling crowd of arabs had passed over, and then he made his way to shore. the spectacle before him was marvelous and entrancing. extending apparently for miles up and down the yellow stretch of sand that fringed the coast was one great sea of canvas that fluttered under the african breeze. there were tents of every description, some old and dingy, some spotlessly white and shining, and others brilliant in many colors, barred with red and green and yellow, while here and there, from their midst, rose the sun-baked walls and towers of the original berbera, for all this floating canvas belonged to the nomadic population who flock hither from the interior during the fair, and add twenty thousand to the perennial population of the town. dazed as though in a dream, guy moved forward, noting with wonder the strange people who thronged about him and regarded him with evident mistrust. borne on by the crowd, he found himself presently in the main avenue of the fair, and his first amazed impression was that he had been transported to a scene in the "arabian nights." on either side of the narrow street stretched the sea of tents, and before them, on rude stalls, were ranged everything that the imagination could devise: sacks of coffee and grain, great heaps of glittering ivory, packets of gold-dust, aromatic spices, and fragrant gums of all sorts, great bunches of waving ostrich plumes, bales of cotton and tobacco, tanned hides of domestic animals, tawny skins of lions, leopards, and panthers, oddly-woven grass mats, quaint arms, and bits of carving, fetish ornaments, and even live cattle and sheep tied to the poles of the tents. standing guard over their wares were natives from all parts of africa, arabs from the zambesi, savage-looking abyssinians, crafty somalis with greasy, dangling locks, and brawny, half-naked fellows from the interior, the like of whom guy had never seen or heard. and up and down the narrow street moved in a ceaseless throng the traders who had come to purchase: arabs from aden and suakim, egyptians from cairo, traders from zanzibar, and a sprinkling of portuguese and spaniards. some of them bore their goods on camels, others had hired native carriers, who staggered under the heavy bales and cases, and the uproar was deafening and incessant as they wrangled over their bartering and dazzled the eyes of their customers with rolls of english and french silks, pigs of iron, copper, and brass, sacks of rice and sugar, glittering manchester cutlery, american beads, and cans of gunpowder. the builders of the tower of babel itself could not have produced such a jargon or variety of tongues, guy thought, as he picked his way onward, now stopping to gaze at some odd-looking group, and now attracted by the harsh music and beating drums of a band of native musicians. he noted with secret satisfaction the occasional presence in the crowd of a dark-skinned soldier in british uniform, and he observed with some surprise the vast number of abyssinian arabs, whom he recognized by their peculiar dress. finally a stranger sight than all arrested his steps. in a small inclosure, cordoned off by a rope, lay a dozen poor slaves shackled to stakes driven deep in the ground and exposed to the burning sun. their owner, a brawny negro with a head-dress of feathers, a native of the galla country, was disputing over their purchase with a gigantic arab, whose powerful frame irresistibly fascinated guy's attention. he wore a loosely-flapping cotton gown, confined at the waist by a belt that fairly bristled with knives and pistols, while a scarlet burnous was drawn over his head, affording a brilliant set-off to the glittering eyes, the tawny, shining skin, and the short chin-beard and mustache. behind the group of slaves, chained to the pole of a spacious tent, lay a sleek and glossy leopard, sleeping in the sun as unconcernedly as though he were in the midst of his native desert. the arab, unaware probably of the beast's presence, walked slowly round the circle inspecting his prospective purchase. the leopard perhaps was dreaming of the days when he was wont to chase the deer through the jungle, for suddenly his spotted body quivered and his long tail shot out like a stiffened serpent. the arab's sandaled foot came down on the tapering end, and with a scream of rage the beast sprang up. overcome by a sudden fright, the arab staggered backward a pace, and like a flash the leopard shot to the end of his chain, and fastening teeth and claws on the unfortunate man's neck, bore him to the ground. panic-stricken, those who stood near made no move. the big negro danced wildly up and down, keeping well out of reach of his savage pet, and the slaves howled with fright. an instant's delay and the man was lost. suddenly guy drew his revolver and sprang forward. the negro uttered a howl and tried to push him back, but guy forced his way past him, and pressing the revolver close to the brute's head pulled the trigger. it was a good shot. the leopard rolled over lifeless, and the arab, with guy's assistance, rose to his feet very dazed, while the blood dripped down from his lacerated back. instantly the scene changed. the negro, angered at the death of his leopard, advanced menacingly on guy with a drawn knife, and in response to his summons other negroes rallied to his aid. but the arab, too, had friends in the crowd, and they, pressing forward in turn, made it seem as though a bloody conflict were inevitable. just as the issue was trembling in the balance, a shout arose from the crowded street. "the white man! make room for the white man!" and through the parted ranks guy saw advancing a bronzed englishman in white flannels and helmet. the stranger pushed right in through the sullen group of negroes until he reached the open space before the tent, and stood face to face with guy. their eyes met in one amazed glance that startled the wondering spectators, and then from guy's lips burst a glad, hoarse cry: "melton forbes, or i am dreaming!" "chutney, by jove! my dear fellow, can it be possible?" all else forgotten in their deep joy of meeting, the two bronzed englishmen fell into each other's arms, and the arabs and negroes, dimly comprehending what it all meant, shouted in sympathy and lowered their arms. chapter iii. the arab's warning. for a little while the british officer and the british newspaper correspondent could do nothing but stand off to look at each other, and then embrace again as though it were hard to believe that it was not all a dream. the arabs and negroes had drawn to one side, and the big savage was wrathfully inspecting the body of the leopard. "come," said melton, plucking guy's arm, "we will find a quiet place where we can talk in peace." the crowd made way for them, but before they had taken half a dozen steps the big arab staggered forward and seized guy by the hand. "you brave man," he cried. "makar never forget." he kept on with many protestations of gratitude until guy tried to withdraw in embarrassment. "wait," said the arab. "come along. me tell you something." he fairly dragged guy back to the entrance of the tent where none could hear, and bending low he whispered in his ear: "berbera no place for inglis man this day. better go away, quick. heed what makar tell you. now go." he fairly pushed guy from him, and the latter, joining melton, who had witnessed the scene with the greatest curiosity, led the way out into the street. a curious crowd followed them closely for some distance, and not a word was spoken until they had turned off into a side avenue lined with low mud buildings. "now," said melton quickly, "i need not tell you, my dear fellow, what a pleasant surprise this meeting has been, but all explanation must be deferred to a more suitable time. you have made a friend and an enemy today, for makar makalo is the most powerful arab in the whole somali country, while that big negro is oko sain, the head chief of all the gallas who dwell two hundred miles back from the coast. what did makar tell you?" guy repeated the arab's warning, and melton stood for a moment in deep thought. "i suspected as much," he said finally. "never before have there been so many arabs and somalis from the interior at berbera. only yesterday a caravan of two thousand camels arrived from harar in the galla country. something is wrong, i have felt certain, and now makar confirms my fears." a glimmering suspicion of the truth flashed over guy's mind at this juncture, but he hesitated to speak. "now then," continued melton, "this can mean nothing but a massacre. the only soldiers in the place are about sixty of the bombay infantry, who were sent down here from zaila, and as for the fortifications, they are nothing but a few mud walls. there they lie yonder," and he pointed to an english flag floating over the house-tops some distance away. "we are only wasting time here," he added. "we'll look about a little and then i'll decide what to do. i don't want to raise any false alarm." they turned back to the main avenue. the crowds still surged up and down, and the tumult seemed as harsh and discordant as ever, but the place had nevertheless undergone a change since they had left it a short time before. little bartering was going on, and but few arabs and somalis were to be seen. those on the street were mostly harmless traders from aden and cairo. "what has become of all the arabs?" asked guy. "that is just what i want to know," said melton; "i'll soon find out, though. walk as fast as you can now, chutney, and look as unconcerned as possible." melton led the way down the street for a little distance, and, turning into a side passage, soon stopped before a low, one-story building. a dark-skinned fellow clad in ordinary egyptian costume stood in the doorway, and with a cry of surprise guy recognized mombagolo, forbes' trusty savage servant, who did much good service for them when they were in burma together. their greeting was brief and hasty. "i have work for you, momba," said melton. "something is going on in the town, i don't know just what. you can go anywhere without being suspected. find out what you can, and then come down to the wharf. don't return here." the man hastened away at once, and then guy and melton started for the shore. "i won't give any alarm at the garrison," said forbes, as they hurried along. "i'll wait till momba reports. i don't suppose anything is contemplated before nightfall at the earliest, and, as the troops are scattered, it would only precipitate matters if i should have them called in." the last bale of goods was being unloaded from the steamer when they reached the wharf. the captain and officers were smoking cigars against the rail, and catching sight of guy, the former called out: "don't forget now. six o'clock sharp." guy nodded, and followed melton to one side, where the two sat down on a bale of cotton. melton briefly explained how he came to be at berbera. after his return from burma, he had been dispatched as war correspondent of the london _post_ to suakim, which town was at that time threatened by the mahdi. mombagolo, or momba as melton now called him, had become his faithful servant, and a week ago, the war-scare at suakim having subsided, melton had come to berbera to write up the great fair for his paper. then guy, in his turn, simply stated that he had stopped off on his way to india to execute a commission at zaila. he made no reference to the dispatches, feeling doubtful whether it would be proper or not, for a government secret is a thing of weighty importance. the conversation drifted to their perilous adventures in burma, and the time passed on unheeded. at last melton glanced up. "do you observe how quiet it is?" he exclaimed. "and look! there are but few people in sight." it was indeed quiet. a dead, oppressive calm had settled on the sea; not a breeze rustled, not a ripple broke the glassy surface of the water, and from the town, instead of the loud babel of cries, came only a low murmur like a distant waterfall. a strange calm indeed, the calm that serves as precursor to the unseen storm. suddenly, with startling abruptness, a rifle-shot broke the silence with its shuddering echoes. guy and melton sprang to their feet. the officers on the steamer crowded to the rail, up in the town dark figures ran to and fro, a soldier in bright uniform was seen speeding toward the garrison, and now plunging madly toward the wharf came a white clad figure, pursued by a howling group of somali warriors, who brandished long spears and daggers. a shot from melton's pistol brought them to a sudden halt, and momba, for it was indeed he, ran a few paces and fell breathless at his master's feet. "what fiendishness is this?" shouted the captain furiously, from the deck of the steamer. momba staggered to his knees. "the arabs!" he cried. "they are coming--they have rifles--the portuguese--he broke open long boxes--and handed out guns--makar's men all have them--the somalis have them--they have plenty shells--" guy ground his teeth. "the infernal scoundrel!" he cried. "so that's what those long boxes of his contained!" "you mean torres?" exclaimed melton. "i know the villain. he is a partner of makar makalo's. but come. we must fight our way to the garrison." alas! too late! bang--bang, bang--bang, a fusillade of rifle-fire rang out from the town, hideous yells of triumph mingled with cries of despair and agony, and over the garrison walls floated a constantly increasing cloud of white smoke. the firing deepened, and a hoarse yell arose as the english flag, shot from its staff, fluttered down into the curling smoke. "they are murdering the garrison!" cried melton. he grasped a revolver in each hand, and would have gone madly forward, but at that moment a louder tumult burst forth close at hand, and swarming down the crooked street, curving in and out through the tents and heaped-up stalls, came a fierce and frantic horde of arabs and somalis, waving rifles and spears, and yelling like ten thousand fiends. "on board for your lives!" shouted the captain, and as guy and melton dashed over the gang-plank, followed by momba, a kick from the captain sent it whirling down into the water. providentially steam was up, slowly the engines started, the screw revolved, and just as the steamer moved lazily out into the harbor, the enraged mob swept to the very edge of the wharf. in futile rage they let fly showers of spears and a scattering rifle-fire that pierced and shattered the woodwork of the vessel, but fortunately without effect, for every man had got safely below. chapter iv. the alarm. they rushed upon deck again as soon as the steamer was beyond rifle-shot. a distant roar, like the blended shouts of thousands of people, floated across the water from the town, and at intervals a shot was fired. smoke no longer hovered over the garrison. the last man had succumbed, and with the fall of the garrison the massacre seemed to have come to an end. the uprising had been directed against the british troops alone. "this is a terrible thing," said melton, "and there is something back of it all. i can't understand it. can it be possible the wretches have designs on zaila, i wonder? it's a pity you interfered with that leopard, chutney. if makar makalo had perished, this revolt might never have broken out. makar is at the head of it, i know, and possibly he has influence behind him. he is an ally of that fanatical despot, rao khan, the emir of harar, who hates the english worse than poison, and--" guy started at the mention of this name. "i want to see you a minute, forbes," he cried excitedly; and, leading melton to one side, he pulled out the despatches from his pocket, and said, "you have come closer to the truth than you imagine. i am going to confide a secret to you, and you can tell what had best be done. these papers were intrusted to me for delivery into the hands of sir arthur ashby, at zaila, and they contain instructions bearing on the very matter you have just mentioned. the authorities at the colonial office in london told me in secret that the emir of harar was supposed to be plotting the capture of zaila, and these despatches contain sir arthur's orders in case of that emergency." "by jove, that explains it!" cried melton. "the emergency has come. i see it all. makar had collected his arabs and somalis at berbera by the emir's orders, and they were only waiting the arrival of that villainous portuguese with the rifles. they have put the garrison at berbera out of the way, and now they will march on to zaila." "then what can be done?" demanded guy. "shall we proceed to zaila, or get the captain to steam direct for aden and collect all the available troops?" "no, no," groaned forbes. "that would be useless. zaila is sixty miles up the coast. we can beat the arabs, and get there in time to prepare the town for defense. the garrison is wretchedly small, but they will have to hold out until assistance can come from aden." melton was still more astounded when guy told him of the stealing of the despatches. "then torres knows their contents," he said, "and he will act accordingly. this is certainly a bad business, chutney. those papers must be delivered to sir arthur as soon as possible, though, to tell the truth, i fear zaila is doomed. but we are losing precious time. something must be done at once." they called the captain aside, and told him just enough to impress him with the danger threatening zaila, and he readily fell in with their plans. twilight was now falling, and by the time darkness had settled over the blue waters of the gulf the steamer was plowing her way steadily northward, berbera but faintly visible in the rear by the glow of the burning torches. hour after hour they steamed on. neither guy nor melton could sleep, but sitting aft on camp stools they talked in whispers of the dread events they had witnessed, and of what might be before them. at midnight the steamer came to a sudden stop. the machinery, exerted to the highest pressure, had broken in some part. a delay was inevitable, the captain assured them, but in a couple of hours the repairs could be made. morning came, revealing the distant yellow line of the african coast, but still the steamer lay at anchor, rocking gently in the early morning breeze. it may be imagined with what a fever of impatience guy and melton lived through those weary hours. it was nearly midday when the repairs were completed, and the vessel forged ahead again. for fear of fresh accidents, the captain refused to crowd on steam, and when at last the turrets and brown walls of zaila came in view, it was late in the afternoon. at a distance, all seemed peaceful; the english flag was floating from half a dozen different buildings of the town. in the harbor lay three or four arab dhows and a neat little steamer, which the captain said belonged to the governor, and was used for transporting troops or despatches. captain waller anchored close by the town, and accompanied guy, melton, and momba on shore in a small boat. so far, at least, all was well. a few arabs and somalis were sitting around lazily on the sand, and troops of the bombay infantry were seen moving about the streets. "appear as unconscious as possible," whispered melton. "let nothing be suspected." a close observer might have detected traces of suppressed curiosity on the faces of the arabs and somalis, but they were evidently deceived by the careless manner of the new arrivals, for after a keen scrutiny they settled back into lazy attitudes. "i don't like the looks of those fellows," said melton, "and another thing i don't like is the presence of those arab dhows in the harbor. but look, chutney, there is the residency ahead of us." they were approaching a low building of sun-baked brick, with venetian awnings at the entrance and windows. half a dozen sentries were on guard, and an officer came forward to meet the little party. guy saluted. "i am the bearer of important despatches for the governor of zaila," he said, "and must see him at once." the officer disappeared for a moment, and presently came back and announced that the governor would see them. they were ushered in through a wide hall, and, passing half along its length, they turned to the right, and found themselves in the presence of sir arthur ashby. he was a very pompous looking man of middle age, with reddish mustache, and long side whiskers. he was seated on an easy chair beside an ebony table. opposite him sat an english officer. they were smoking cigars, and on the table were glasses and champagne bottles packed in ice. lamps were lit, for already twilight was falling. he half arose as his visitors entered, and then dropped back. guy briefly introduced himself and party, and handed sir arthur the despatches, explaining how the seals came to be broken, but making no mention of torres. the governor knit his brow as he read them over, and then, to his companion, he remarked lightly, "all nonsense, all nonsense. another government scare, carrington." "i beg your pardon, sir arthur," said guy, "but i was informed in london of the tenor of those despatches. yesterday afternoon the arabs at berbera massacred the garrison to a man, and are doubtless now marching on zaila. we barely escaped with our lives. captain waller and mr. forbes and his servant will confirm my statement." sir arthur sprang to his feet with a sharp cry. "what is this you tell me?" he gasped. "can it be true?" guy repeated his account, with all the particulars, but the governor actually seemed incredulous. "colonel carrington," he cried, "how many troops have we?" "five companies of the bombay infantry," replied the colonel in a hollow tone. "we had six yesterday, but if this account be true--" "don't delay a moment," shouted sir arthur; "prepare for the defense, colonel, and see that the steamer is ready in case it comes to the worst." the governor's condition was now truly pitiable. he was trembling with fright. "there is indeed but little time," said guy. "there is danger at your very door. i see many arabs and somalis in the town." "true, true," groaned sir arthur, and, turning over the despatches with trembling hands, he added, "i am instructed to order troops from cairo and suakim. what madness! what madness!" sir arthur continued to talk in a rambling, excited way until colonel carrington assumed control of affairs. "your steamer is here now?" he said to the captain. "then you must make haste to aden, and bring us what troops you can. i doubt, though, if we can resist a heavy attack for twenty-four hours. and you, gentlemen, you will return on the steamer?" "no, we will remain," guy and melton replied almost in one voice. the colonel glanced at them approvingly. "you are brave men," he said. "stop!" he added suddenly. "you say you left berbera at sunset last night, and were delayed by an accident. were there any camels there?" "a caravan of two thousand arrived two days ago," replied melton. the colonel's face paled. "then the enemy are due here now," he said huskily. "on camels they could traverse the sixty miles in from fifteen to twenty hours. it is already dark," and he pointed out through the window. at this sir arthur groaned aloud, and tossed down three or four glasses of champagne in rapid succession. "to your steamer, quick!" cried the colonel, addressing captain waller; "and you, gentlemen, since you decide to throw your fate in with ours, come with me, and we will inspect the fortifications, and do what little we can." they had risen to their feet, and were giving a hasty look to their arms, when a bright flash lit up the gloom from without, followed by a sharp report, and at the same moment, from all quarters of the town, rose a continuous rifle-firing, a violent uproar and shouting, and a deep beating of drums. sir arthur sprang to his feet, crying frantically, "to the steamer, to the steamer--it is our only hope;" but before he could take a step the outer doors were burst open, shouts were heard in the hall, and then, through the curtained entrance, staggered blindly an officer of infantry, his uniform torn and disheveled, and blood pouring from half a dozen wounds. he plunged forward, and rolled in a lifeless heap at the very feet of colonel carrington. chapter v. the night on the roof. the tragic scene described at the close of the preceding chapter, following on the very heels of the outbreak, was a fearful shock to all who saw it, and for an instant they could only stare at one another with mute, frightened faces. colonel carrington broke the spell. with drawn sword he made a dash for the door, closely followed by the rest, but before they could cross the apartment a louder burst of firing came from the very courtyard, bullets whistled through the windows, and then a scuffle began in the hall, and angry voices were heard. it was over in a moment; a cry of pain, a low groan, followed by the sound of bars dropped in their sockets, and then into the room burst three hindoo soldiers, grimy with blood and powder. "sahib colonel," cried the foremost, "we are lost. the arabs and somalis have revolted. hundreds of them surround the residency. yonder in the hall lies a dead somali. we have barred the doors, but they will soon be in." even as he spoke the portals shook under a succession of thunderous blows. "the rear door," cried the colonel. "we may escape that way." "no, no; the building is surrounded," rejoined the hindoo. "there is no escape." he was right. shouts were heard on all sides, the blows on the doors redoubled, and stray shots came in at the windows, both front and rear. sir arthur lay prostrate in his chair. "the roof! the roof!" he groaned. "we must take to the roof." "by jove, he's right," cried the colonel. "it's our last hope. blow out the lights and come on, quick!" the lamps were out in a second, but a dim glare still shone into the room from the torches outside. with an effort, sir arthur staggered to his feet. two of the soldiers assisted him, and then in great haste they hurried through the hall to a rear room. the building was of one story, and from this apartment a ladder led to an open trap overhead. sir arthur was pushed up first, followed closely by the rest, and just as momba brought up the rear and dragged the ladder after him, the great residency doors gave way with a crash, and a wild yell of triumph told only too plainly that the enemy had effected an entrance. guy's quick eye observed a big flat stone lying near, a precautionary measure provided by some former governor, no doubt, and, calling on momba to assist him, he dragged it over the trap. from below came a rush of footsteps and the sound of smashing furniture as the arabs hurried to and fro in search of their prey. "we are safe for the present," said the colonel; "they can't possibly reach us, and they may not even discover where we are." the roof comprised the whole extent of the building, and was probably thirty feet square. it was surrounded by a stone parapet three feet in height, and from this parapet the little band of fugitives witnessed a scene that none forgot to his dying day. north and west of the residency the town seemed to be in comparative quiet and darkness, for only stray lights were to be seen at intervals. but off to the south lay the fortifications, and here a sharp conflict was waging. through the darkness of the night the flash of every shot was seen, and all along the line blazed out three continuous sheets of flame as the beleaguered garrison poured their fire into the attacking parties that advanced from both sides. "they can't hold out an hour," said melton. "the foe are too strong for them." a sharp cry from captain waller turned all eyes on the harbor, where the water was illumined by twinkling lights and the flash of rifles. the meaning of this was plain. the steamer had been attacked. no doubt those innocent looking dhows had been filled with armed arabs, waiting for the signal, and now every escape was cut off. the firing was sharp and severe for a while, and then it gave way to loud cheers. the steamers had fallen into the hands of the enemy. "there goes the last hope," said the colonel; "and look, even the garrison has succumbed." it was true. the firing had almost entirely ceased, and the few stray shots that still rang out were drowned in the vast roar that rose from all parts of the town. the residency was cordoned by a surging mass of wretches, intoxicated with triumph, and fresh hordes came pouring in, riotous from the slaughter of the garrison. "some cunning fiend has planned all this," muttered colonel carrington, "and planned it infernally well, too." "the arab, makar makalo, is the ringleader, sir," said melton, "but he is only acting for rao khan, the emir of harar, who has long desired the port of zaila." "a swift retribution will come," replied the colonel, "but it will come too late to aid us." no person seemed inclined to talk. sir arthur sat up against the parapet in a sort of stupor, the three hindoos were grouped on one side, and momba mutely followed his master from point to point, as with guy and the colonel he made the circuit of the housetop. and now for the first time it became evident that the presence of the fugitives on the roof was known. thousands of arabs and somalis surrounded the building, their dark faces plainly seen in the glare of the torches, but no hostile demonstration was made. they appeared to be waiting on something or someone. it was very evident that the whole population of the town was in revolt. it was equally plain, too, that they had been prepared for this uprising, for it had apparently broken out in all quarters of the town at once, and the expected signal had no doubt been the approach of the arabs from berbera, for the vast number of rifles used in the fight proved conclusively their arrival. wonderful success had crowned their plans. yesterday the garrison at berbera had fallen to a man; and now zaila was in their hands, and all that remained of the british possessors was the miserable band of fugitives on the residency roof. with bitter feelings guy looked down on the sea of faces. he was wondering if he would ever see calcutta or england again. but he had been in bad predicaments before, and, hopeless as it now seemed, something might turn up to save them yet. melton was inclined to think that the arabs were only waiting for daylight to make their attack, and yet they seemed to have no idea of abandoning their position, but encircled the building with a sea of torches, talking loudly and excitedly all the while. once guy ventured to peer down over the parapet, and to his surprise he saw arab guards at the residency door, sternly keeping back the crowd. then he pulled aside the stone from the trap. all was dark and quiet beneath. the solution to this mystery was close at hand. of a sudden a great hush fell on the vast crowd, the tumult died away to a low murmur, and from the outskirts came a strange sound, at first low and indistinct, and then louder and more vivid, like the tinkling of bells mingled with the trampling of hoofs. the arabs and somalis fell silently apart, leaving open a wide passage like a swath cut through a field of standing corn that led straight to the residency doors. up this triumphal avenue trotted a dozen stalwart arabs bearing lighted torches, and directly behind came a gigantic camel, decorated with gorgeous trappings and hung with strings of silver bells. and on the camel's back, gazing haughtily around him, sat the arab, makar makalo. "behold makar makalo, the new ruler of zaila!" cried the heralds, and from the vast crowd burst one universal shout of satisfaction. chapter vi. a fate worse than death. at the sight of the daring arab chief guy could scarcely restrain himself. he would have drawn his revolver and shot him down then and there, but colonel carrington interfered. "don't excite them," he said cautiously; "their punishment is sure in the end. how can they defend zaila against the british gunboats that will be sent here? we have possibly a chance for our lives yet. don't destroy that last chance." the colonel plainly had strong hopes. it is well enough in some cases to fight to the very last, and have your names printed in the army list as heroes who died at their post, but in this case the safety of sir arthur was plainly the important point, and any concession must be made to secure this. so all idea of making a fight of it was given up. short and brief would have been the struggle for guy and melton, as the three hindoos were the only ones armed, and they had but a scant supply of ammunition. makar held a short conversation with three or four arabs, and then, slipping down from his camel, he walked off a little from the residency and shouted loudly, "inglis men, come down. you no be killed. you prisoners of war." the idea of makar's investing this bloody outbreak with all the dignity of legitimate warfare was ridiculous, and the colonel laughed. "what's that about prisoners?" cried sir arthur, coming eagerly forward. "will they spare our lives, i wonder? let me talk to the fellow. i'll try to conciliate him." he walked pompously to the parapet and bent over. perhaps the champagne he had drunk had affected his head. at all events he leaned a little too far, and, suddenly losing balance, he toppled over and fell with a thud plump on the heads of two arab sentries at the door. all three came to the ground in a heap, and it was a great relief to the anxious watchers above to see sir arthur stagger to his feet apparently unhurt. the effect on the arabs was electric. the remaining guards glanced up apprehensively, and very speedily changed their location. as for makar, he evidently believed that sir arthur had come down expressly in response to his summons, for he waited for the rest to follow his example. "bless my heart!" muttered sir arthur. "what a narrow escape!" he started toward makar, but two arabs laid hold of him and pulled him roughly to one side. "we'd better go down," said the colonel, and raising his voice he shouted, "do you swear to preserve our lives if we come down?" "by the shades of mohammed, i swear it. come down," replied makar. "we'll have to trust to his word," said the colonel. "put the ladder in position." the ladder, with one end on the ground, failed to reach the top of the parapet by four or five feet. it was a ticklish business to drop down on the upper round, but one by one they accomplished it, and, descending to the ground, were speedily seized and relieved of everything on their persons. perhaps makar doubted his ability to keep his word, for he hurried his prisoners into the residency, away from the turbulent crowd, and left them in the hall in custody of a dozen armed arabs. they had not been here five minutes when a commotion was heard outside, and the shattered doors were pulled apart to admit half a dozen weary, blood stained soldiers of the garrison. they were the last survivors, and they told a fearful story. the fortifications had been attacked, they said, at the same time by the population of the town on one side, and on the south by a vast horde of arabs and somalis, who suddenly appeared over the sand-hills mounted on camels. they alone had been made prisoners. all others had been shot, including the officers, the port surgeon, and the native assistant resident. this sad story brought tears to the eyes of all, and even sir arthur waxed terribly indignant and prophesied speedy retribution. but now the guards sternly forbade conversation. an hour or more passed on, during which time many persons indistinguishable in the gloom, passed in and out of the residency. then came a summons to appear before the chief. "don't be alarmed," said sir arthur reassuringly. "we shall be sent across the gulf of aden. this wretch will not dare do injury to her majesty's representatives." sir arthur's sudden change of spirits was not shared by the rest. "nerve yourself," melton whispered to guy. "i have an idea of what is coming," and before guy could reply they were ushered into the very apartment which they had left so hastily a few hours before. it had undergone no change. the lamps had been relit, the wine bottles and glasses still stood on the table, and in sir arthur's chair of state sat makar makalo, very stern and dignified, while around him, squatted on the rugs, were four arabs of superior caste and intelligence, comprising, no doubt, the freshly formed cabinet of the great governor of zaila. makar waited until his captives had ranged themselves along the wall, and then, with great _sang froid_, he helped himself to a cigar from sir arthur's choice box of partagas, lit it, and poured off a glass of champagne which he despatched at a gulp. having thus proved beyond a doubt that he possessed all the chief qualifications of a british political resident, he settled back in his chair and surveyed his prisoners with lowering brow. "bless my heart!" ejaculated sir arthur. "what most amazing impu--" a sudden rap on the head from one of the guards cut short his speech, and he relapsed into indignant silence. makar was plainly a man of iron nerve, for he met calmly and even boldly the indignant, defiant glances that were turned upon him as he scanned the row of prisoners ranged before him. glancing toward the windows he dispersed with a wave of his hand the dark swarm of faces peering eagerly within, and then at last he deigned to break the silence which had become so ominous. "i have promised ye your lives," he said. "makar never breaks his word. allah is great, and it is the will of allah that zaila should belong to the true followers of the prophet. already has his will been fulfilled. the hated inglis soldiers are dead. rao khan is the ruler of zaila, and makar is his servant." he paused and helped himself to another glass of champagne. it was evident that makar was not at heart a true follower of the prophet, for the koran strictly forbids all intoxicants. another impressive pause followed. guy glanced at melton and was alarmed to see the dead white pallor on his face. melton alone perhaps knew what was coming. on the rest the blow fell with crushing severity. "have i not said that makar's word is inviolate?" the arab resumed, leaning forward and uttering each syllable sharply and distinctly. "can makar break his pledge?" and he turned to his solemn visaged ministers. "no, no, no," they muttered in guttural accents, and solemnly shaking their heads. "then hark ye all," makar went on. "i have sworn on the koran that whatsoever prisoners fell to my lot should be delivered over as slaves to the somalis of the galla country. i have spoken. it is kismet. at daybreak ye start for the interior." sir arthur staggered back against the wall with a dismal groan, the hindoos fell on their knees begging piteously for mercy, colonel carrington seemed dazed, stupefied, guy clinched his hands and made a desperate effort to bear up bravely, while melton's face wore the same pale, hopeless expression. no one spoke. supplications and prayers would alike be useless. the arab's stern, pitiless countenance spoke plainer than words. mercy was an unknown word in his vocabulary. "spare us, spare us!" moaned sir arthur, coming forward a pace or two and making as though he would fall on his knees. "i have spoken," cried makar harshly. "words will avail ye nothing." he made a signal to the guards, who at once closed in on the wretched captives and led them away. chapter vii. sold into slavery. the party were taken to a rear apartment of the residency and placed under strong guard. during the remainder of that night no one slept, of course, nor did they hold much conversation, for all instinctively avoided a subject which could only add to their wretchedness. slavery among the somalis was a fate worse than death. it was a living death indeed, for hope of escape there was none. far better if makar had ordered them to be shot at daybreak. guy spoke hopefully to melton of the situation, counting somewhat on the claim he had on makar; but melton seemed to think that the arab had ignored the affair, and would not interfere with guy's fate. all too soon gray dawn came stealing into the residency, revealing the haggard faces of the captives, and with it came a summons from makar to prepare for the journey. food was brought and partaken of with some relish, for, under even the most distressing circumstances, men seem able to eat. closely watched, they were led into the open air, and halted for a brief space in the court. the sun was not up yet, and the blue waters of the gulf stretched afar until lost in the pale mist. in the harbor lay the two steamers, but the british flag no longer floated over their decks. finally they were led through a curious rabble of arabs and somalis to the outskirts of the town, where the caravan was in process of formation. it was no ordinary caravan. there were no bales of goods lying about, no camels laden down with burdens, but surrounded by many of the population drawn hither by curiosity were about fifty camels with simple trappings, and a group of somalis and arabs all heavily armed, the arabs with rifles, the natives with long spears. simultaneously with the arrival of the captives, makar made his appearance with an armed escort and proceeded to hold a close conversation with the two arabs who seemed to be the leaders of the caravan. he spoke earnestly for quite a while, making many gestures, and pointing from time to time at the prisoners. then he turned away, and instantly all was excitement. the arabs and somalis quickly pulled themselves upon their camels, and with the aid of the guards the englishmen were mounted in the same way, each man being hoisted up beside an arab or a somali. no resistance was made. the hindoo soldiers were in a state of deep dejection, and poor sir arthur seemed hardly to realize his position. the caravan was now ready to start. at the last minute makar makalo passed carelessly by guy and whispered, "keep good heart. makar no forget." then he vanished in the crowd, and, with a loud cheer to speed them on their way, the line of camels filed at a slow trot over the sandy plain in a southerly direction. guy turned his head for a last look at zaila and the harbor, now beginning to glimmer in the first rays of the sun, and then a stretch of sand-hills hid the town from view. little did he realize that which he must pass through before he saw the coast again. from the ruined fortifications of the town an unseen observer watched the departure of the caravan. it was manuel torres. the crafty portuguese was well pleased to see the hated englishmen speeding away to their doom. he was a cunning knave, and had laid his plans well. perhaps he feared the stability of the new government. if the english came into possession of zaila again, he could invent some clever tale to disprove his connection with the arab revolt; and who could bear witness against him? none, indeed, for the lips of those who alone knew his guilt would be hopelessly sealed. africa never gives up her slaves. to the wretched captives that day's journey over the scorching desert was a fearful experience. nothing is more painful to the novice than riding camel-back, and when at last a halt was made at sunset every man was aching from head to foot. the heat, too, had been fearful, though the arabs had provided them with big sun helmets before starting. no intercourse was permitted. the captives were kept rigorously apart. but little sleep was allowed. the caravan started again before dawn, and, as before, traveled rapidly and steadily until sundown. at the end of the second day they had become in a measure accustomed to the motion of the camels, and no longer suffered so much. yet in all this time no words had been exchanged. each man was kept apart. the arab with whom guy rode could speak some english, and from him he learned that the chief object of the caravan was to carry to rao khan the news of the capture of zaila. further information the arab refused to give. the caravan comprised a dozen arabs and thirty or forty somalis of the galla country. it was to these crafty savages that the captives belonged. the somalis had assisted makar in the revolt, and these slaves were their reward. their chief, who accompanied the caravan, was none other than guy's vindictive enemy, oko sam. late in the afternoon of the fifth day the caravan came to a sudden halt. in the distance were visible green hills and rolling plains covered with verdure. the desert seemed to have ended. it was evident that something of importance was about to happen. all dismounted, and while the arabs and somalis entered into an excited conversation, the captives were for the first time allowed to converse. their hopeless situation was too well understood for discussion. strange to say, sir arthur was the only one who had not abandoned hope. "the government will save us," he repeated gloomily. "they will send an army into the interior." no one ventured to dispute this assertion. they talked in low tones of their probable destination, and regarded with some uneasiness the conference going on among the arabs, which had now assumed a more excitable phase. "they are quarreling over something," said guy. "why do you suppose they have stopped here?" "i don't know," replied melton, "unless they intend to separate, the arabs going on to harar, the somalis to their own country, which lies to the south of harar." melton's theory was very plausible, but before anyone could reply the conference terminated suddenly, and the arabs, drawing apart, came quickly up to the captives, and, laying hold of sir arthur and the colonel, led them over to the somalis. this was repeated with momba, captain waller, and the hindoo soldiers, but, to their surprise, guy and melton were ordered to remain where they were. foremost among the somalis stood oko sam, his leopard skin dangling about his loins, and a fiendish expression on his face. he advanced a step or two, talking fiercely, and pointing with his spear to guy and melton. the arab leader strode out toward him, and cried in a loud voice, "makar has ordered it. the two white men must go to harar." scarce had the words left his lips when the somali chief poised his spear and hurled it forward with such force and accuracy of aim that it passed through the arab's body and the point came out at the back. with a cry he dropped on the sand. a second of terrible suspense followed, and then snatching another spear from one of his followers, the maddened somali leaped furiously at guy, who unfortunately was standing directly in his path. chapter viii. the separation. but help was at hand. before oko sam could reach his victim, an arab directly behind guy fired, and the fellow stumbled blindly on the sand. a shout of rage burst from the somalis, and, hastily pushing their captives to the rear, they advanced in a very ugly manner, shaking their long spears. leaving the dead arab and the wounded somali where they had fallen, the arabs moved back a short distance, taking guy and melton with them, and shouted to the somalis to remain where they were. the arabs were reluctant to fire, and would have avoided further bloodshed, but the enraged savages continued to press forward, and finally let fly a shower of spears that wounded one of the arabs, and unfortunately killed a camel. the arabs at once retaliated with a rifle-volley, and to such good effect that three or four of the somalis were killed. this brought them to their senses. their spears could not compete with the firearms of the arabs. they moved back to their animals, and, with a few farewell shouts of vengeance, rode away to the south, while the arabs hastily bestrode their camels, and, taking the two englishmen with them, calmly resumed their journey to the southwest. for a time the two caravans, moving on the sides of an acute angle, as it were, remained close together; but, gradually diverging, the sharp outlines of the somalis began to fade into the twilight, and at last, as guy and melton strained their tear-dimmed eyes into the distance, the shadows obliterated the last traces of their captive friends. to momba melton had been deeply attached, and their separation was a hard blow. and now a terrible feeling of desolation came over them, and they were half inclined to wish that they, too, had been led away to share the fate of sir arthur and the colonel. though it was now fast growing dark, the arabs evinced no intention of stopping. with long, sweeping strides the unwearied camels swept over the sandy plain, and their riders from time to time spurred them to greater speed. melton was back in the rear, but guy rode in front, with the arab who had assumed the leadership since the death of his companion. guy ventured to address him, and was surprised to find him grown somewhat communicative. he explained to guy in broken english that by makar's orders he and melton were to be delivered up to rao khan instead of being sent into slavery among the somalis. harar, he said, was a day's journey away, and by traveling all night they would arrive at sunrise. his account of rao khan, the emir, was by no means reassuring, but guy did not allow this to trouble him much. makar's last words were still ringing in his ears, and he felt certain that their deliverance from the somalis was the first step toward the fulfillment of makar's promise. the little caravan moved on in silence. the arabs were probably uneasy. they may have feared an attack from the somalis or some other foe, for they kept a close watch, and held their rifles in constant readiness. but presently the moon came up in the east, casting a pale glamour over the desert, and tracing on the sand in weird, fantastic designs the shadows of the camels and their riders. as the night wore on the arabs relaxed their caution, and, dropping their rifles to their sides, began to refresh themselves with crackers brought along from zaila, together with dates and figs, which they washed down with water. the arab with whom melton was mounted now rode up beside the leader, and, to their great joy, guy and melton were permitted to converse. though they had had no rest or sleep since the previous night, excitement had driven away all fatigue, and they looked forward with deep interest to their arrival at harar. to guy's surprise, melton did not believe that he had been singled out to accompany guy. "no, no, chutney," he said, "depend upon it, makar has some other object in view. i believe now that he will effect your escape in some way, but don't be surprised to find yourself sent back to zaila alone. makar's clemency will be extended to no one but yourself." "nonsense," returned guy. "i tell you he means to save you, too. however, we shall not be parted, melton. i assure you of that. i will accept no deliverance that does not include you, too." forbes made no reply, and for a time they rode on in silence. absorbed in conversation, they had failed to observe that the aspect of the country had begun to change. they were now ascending a slight ridge, and from its crest could be seen the vague outline of mountains on both the right and the left, while all around them, in place of the dreary sand, were low bushes and vegetation. the camel's thorn and tamarisk shrub of the desert had disappeared. once some huge animal glided across their path, and one of the arabs half raised his rifle, but lowered it again. with feelings which they would have found it hard to express, guy and melton saw the dawn come creeping over the sky, and just as it became fully light, they rode over the crest of a hill and perceived in the distance a mass of walls and turrets stamped against the pale-gray sky. a pleasant breeze blew from the mountains which rose steep and rocky on all sides, while the valleys were richly wooded, and a silver thread, curving to and fro, marked the presence of a hillside stream. the little caravan now descended into a narrow gorge and traveled rapidly along the course of a brawling torrent for nearly an hour. then, crossing the stream, they rounded a sharp spur of rocks, and the dreaded city of harar was before them. thirty years before the intrepid burton had penetrated to that hotbed of fanaticism, and had by a miracle come back alive. from that day to this none had dared to emulate him. well might the two young englishmen shrink from meeting that detestable despot, rao khan, who ruled his people by the sword, and hated all christians with hatred that fanaticism alone can breed. the caravan ascended the hill, and across the brow of the ridge stretched the massive, irregular wall of the town. the great brazen gates were closed, and in the oval turrets that rose sentinel-like above the wall appeared no sign of life or motion. then with startling suddenness came a trumpet blast and the quick, sharp roll of drums; and from the town burst a tumult and volume of sound, and then over the walls, and peering curiously from the turrets, appeared a swarm of dark, repulsive faces. the tumult deepened and changed to one vast murmur as the caravan moved in dignified state up to the very gates of the ancient city of harar. chapter ix. a close shave. a brief pause, then the gates swung on creaking hinges, and the caravan filed in between the dingy walls that had reared themselves for centuries from the summit of that hill. for an instant a hush of curiosity fell on the multitude within, as the caravan appeared; but as the arab leader suddenly trailed in the dust the english flag that had once floated from the fortifications of zaila a great shout arose, so that the very air seemed to tremble, and the people pressed tumultuously on the caravan from all sides. "zaila has fallen! zaila has fallen!" they cried, and with wild joy they beat their arms in the air, while those in the rear sought the house-tops, so as better to see the new arrivals. in the first excitement guy and melton had escaped notice, but now they were suddenly espied, and the sight of the two hated englishmen roused the passions to the highest pitch of ferocity. the foreigners' presence in the town was a sacrilege, an insult, and with threats and angry cries the mob surged round the group. at last, so great was the crush, the camels were forced to halt. "kill the infidels! kill the dogs of unbelievers!" howled the multitude, and waxing more furious with every shout, they drew daggers and knives and raised their spears. the arabs had quietly closed round guy and melton, forming with their camels a protective circle, and this alone saved the englishmen from death. but every instant the situation was becoming more critical. the mob grew bolder, and even tried to force the group apart in spite of the protestations of the arabs, who had begun to point their rifles threateningly. hundreds of savage faces glared unutterable hatred at the two strangers, hundreds of wretches were thirsting for their blood, and, finally roused to uncontrollable fury, the crowd swept impetuously against the caravan from all sides. the frightened camels pranced and reared, and the cordon of defense suddenly broken, a dozen savages rushed on guy and melton. a long spear pierced forbes under the arm and down he went beneath the camels. a burly wretch dashed at guy with a dagger, but the arab brought down the butt of his rifle on the fellow's head just in time, as he dropped like a log. a man behind hurled his spear, but his aim was poor, and, instead of striking guy, it entered the poor camel's neck; the beast, plunging madly forward, hurled guy and the arab to the ground. this alone saved their lives. as guy staggered to his feet, cries of quite a different nature burst from the mob, and in fright and panic they began to scatter in all directions. the rattle of musketry broke out some distance ahead, and the arabs, joining in eagerly, began to empty their rifles into the fleeing mass. the englishmen were saved. a compact body of men in linen tunics and leopard skin caps came sweeping forward. they were armed with rifles, and as they ran they kept shooting into the struggling crowd which was shrieking and groaning with agony. in five minutes the place was deserted, and the stony ground was literally covered with bodies. it was a terrible example of rao khan's despotic rule. melton was lifted up, and to guy's deep sorrow it was seen that he had received an ugly thrust along the side, not of a serious nature, but ragged and painful. two of the emir's troopers, for such they proved to be, carried him, for he was unable to walk or ride. guy and the arab mounted a fresh camel, first putting the wounded animal out of his misery, and then, preceded by the emir's guard, the caravan resumed its march up the street. the first sight of harar was novel and interesting. before them was a long avenue, fully a mile in length, at the extreme end of which could be dimly seen the northern wall of the town. this avenue was like a barren mountain road, strewn with rubbish and heaps of rocks, and the dwellings, which rose on all sides to the height of two stories, were, many of them, constructed of sandstone and granite, cemented with a reddish clay. they were impressively gloomy and dingy. the terrible scene just enacted had terrorized the people. many arabs came flocking across the streets and exchanged greetings with the newcomers, but very few somalis or gallas were to be seen. the sight of the emir's guard seemed to have stricken the town like a palsy. the shops and booths were closed and deserted. the curtains of the houses were closely drawn; here and there at the doors lay goods that had been dropped in the sudden panic, and at one place a man lay dead across the threshold, still clutching in his stiffened fingers a bunch of brightly colored rugs. but now the scene became animated and lively; people flocked out from their houses, among them many women, whom guy regarded curiously, for they seemed to be of quite a different type from the men, and passably good-looking. they made no demonstration, however, but very quietly followed the caravan. the center of the town was now close at hand, and a short distance ahead, on the left-hand side, rose a more imposing abode than those around it. it was built of granite, and above the flat roof rose a square tower with circular windows. it boasted a spacious courtyard, inclosed by a low stone parapet, and within this space were a dozen armed guards, clad in leopard skin caps, and bearing brightly polished rifles. it was the palace of the emir. as the caravan drew up to the gates the escort sounded a blast of trumpets, and almost immediately the doors were opened and a grave and dignified arab came slowly out. he spoke a few words to the leader of the caravan, who dismounted at once, and bidding guy follow him, entered the courtyard. close behind him came melton, borne by the soldiers. passing between the guard, they entered a narrow vestibule hung with rich curtains, and in a moment more were ushered into the dreaded presence of rao kahn. the emir was seated on a low dais at the further side of a spacious apartment. the first glance struck terror to guy's heart. rao khan was a short, thickset man, with a round, smooth face. his eyes were sunken deeply under the forehead, and the expression of his face was a strange blending of brutality, avarice, and treachery. he was simply clad in white linen, with a great sword at his side, and on his head was a leopard skin cap, so constructed that the tail of the leopard hung down his back. before him squatted four solemn-faced arabs. the floor was spread with rugs and the skins of various animals, and on the heavily curtained walls hung a dazzling array of every description, bronze and copper shields, and strips of oddly-woven tapestry. at sight of the english flag which the arab now produced, the emir's eyes sparkled, his face lit up with fiendish joy, and he began to talk wildly in a strange tongue. the arab replied, giving him no doubt an account of the insurrection, for the names berbera, zaila, and makar makalo were frequently mentioned. guy, from his position at melton's side, who had been placed on a soft lion skin, watched the strange scene with wonder. he was more worried at present about melton than anything else. the spear wound had not yet been dressed, and the poor fellow was in too much pain even to talk. at last the arab turned round, and, pointing to the englishmen, spoke in a low tone to the emir, who half rose from his seat and looked sharply at the captives. guy met his gaze calmly and steadily. in a moment the suspense would be over, and their fate would be decided one way or the other. chapter x. the slave prison. the emir's reply was brief and apparently forcible. he clapped his hands, and half a dozen soldiers appeared instantly. he addressed them with a word or two, but before they could execute his orders, guy hastened forward and said to the arab, "i pray you have my friend's wound dressed. he is suffering much pain." the arab addressed the emir, pointing to the wounded man, and then, turning to guy, he said, "it is well. rao khan will see to the inglis man." guy would have sought more information, but the soldiers now came forward and picking melton up motioned guy to follow them. they passed out of the apartment by a rear door, and traversing a long hall, entered a big courtyard. on the right and left were high stone walls, and directly opposite was a low, gloomy sandstone structure, with one narrow door opening on the court. here were standing more armed guards, who obsequiously opened the door for the approaching captives. as they passed through the gloomy portal guy's heart sank. his eyes at first could see nothing but darkness, and he blindly followed his conductors until they came to a stop. a heavy door was closed and bolted behind him, and then all was silent. in a few seconds he was able to see his surroundings. he was in a square dungeon, lighted by a narrow aperture high up in the wall. the floor was of stone, strewn with straw. melton sat up and leaned against the wall. "where are we, chutney?" he asked. "i don't know," answered guy; "in some sort of prison, i suppose. why--hello, melton, here are iron rings sunk in the floor all along the side." "that settles it, then," rejoined melton. "this is rao khan's slave prison. i don't suppose there are many inmates now while the fair is going on." approaching footsteps put an end to the conversation, and in a moment the door opened to admit a tall arab, followed by a native with bandages and a basin of water. the arab quietly loosened melton's shirt and coat, and, washing the wound, wrapped bandages spread with some soft ointment round his body. he did the work speedily and dexterously, and then departed as silently as he had come. he had barely gone, however, when a soldier entered with a tray containing dates, figs, and a peculiar kind of cakes, which he placed before the prisoners. they ate with relish, and then, overcome by weariness, they lay down on the straw and fell asleep. it was some hours later when guy awoke. night had come, for no light shone through the aperture. he lay for some time listening to melton's deep breathing and thinking of their terrible situation. he was not without hope of deliverance, for he placed a great deal of faith in makar's promise; yet even then the chances were against them. perhaps at this very moment zaila had been retaken, and makar was killed or a prisoner. if this should happen they were lost. guy shuddered to think of rao khan's vengeance under such circumstances. presently he became aware of vague noises somewhere in the distance. he fancied he heard shots fired and a loud tumult of voices. he thought it might be imagination, but suddenly the sounds increased, and once or twice footsteps hurried past the dungeon. the noise now woke melton, and together they listened, convinced that it was a presentiment of coming evil. the strange sounds rose and fell, at times nearly dying away and then bursting out with renewed violence. "i can't understand it at all," said guy. "it can't be a rejoicing over the capture of zaila, for they are plainly cries of anger." "we'll know pretty soon what it means," returned melton; "it concerns us, you may be sure." in his excitement he arose and began to pace the floor. his wound was giving him no pain, he said, adding that he really felt pretty well again. at last the shouts seemed to come a little nearer, and before long the fierce, angry cries were heard close at hand. "they are surrounding the prison," said guy, huskily. he was right. a howling mob was on all sides of them now, and it was quite clear that they were beginning to attack the walls of the courtyard, for suddenly half a dozen shots were fired as though the guards were resisting the invaders. it was a period of terrible suspense. the shouts increased, the firing grew heavier, powder-smoke drifted into the prison; but just when they expected to see their dungeon door torn open by a mad swarm of fanatics the uproar suddenly ceased. a full minute of silence followed, and then on the night air rose a howl of triumph, so savage, so vindictive, that guy and melton shivered from head to foot. for some reason the attack had been suddenly abandoned. what that reason was they could only surmise. the silence continued. the invaders had dispersed. sleep was impossible, and they passed the time in conversation until a streak of light, flickering through the opening, showed that morning had come. food and drink were brought in. the prisoners ate sparingly. the shadow of a great calamity was overhanging. "i am just as sure," said melton, "that something will shortly happen, as i am that you and i are in rao khan's slave prison at harar." "listen," answered guy. footsteps approached. the door creaked and opened, and a man entered. with a cry of wonder guy and melton sprang to their feet. the new-comer was bronzed and burnt, he had light hair, a mustache and a soft blond beard, but he wore trousers and a tunic of white linen. the surprise was mutual. the stranger scanned them closely from head to foot. "who are you?" cried guy hoarsely. "can it be possible that you are an englishman--an englishman in harar?" the man paused a moment, and then said quietly: "i am a greek. my name is canaris mataplan. at present i am an interpreter to rao khan, the emir." "but your english?" cried melton. "it is perfect." "i was a cafe-keeper at cairo for seven years," replied the greek. "i learned english there." an embarrassing pause now occurred. it was certain that the greek was the bearer of tidings from the emir. no one dared speak. at last the greek said quietly: "you are truly unfortunate. tell me how you came here. i know that zaila has fallen into the possession of rao khan's emissaries. i know nothing else." guy briefly told the tale, and canaris listened quietly. "fools!" he said. "the english will be in zaila again in a month." "and you?" rejoined guy. "what brought you to harar?" "i left cairo for calcutta," said canaris. "the steamer was lost off cape guardafui; ten of us reached shore in a boat; the somalis slaughtered all but myself. i was sold to the arabs and came ultimately to harar. i was useful to rao khan in many ways, and my life was spared. i have been here two years, two long years. i shall never see greece again," he added gloomily. "i am a slave to the emir for life." "is escape then impossible?" asked guy. "absolutely. between here and the coast is the desert. to the south are the bloodthirsty gallas. no, no; one can never escape from harar." the tramp of the guard was heard in the corridor, and a sudden change passed over the greek's face. "i have come from rao khan," he said in a low voice. "he sends me with a message." he paused. "go on," said guy; "we are listening." he was breathing heavily. "two hours after you arrived here yesterday morning," resumed canaris, "rao khan despatched the arabs to zaila again, in company with two hundred of his best soldiers, who will assist in holding the town. they had scarcely gone when an insurrection broke out. the people were angered at the slaughter done by the emir's troops when they rescued you from the crowd. it is an ancient law in harar that every christian stranger who enters her gates must die. englishmen are most detested of all. the populace became maddened and furious; from all quarters of the town they came, clamoring, demanding your lives. when rao khan called out his remaining troops they refused to fire. the people, they said, were right. a very few remained faithful to the emir. the mob surrounded the palace and the prison; they tried to scale the walls; the guards in the court fired on them. then rao khan appeared and spoke to the angry crowd. he begged them to wait. he told them that you belonged not to him, but that makar makalo had sent you here for safe-keeping, that you were the slaves of makar makalo. the people only howled in derision. they became more angry and infuriated, and refused to listen any longer. 'the englishmen must die!' they cried. rao khan was fearful in his anger. but he was powerless. he feared the destruction of the palace, the loss of his own life." here canaris paused and looked with infinite pity at the englishmen. guy tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. melton laid his hand on the greek's arm. "go on, go on," he whispered hoarsely. "we are men, not cowards. let us know the worst." chapter xi. canaris unfolds a tale. "well," said canaris, "i will tell you. rao khan has promised your lives to the people. it was his only hope, and now, his word once given, he will not dare to break it." melton covered his face with his hands, and guy staggered backward. "when?" he cried huskily. "today?" "no," said canaris, "not today. the emir bids me tell you that you will have four days yet to live. on the fifth day you will die by the executioner, in the square of the town." they shuddered as these dreadful words fell from the greek's lips. "is there no hope, then, at all?" said melton. "let us know the worst at once and be done with it." canaris made no reply for a moment. his eyes were fixed on the floor, and he seemed to be thinking deeply. when he looked up the expression of his face was changed. a strange light shone in his eye, a mixture of triumph and fear. "i can tell you nothing now," he said hastily. "tonight you shall have an answer. but tell me, how is your wound?" "better," replied melton. "i can scarcely feel it at all." "good," said canaris. "now do just as i tell you. lie down on the straw; pretend that you are much worse; moan loudly from time to time, and when i come tonight i shall have something to impart to you." with this strange admonition, canaris hastily left the dungeon and the guard rebolted the door. "is the fellow crazy?" said melton. "what can he mean to do?" "crazy?" rejoined guy. "no; i have a strange faith in that man, melton. do just as he tells you and see what turns up tonight." with much grumbling melton assumed the part of a very sick man. he rather overdid the thing, in fact, for twice the guard opened the door and looked in. about noon food was brought, and from that time no one came near them. the minutes dragged along like hours. they tried to forget the awful fate that stared them in the face, but in spite of the greek's encouraging words the future looked very black. at last the feeble light in their dungeon began to fade away, and soon they were in darkness. "the fellow will never come back," said melton bitterly. "it's all up with us, chutney, so don't try to raise any more false hopes." but guy refused to give up, and his faith was rewarded. quick footsteps approached the dungeon, the bolts rattled, and canaris entered with a rude lamp and a leather case, which he placed carefully on the floor. then he pulled a paper from his pocket and waved it gleefully. "see," he cried, "a permit from rao khan, admitting me to the prison at all times. i told him that your wound was very bad, that the arab doctor had failed to help you, and that i knew enough of english surgery to cure you if he would allow it. rao khan reluctantly consented, and here i am." he listened intently for a moment, glanced round the dungeon, and then went on in a low, excited tone: "get close together. i have something important to tell you." they squatted down in a group on the straw, and with a strange, exultant sparkle in his eyes, canaris began: "when i came to harar two years ago this very cell held a white slave, like yourselves an englishman. he was an old man, with long white hair and beard, and had been so long in slavery that he had forgotten his own name and could scarcely speak the english tongue. "my duties then were to carry food and drink to the slaves, and before long i was on intimate terms with the old englishman. he was very ill, and the arab doctors made him no better. perhaps it was old age that was the trouble, but at all events he died two months after i came. at different times he had told me the story of his life, and that is what i am going to tell you now. "he had been thirty years in slavery. how and where he had been captured he could no longer remember. his mind was a blank on that point. but one thing he told me that is important. for twenty years he had lived among the gallas in a village fifty miles to the south of harar, and it was a few years after he had been brought there that he nearly succeeded in making his escape. "he had often heard from the natives of an underground river that was said to exist, and which emptied either into the river juba or into the sea. the tales concerning the river were many and strange, but the chief of the gallas assured him that at one time a tribe of natives had lived in the mouth of a huge cavern which gave access to the river." "i have heard something of that myself," interrupted melton. "an arab at zanzibar told me, but i never had any faith in the story." "that river exists," said canaris solemnly. "the englishman found it." "what!" cried guy and melton in one breath. "he found the underground river?" "yes, he discovered it," resumed canaris. "he found it one day while hunting in a concealed cavern. he ventured down and came to a great sandy beach, past which flowed swiftly a broad stream. on the beach lay half a dozen strong canoes with paddles. all this he saw by the light that streamed in from narrow crevices overhead. he went back to the village and began to lay aside provisions for the journey, for he intended making his escape by the river. in a week all was ready. he had concealed near the cavern supplies for a long voyage. the very day fixed for his escape he was sold to a galla chief who lived twenty miles distant. in the years that followed he made many attempts to escape, but on every occasion was captured and brought back. at last he was given as tribute to the emir by this galla chief, and here in this dungeon, on the spot you are sitting on now, he breathed his last." canaris paused and helped himself to a glass of water. "a strange story, indeed," said guy; "but what has it got to do with us?" "i will tell you," responded canaris, with a slight tremor in his voice. "it may have nothing to do with any of us, and it may be of the greatest importance to us all." "did the old man tell you where to find the cavern?" asked guy. "no," answered canaris, "but before he died he gave me this," and, pulling a folded bit of linen from his pocket he handed it to guy. "can you read that?" he asked in strange excitement. "i have never been able to make anything out of it." guy pulled it carefully open and gazed with interest on the faded characters that had apparently been written in blood. "yes," he said after a pause, "i can read it. it is french." "go on," said canaris. "tell me quickly what it is." "it translates as follows," rejoined guy: "half way between elephant peak and the lion's head. the south side of the stone kraal. the rock with the cross." canaris sprang to his feet and staggered back against the wall of the dungeon. "it was providence that brought you here," he cried. "it is wonderful, wonderful!" "what do you mean?" said guy. "how can this aid us?" "it is the secret of the cave," replied canaris. "the stone kraal is a curious formation of rocks that lie between the two mountains that bear those names. close by is the village of the chief of all the gallas." "but how under the sun can this discovery benefit us?" repeated guy, half angrily. "can you open our prison for us, canaris?" the greek threw a cautious glance toward the door and then whispered in a voice that trembled with emotion: "nothing is impossible; hope for the best. but stay," he added in sudden fear; "i must have money, or all is lost. alas! you have none, i am sure." for answer guy hastily rose, and, loosening his clothes, unhooked a small buckskin belt. he tore open the end and dropped a stream of golden sovereigns into his hand. "here is money!" he cried. "the arabs overlooked this when they searched me." the greek's eyes glittered. "give me twenty," he said. "that will be plenty." he stowed the coins away in his clothes and picked up the lamp. "i must leave you now," he said. "i will return in the morning." he would have added more, but steps were heard in the corridor. the dungeon door clanged behind him, and guy and melton were left in darkness, half stupefied by the strange story they had just heard and by the hope of escape which the greek so confidently held out to them. chapter xii. a daring move. when daylight came the captives could scarcely believe that the events of the preceding night had not been all a dream. there was the document, however, to prove their reality, and guy was deeply studying its faded characters when the greek arrived. his face was radiant with happiness, an expression which quickly gave way to deep sadness as a big somali entered with a platter of food. the latter had barely closed the door when canaris held up a warning finger and motioned the englishmen to draw near. "it is well," he said softly. "i will tell you what i have done. near the palace lives a jewish merchant whom i know well. to him i went last night and by the aid of your gold made a good bargain. on the western side of the city, close by the wall, is a deserted guard-house that was once used before the watch-towers were built. here the jew promised to take for me the goods i purchased--namely, a supply of dates, figs, and crackers, three revolvers, three rifles with boxes of shells, three sabers, two ancient bronze lamps with flasks of palm oil, a box of english candles, and four long ropes with iron hooks on the end." "he will betray you to the emir," said guy in alarm. "oh, no," returned canaris, "no danger of that. i know a little secret concerning my jewish friend that would put his head above the town walls in an hour's time. the things are even now hidden in the deserted house, you may rely on that." "but how are we going to get out of this infernal dungeon?" asked guy. "and how can we pass through the streets to the edge of the town?" for answer the greek opened the leather case that he had brought with him and took out three revolvers, three boxes of shells, a coil of rope, and a sharp knife. "these are my surgical instruments," he said. "i will put them under the straw," and he suited the action to the word. "affairs outside have changed somewhat," he continued. "the people are sullen and restless. they mistrust the emir, and fear they will be cheated of the pleasure they are looking forward to." guy turned pale. "then we are lost!" he cried. "no, you are saved," said canaris. "that very fact works for your salvation. the emir is alarmed; he fears for himself, not for you. his troops are few since he despatched the caravan to zaila, and at night, for better security, he takes guards from the prison courtyard and stations them before the palace. this leaves three guards to contend with; one watches in the corridor, one stands before the prison door, and the third guards the gateway that opens from the prison yard on to a dark avenue of the town. if all goes well you will be free men at midnight. i must hurry away now. listen well to my instructions, and do just as i tell you. "you," and he turned to melton, "must pretend that your wound is bad. refuse to eat and lie on the straw all the time. it will be better if i do not return today. i fear that even now rao khan grows suspicious. the arab doctor is angered because i have assumed his duties. at midnight, if you listen sharply, you will hear the guard relieved by a new man. soon after that knock on the door, and when the guard looks in show him the wounded man, who will then feign to be very bad. i sleep in a rear apartment of the palace. the guard will send for me, and i will come. otherwise my visiting you at that time of night would be looked upon with suspicion. the rest i will tell you then. don't despair. all will be well; till midnight, farewell." canaris glided from the dungeon, and the prisoners were alone. they passed the long hours of that day in a strange mixture of hope and fear. the difficulties to be overcome seemed insurmountable. they must escape from the prison, pass through the very midst of their bloodthirsty enemies, scale the wall, and then--where were they? hundreds of miles from the coast, surrounded by barbarous and savage people, and their only hope that mysterious underground river which in itself was a thing to be feared. but, on the other hand, speedy death awaited them in the dungeon of rao khan. the chances were truly worth taking. they followed instructions closely when the guard brought them food at noon, and in the evening melton tossed on the floor as though in pain. the thrice-welcomed darkness came at last, and the light faded out of their dungeon. once a horrible thought entered guy's mind. what was to prevent the greek from making his escape alone, and abandoning the englishmen to their fate? it was but momentary, however, and then he dismissed the suspicion with a feeling of shame. he had already learned to trust the greek implicitly. crouched by their dungeon door, they listened by the hour, and at last their patience was rewarded. voices were heard, steps approached and died away, and then all was silent. the time for action had come. melton threw himself on the straw and moaned. guy rapped sharply on the door and waited in suspense. almost instantly it opened, and the guard, a tall nubian, pushed his lamp into the doorway and followed it up with head and shoulders. "canaris, canaris!" said guy earnestly, pointing to melton, who uttered at that moment a most unearthly groan. the guard drew back and shut the door. his soft tread echoed down the corridor, and all was still. the suspense of the next five minutes guy will never forget as long as he lives. it seemed to his excited imagination as though an hour had passed by, when suddenly sounds were heard in the corridor, and in an instant more canaris stood before them, his leather case at his side, a lamp in his hand. he closed the door, opened the case, and drew out two wide linen tunics and two long jackets such as the emir's troops wore. "put these on," he whispered. "you can wear your helmets; there are many of them in harar." as he spoke he drew an arab burnous over his head, shading entirely his light hair and mustache. he next pulled the revolvers and shells from under the straw, distributed them around, and with the knife cut the rope in a dozen parts. by this time guy and melton had donned their disguises and were ready for action. up to this point guy had supposed that canaris had bribed the guards and paved the way out of prison. "you are sure the guards will let us pass?" he said. canaris looked at him in wonder, and then a smile rippled over his face. "you thought i had bribed the guards," he said. "ten thousand pounds could not tempt them. they would only lose their heads in the morning. it matters little," he added. "they will lose them anyhow. but our time has come; be ready now to assist." he motioned guy and melton behind the door, and then, pulling it partly open, uttered a few words in a strange tongue. instantly the powerful frame of the big nubian entered, and as he stood for one second on the dungeon floor, sudden mistrust in his ugly features, canaris leaped at his throat and bore him heavily to the ground. "quick!" he cried, and in an instant guy and melton had seized the struggling man's arms and feet. still pressing the fellow's windpipe with one muscular hand, canaris thrust a gag into the gaping mouth, and in two minutes their captive was lying bound and helpless on the straw. "what did you tell him?" asked guy. "i said our lamp was going out," canaris replied. "and now for the man at the prison door. i must get him inside, for the post is in plain view of the guard at the gate." a solution of this puzzling problem was closer at hand than anyone imagined. the creaking of a door was heard, followed by approaching footsteps. "here he comes now!" said canaris in an excited whisper. "he has grown suspicious, and has determined to investigate. quick!" canaris darted to the other side of the doorway, and then ensued another period of chilling suspense. the tread came nearer, and at last another stalwart nubian blocked the doorway with his massive bulk. his look of wonder was comical as he saw his comrade gagged and bound on the dungeon floor, but before the half articulated exclamation could escape his lips canaris had him by the throat, and down they came. the fellow uttered one cry, and then, as his head struck the edge of the door in falling his struggles lessened, and with no trouble at all he was gagged and bound. canaris tore the ammunition from their belts, handed guy and melton their rifles, and then, blowing out the lamp, he pushed them into the corridor and bolted the door. "two heads will be off in the morning," he remarked grimly. "one more victory and we are out of prison." he blew out the light that stood in the corridor and led the way through the darkness till he reached the door. he pulled it open, a crack revealing the moonlit courtyard, and took a long, careful survey. "there is the man we want," he whispered, pointing across the court, and putting his eyes to the crevice guy saw against the massive prison wall a dark shadow leaning grimly on a rifle. chapter xiii. the flight through the town. it was a critical situation for the three fugitives, crouching behind the heavy prison door. that grim sentry over yonder by the gate must be noiselessly and effectually overpowered, and that at once. any moment guards might come from the palace, and then--oh, it was horrible! the public square, the executioner's gleaming knife, the roar of the populace! guy's brain whirled at this appalling panorama, and he clutched the door for support. "can't we rush on him?" asked melton. canaris laughed grimly. "before we could take three steps from the door," he said, "the fellow would see us and alarm the palace. if i go alone the chances are that before you can reach me he would succeed in making an outcry. our only hope lies in getting away from the town before our escape is discovered." "but what are you going to do, canaris?" asked guy excitedly. "we are losing precious time." "keep cool," replied the greek. "i will fix him in five minutes. stay where you are and don't make a sound. when i wave my hand, then come." he removed his burnous and stuffed it under his tunic. then he calmly opened the door and walked straight across the court toward the guard, who looked up carelessly at his approach. with their eyes glued against the cracks of the door guy and melton waited in terrible suspense. a short conversation ensued. canaris turned and pointed toward the prison. the guard replied with many gestures, and finally in his eagerness placed his rifle against the wall. what followed was so swift and dexterous that it seemed like a dream. the greek's right hand shot out from his bosom clasping some glittering object. it struck the astonished guard on the forehead with a sharp click that echoed across the courtyard, and without a sound he dropped on his knees and then rolled over on the stone pavement. canaris waved his hand, and then the two captives dashed breathlessly across the courtyard. "is he dead?" asked guy in a horrified whisper. "only stunned," replied canaris. "i struck him with the butt of my revolver. quick now; bind and gag him while i find the key and open the gate." guy hastily fastened the fellow's feet and arms and stuffed a roll of linen in his mouth. melton stood looking on. his wound was beginning to give him some pain again. with a low exclamation of triumph canaris pulled from the nubian's waist a narrow belt on which hung a ponderous iron key. all rose to their feet. guy dropped the unconscious guard under the shadow of the wall. the supreme moment had come. the great courtyard, white in the light of the moon, was empty. the heavy doors leading to the palace were shut. behind the high prison walls all seemed quiet. the city was asleep. the first stage of the journey was accomplished in safety. the terrible passage through the town was before them now. with a hand that trembled slightly canaris inserted the key in the lock. it turned with a harsh rattle, and at a touch of the hand the brazen gate swung outward. the greek made a hasty survey and then stepped noiselessly outside. they were in a narrow side street which ran past the emir's palace. the side toward the prison was in deep shadow. on the other side was a long stone building, with two or three narrow grated windows. "that is an arab storehouse opposite," said canaris. "we are safe for the present. now follow me closely. walk boldly and fearlessly and keep a few feet apart." he started off at a rapid gait, his white burnous tossing on his shoulders, and with fast-beating hearts guy and melton came close behind. in five minutes they turned into another narrow passage running at right angles, and, continuing along this for forty or fifty yards, made still another turn. the two streets they had just traversed had been lined for the most part with big warehouses and slave-markets. it was, in fact, the business part of the town, alive with people during the day, deserted at night. but now a crisis was at hand. canaris halted his little party in the shadow of a building and pointed straight up the street. "yonder lies the main avenue," he said. "we must cross it to reach our destination. keep yourselves well under control, don't show any fear, and if any people are about don't look at them. if they address you make no reply." guy marveled at the greek's coolness under such terrible circumstances. every moment was a torture to him as long as they remained in the midst of these bloodthirsty fiends. in five minutes they reached the main street. from the slight ridge on which they stood they could see stretching afar on either hand the moonlit roadway, spectered with the dark shadows of the houses. they had been traveling on three sides of a square. fifty yards down the street the tower of the emir's palace was visible, outlined faintly against the pale-gray sky. as they stepped from the shadows upon the open roadway, an arab stalked from a doorway opposite, and without troubling himself to come nearer addressed canaris in a strange tongue. guy's heart seemed to leap into his throat as he nervously handled the revolver that stuck in his belt. canaris coolly replied in a low voice. the arab evinced no intention of coming any nearer, and in an instant more the fugitives had plunged into the gloom of another cross street. on all sides now were rude abodes, some of sandstone, others of clay, and at some places even tents were to be seen. laughter and loud talking came from open windows. two or three fierce looking somali warriors stalked past in dignified silence, and an arab sheik, wrapped closely in his garment, looked at them cautiously as he hurried by. melton now walked with difficulty. his wound had broken out afresh and was bleeding. the weight of the rifle was too much for him, and he was compelled to abandon it in the road. "a little farther now," said canaris encouragingly, "and we shall be safe." melton tried to walk faster, leaning on guy's arm, but at last, with a moan of pain, he sank to the ground. "go on, leave me; save yourselves," he whispered feebly, as they bent over him and tried to lift him to his feet. "one more effort, my dear melton," implored guy in an agony, "only one more effort, and we shall be safe. we can carry you if you can't walk." "no," he gasped. "go at once. you can escape. i would only keep you back and cause your capture; better one than three." guy threw an appealing glance at canaris. the greek's features were immovable. he calmly waited the result of guy's pleading. "my brave fellow," said chutney, in a husky voice, kneeling down and clasping melton's hand, "i refuse to accept your sacrifice. i shall remain here with you and we will meet our fate together. canaris, save yourself while there is yet time. i will not desert my friend." the greek paused irresolutely. the convulsive workings of his face showed the struggle going on in his mind. suddenly melton rose on one elbow and cried excitedly: "go, go, i tell you." guy shook his head. "no," he said decidedly. "i shall remain." "you are throwing your lives away," said melton bitterly. "here, help me up. i will make another effort." in an instant guy and canaris had gladly pulled him to his feet, and off they went again as rapidly as possible. all was quiet around them. a deep silence, broken only by the occasional low of a cow, had enwrapped the town. so far their escape had remained undiscovered. "ah, here we are," said canaris joyfully, turning down a dark, dirty passage, so narrow that the three could barely walk abreast. "in three minutes we shall reach the wall." three minutes is not a long time, but it is long enough for many things to happen. they had traversed half the length of the street when guy, moved by one of those sudden, unexplainable impulses, turned his head. ten yards behind, crawling with soft and stealthy tread, was a grim, half naked somali. how long he had been following in their track it was impossible to tell. but there he was, a stern nemesis, the moonlight shining on spear and shield, and glowing on the dark, villainous features. guy and canaris wheeled round and stood with drawn revolvers. the somali clutched his spear and drew up his shield. the silence remained unbroken. one single cry and a mad horde would rush forth like bees from a hive. the somali made one step backward, then another, and then, opening his mouth, he gave a yell that was caught up in horrible echoes till the street fairly rang. "malediction!" cried canaris, in uncontrollable fury, "that's your last shout," and, taking quick aim, he pulled his revolver on the shouting somali. a stunning report, a hollow groan, and down came the savage all in a heap, while the heavy shield bounded with a clatter over the stones. chapter xiv. over the walls. the crack of the revolver, following closely on the somali's loud yell, had barely died away in echoes when the dark street seemed fairly to burst into life. the fugitives did not wait to see the result of the shot, but as they dashed madly forward they heard the people calling wildly to one another as they hurried from their dwellings. even melton kept up with wonderful endurance. the excitement had given him false strength, and he kept even pace with guy and canaris. close at hand was the termination of the street, and as they were within ten yards of it a big somali suddenly leaped out and barred the way. the fugitives were going at a rate of speed which it was simply impossible to check. canaris was a foot in advance, and in an instant more he would have impaled himself on the savage's outpointed spear. it was too late to use the revolver which he still carried in his hand, but quick as a flash he hurled it with all his might, and with such correct aim that it landed plump on the fellow's head with an ugly crack. the somali howled with agony, letting the spear drop from his nerveless hands, and just as it clattered to the ground canaris was upon him with a rush, and down they went together, the somali undermost. canaris was up in a trice, and guy and melton, bounding on behind, trampled the half unconscious savage under their feet. "go on," said guy fiercely. "we will outwit them yet. brace up, melton; we'll soon be out of this hole." forbes gritted his teeth to suppress a cry of pain. "i can't keep up much longer," he said. "i'll faint from loss of blood." the place they had just entered was the great trading locality and slave market of the town. at this time of year it was deserted, but the empty stalls and booths stood about in endless confusion. the wisdom of the route chosen by canaris was now apparent, for this labyrinth of paths, which wove an intricate network through the stalls, offered just the opportunity they wanted; and, following the greek's guidance, they twisted in and out in a tortuous line that gradually brought them toward the opposite side of the market. the outcry behind them had by this time swelled to a perfect tumult, and the night air bore it to their ears with startling distinctness. fortunately for the fugitives, this vast court was surrounded by grim slave prisons, and they encountered no one in their flight. they reached the opposite side of the market in safety, and, plunging in among the mass of empty prisons, ran on, panting and breathless. the greek's white burnous fluttered on ahead, turning angle after angle, diving into dark alleys and shooting across open spaces. at last he stopped and, too exhausted to speak, waved his hand in triumph at the frowning wall of the town that towered directly over their heads for twenty feet. close by the wall was a circular stone tower, partly in ruins, and into this canaris dived eagerly. it was an anxious moment to the two who waited on the outside, but at last the greek reappeared in triumph with his hands full. the jewish merchant had kept his promise. he paused a second or two to listen to the outcry in the town. "they are coming nearer," he said. "keep cool and don't get excited. they will search every stall in the market before a man comes near us, and besides this is the last place they would look. they will never suspect us of any intention to scale the wall. still we must lose no time," he added. "now here is a box of shells apiece; put them in your pockets, buckle these sabers around your waists, take the rifles i bought. they are better, so you may throw the others away." "forbes can't carry one," said guy. "what shall we do with it?" "leave it behind," replied canaris. "we have burden enough. i had the jew put up the stuff in three oilcloth bags. we must divide it into two loads." he turned the contents of all on the ground. "yes, everything is here," he said. "crackers, dates, figs, two lamps, a box of candles, matches, and two flasks of palm oil. now, then, for the final move." he divided the stuff into two bags, and then, going back into the guard tower, came out with a bunch of long ropes. "hurry up," said guy. "do you observe how close the sounds are coming?" "they are searching the market," said canaris calmly. "they take us for a party of drunken arabs out on a lark." "then they don't suspect the truth?" asked guy. canaris laughed. "if it were known that the emir's english prisoners had escaped," he said, "the fiends up yonder would be making more noise than the surf that breaks on the rocks at bab el mandeb." the ropes had at one end a rude iron hook, and, taking one of them, canaris threw it over the wall, retaining the other end in his hand. he pulled it in a yard or two, and then the rope became suddenly taut. the hook was secure. he took a sharp glance around him, measured with his ear the hoarse shouts that still rose from the slave market, and then went nimbly up the rope, hand over hand. he reached the top in safety. "now fasten the stuff on," he whispered down; "put the other ropes in the bag." guy obeyed instructions, and canaris rapidly drew the string up. he then speedily hooked a second rope to the wall and dropped it down. "fasten forbes to one rope, and come up the other yourself," he called out to chutney. here a difficulty arose. melton was, of course, unable to climb the rope, and if a noose were slipped under his arms the wound would be torn and lacerated by the strain. "it's no use, chutney," he said. "i foresaw this. you must get off without me." guy was in despair. he was just on the point of bidding canaris make his escape alone, when a happy thought struck him. "i have it, melton," he cried joyfully. "have you much power in your arms?" "yes," said melton, "but not enough to go up that rope." "that's all right. i don't want you to go up the rope," returned guy. "here, put your feet together and stand straight." hastily noosing the rope, he drew the knot tightly about melton's legs just above the knee. "you take a good grip with your hands," he added. "there won't be much strain on your wound and we'll have you on the top in a jiffy." melton obeyed instructions, and guy pulled himself speedily to the top. "crouch down," said canaris; "don't you see that watch-tower?" and he pointed to a dim mass rising from the wall some distance off. "that is the nearest tower," he added. "i hardly think they can see us, but it is better to take precautions." the other two ropes were already dangling on the outer side of the wall. canaris had planned everything for an emergency. guy took a hasty glance at the roofs and battlements spread before them on one side, the moonlit landscape on the other, and then he whispered down, "all right, melton?" "yes, go ahead," came the faint reply. "quick, they are coming!" cried canaris in sudden excitement, and as he spoke a yell went up close at hand, and three or four dark figures turned the corner of the nearest slave-prison. a big somali was in the lead, and, spying melton, he raised his spear. "you fiend!" cried guy, and, lifting a loose stone from the wall, he hurled it down. it struck the spear from the rascal's hand, and, before he could recover himself, guy and canaris had dragged melton to the top of the wall by a prodigious effort. "down, down!" cried canaris, and as they crouched low three or four spears went over their heads and a hoarse shout of rage went up from the baffled somalis that was caught up and repeated far back into the town. "keep cool," cautioned canaris; "the ropes are up; they can't reach us. five minutes more, and----" the words froze on his lips. loud above the shouts of the savages rose a harsh, metallic sound that vibrated in shuddering echoes through the night air. it was the beating of the tomtom at the emir's palace. an electric circuit could not have more speedily roused the town. a vast, sullen roar went up instantly, and then, mingled with the clang of the tomtom and the tumult of the people, rang out a harsh rattle of alarm-drums that swelled and spread until every oval watch-turret on the town walls was sounding the tocsin announcing to the subjects of rao khan the escape of the hated englishmen. chapter xv. the pursuit. "now for it," cried canaris. "don't be scared. in two minutes we'll be out of reach of these fiends." his appearance belied his words, for he was trembling with fright. the rope about melton's legs had not been loosened, and he was instantly lowered on the other side. in less time than it takes to tell, guy and canaris had joined him, and all three felt the solid earth beneath their feet again. the situation was now extremely critical. the tomtom still rang out from the palace, and the drums were beating in the watch-towers, though their volume of sound could be heard but faintly above the constantly increasing roar of the maddened people. the fugitives had scaled the wall at a point on the western side of the city very close to the southern angle; the western gate was still more remote, and from these gates the pursuit must come. that it would come quickly no one could doubt, for the rabble of somalis who had led the chase through the market-place had by this time reached the gates with the tidings of the fugitives' escape over the wall. canaris took a bag and a rifle and guy followed his example. not a second of time was lost, but, turning to the southwest, they dashed down the long, slanting hill toward the valley that opened clear and distinct at their feet. their ears rang with the horrid din and turmoil, and this spurred them on to greater efforts as they plunged forward with great strides. at the angle of the wall stood a watch-tower, and from this coign of vantage the guards saw the fleeing fugitives, outlined by the treacherous moonlight. crack! crack! crack! rang their rifles, and the bullets whistled keenly through the air, but the flying figures went straight on and speedily vanished over the crest of the hill. the valley beneath the town was skimmed across, and then, scaling a low stone wall, they plunged into the shadow of a big plantation and ran on between rows of limes and coffee trees. guy feared that the arabs who owned these orchards would join in the pursuit, but canaris assured him that there was little danger of that. an uproar in the town, he declared, was always the signal for the dwellers outside the walls to shut themselves in their houses. a danger from another source, however, threatened them, for with a furious growl a great dog came bounding on behind, and by his loud outcry made the location of the fugitives very plain to their enemies. the brute persistently followed them up, snapping at their heels, and baying loudly. no stones could be found, and to use firearms would only make matters worse. on the farther side of the plantation, however, the dog stopped and uttered a long-drawn howl that was caught up in echoes across the valley. "i'm giving out," cried melton faintly. "you'll have to leave me." canaris turned on him fiercely. "do you hear the mad fiends howling behind us? they are scattering over the country, and if we are caught, good by," and he whipped his hand across his throat. "you must keep up, only half a mile more, and i'll hide you so securely that the fiends can never find us." "year hear?" added guy. "only half a mile more, melton, and then rest." but all this encouragement was of little use. forbes was suffering now from the reaction, and his strength was almost gone. a sound of shouting suddenly rose from the valley, and taking melton by the arms they fairly dragged him along. a hill now loomed up before them, and clutching stones and limbs of trees they made their way painfully to the summit. looking toward the town they could see torches moving to and fro across the valley, and twinkling through the leafy avenues of the plantation. their old enemy, the dog, began to howl again, but a rifle-shot speedily cut his career short. as they hastened down the western slope of the hill the sound of water broke on their hearing, and then the stream came in view, a swift and narrow torrent brawling over rocks and ledges. guy ran ahead, and filling his helmet, offered it to melton, who drank deeply. "i feel like a new man," he cried; "that was splendid." canaris now led them down the stream for some distance until a shallow place permitted them to wade across. the valley had become a gorge. the sloping hills gave way to great frowning masses of rock so high and so close that no moonlight pierced the shadows. finally the greek stopped and pointed above his head. "we must climb the rocks," he said. "are you equal to it?" melton looked dubiously at the steep side of the gorge, but before he could reply canaris started up, and he had no alternative but to follow. guy came close behind to catch his friend if he should give out. the ascent, however, was not so bad as it looked. canaris picked his way with great skill, winding along the face of the cliff in a zigzag manner. had it been daylight dizziness would have caused them to lose their heads, for the gulf below grew deeper every moment, and at places the path was but a foot wide. at length canaris climbed over a big rock that barred the way, and then assisted melton and guy to the top. "here we are," he said cheerily, "and just as safe as though we were in the acropolis at athens." they stood on a small plateau, protected by a low parapet of jagged rocks that extended in a half circle. the top of the cliff was close over their heads, and behind them was a natural grotto scooped concavely out of the solid rock. it was a perfect hiding place and a splendid point of defense in case of an attack. melton dropped feebly on the stone floor, and guy and the greek sat down against the parapet. reaction had come to all of them. now they were really safe, the terror and excitement of the flight was visible on their faces. their clothes were soaking wet, and the perspiration rolled down their cheeks. "look," exclaimed canaris, leaning over the parapet, "look down there!" he pointed into the gorge, and guy, glancing down, saw torches flaring against the rocky walls, revealing in their glow dark, swiftly-moving figures, and weird shadows dancing on the waters of the torrent. canaris observed guy's expression of alarm, for he said calmly: "don't fear. we are perfectly safe; try and sleep some; you need rest badly." canaris stretched himself out flat, and, after making sure that melton was sleeping--for the poor fellow's weariness was greater than the pain of the wound--guy, too, lay down on the hard rock, and fell instantly asleep. dawn had been very near when they reached their hiding place. through the early hours of the morning they slept on, heedless of the loud cries, the sounds of anger and wrath that floated up from the shadows of the gorge, and when the sun was past its meridian, guy awoke. canaris stretched himself and sat up at the same time. their first thought was of melton. he was still sleeping, but it was a restless, uneasy slumber, for he tossed about and moaned. the heat was now very great, and they suffered terribly from thirst. far below they could hear the water rushing over its stony bed, and the sound was maddening. even had one dared to attempt that perilous descent in the broad light of day, there would have been danger from another source, for all that afternoon somalis and arabs in large and small parties passed up and down the gorge, even scanning at times the rocky sides of the cliff, but never for a moment suspecting the close proximity of those they sought. at last melton awoke. he was weak and feverish. his wound had opened, and his clothes were heavy with stiffened blood. he complained bitterly of thirst, and talked at times in a rambling, excited manner. "he's in a bad way," said the greek. "we must leave here as soon as night comes, and as he is too ill to walk, he must be carried." "what do you propose to do?" asked guy. "well," rejoined canaris, "we shall travel only at night. if all goes well, we will be fifty miles distant in four or five days, and on the fifth night we shall reach our journey's end." "our journey's end?" queried guy. "yes; of our land-journey at least, for we shall then be at the entrance to the underground river." chapter xvi. besieged. the african sun had gone down, leaving only a reddish tinge against the western horizon, when the three fugitives left their refuge and climbed to the top of the cliff. in the dim twilight it was impossible to make out the country which lay vaguely outspread at their feet. canaris made a rude stretcher of branches, and, arranging melton as comfortably as possible, they started away. the top of the gorge sloped on this side into a valley, and following this for some distance they finally reached more open country. no trace of their pursuers was seen. they had all gone back to harar, for none ever remained outside the walls at night, canaris declared. soon a small stream was reached, where they lunched and quenched their thirst. canaris washed melton's wound, and bound it up in soft, wet bandages. after a while the moon came out, and they could see for some distance on either side. it seemed strange to reflect that they were now traveling through a vast and absolutely unexplored part of africa. all was wild and desolate, for harar and its vicinity once left behind, no villages or habitations were found. the cries of various animals echoed from the forest, and once a lion roared loudly; but without molestation from man or beast our little party toiled on painfully until dawn. they carried melton every step of the way, and when they halted in a glade close to a pool, he was sleeping soundly. either the fresh water or the long rest had helped him, for when night came again he was able to walk, and day by day he grew better. for three nights they journeyed to the southward, sleeping all day in secluded spots. the wisdom of night travel was plainly seen, for they often discovered camp fires gleaming on each side of them, and on one occasion nearly ran into a wandering group of gallas, while from their hiding place during the day they saw caravans and hordes of natives journeying to and fro. the night had its disadvantages too, for twice they were attacked by howling animals, and on one occasion had to climb trees while a herd of elephants went trumpeting past. fortunately, more dangerous beasts kept their distance. the third night's journey led them through a most unusually rich and fertile country, miles of mellow pasturage watered by many streams, bits of forest land, and meadows clumped with bushes and patches of trees, while on both sides were the dark profiles of huge mountains. that day they slept on the side of a hill among great rocks, and when they were preparing to start at sundown, canaris said briefly: "we ought to reach our journey's end before morning." of the stores they had brought along there now remained but a handful of crumbs. guy was deeply concerned over the question of supplies for their voyage in case the underground river was discovered, but canaris bade him not to worry until the time came. with feelings which it would be difficult to describe, they resumed their night-march. an unknown future, full of terrors and fears, yawned before them. it is hard to say what guided canaris in the direction he took. he had once been over the ground, but it was scarcely possible that he could remember the road so well. he strode on full of confidence, however, his rifle over his shoulder and his revolver ready for use in his right hand. guy and melton followed behind in single file. they made slow progress, for canaris led them in among mountain gorges, and they were compelled to ford streams and clamber painfully over big stones. at last they emerged again on more open ground and traveled through patches of waving grass and scrub, keeping parallel all the while with two mountain ranges that lay to the right and left. the land was full of rolling swells like ocean waves, and as they passed over the crest of one of these ridges a sudden gleam of moonlight shining on water some distance off riveted their attention. as they descended into the hollow it was hidden from view. several times the greek halted and scrutinized his surroundings closely. he was not altogether satisfied, for he no longer strode on confidently, but walked with a hesitating step. guy and melton shared his anxiety. "what's wrong?" inquired the former. "have you missed the way, canaris?" "i don't know," replied the greek. "we must stop soon and wait for daylight. we ought to be close to the stone kraal by this time." while conversing they had crossed another slight swell, and they were half way down the hollow when a hoarse cry from melton brought them to a halt. the scene before them was enough to appall the stoutest heart. twenty yards away lay a broad pool of water and along its sandy edge were grouped half a dozen great lions, some lapping up the water greedily, others sitting lazily on their haunches, waiting no doubt for some fat deer to pass that way. a low chorus of growls greeted the approach of the travelers, and made them shiver from head to foot. "shall i fire?" whispered guy excitedly. "no, for your life, no," retorted canaris. "back up the hill as silently as possible. don't shoot unless we are attacked." with arms in readiness they moved backward step by step. the lions began to pace up and down the strip of sand, tossing their shaggy heads toward the frightened men, and then the leader, a monstrous fellow with a mane that swept the ground, advanced a few paces and uttered a tremendous roar that seemed to shake the earth. guy cocked his rifle, but at the sharp click canaris turned on him fiercely. "don't shoot," he whispered. "don't shoot. if we can get over the ridge we may escape. i don't think they will attack us." in a moment more they reached the crest of the slope. the lions were still down by the pool. "look," exclaimed canaris, pointing to the right. "do you see those rocks! we must make a run for them." the spot referred to was a dim mass rising out of the plain some fifty yards distant. whether they really were rocks or not it was hard to tell. another fearful roar put an end to indecision, and they ran at the top of their speed toward the hoped-for refuge. no one glanced behind. in imagination they felt the hot breath on their necks and heard the soft patter through the grass. then the refuge was before them, a tall column of rock rising from a clump of jungle grass and some low, stunted timber. it towered up in ledges and in a trice canaris had sprung upon the first platform, and extended a helping hand to his companions. with frantic haste they climbed another jutting ledge and pulled themselves to the top. none too soon, for as they turned to look, the big lion sprang into the air and landed with a roar of baffled rage on the ledge beneath. he rose instantly for another spring, but as he reared upward guy brought down the butt of his rifle on the massive head, and the beast rolled down into the grass at the foot of the rock. another lion loomed up in the shadows, and together the two paced about, lashing their tails and growling with fury. "that was a narrow escape," said guy. "a moment more and we would have been caught." "we're not altogether safe yet," replied canaris. "those are hungry looking brutes, and it's hard to tell what they may do. we must remain quiet and watch them closely." the two lions continued to prowl up and down, licking their chops and occasionally glancing at the top of the rock. suddenly they halted in the middle of their beat, and, pricking up their ears, assumed an expectant attitude. "they hear something," said guy. "i wonder what it can be." for a full minute the two noble beasts stood like bits of statuary, not a muscle quivering, their tails slowly waving to and fro. then with a couple of bounds they vanished in the high grass. "the siege is raised," exclaimed guy, breathing a low sigh of relief. "hush," replied canaris, "not a sound, not a whisper for your lives. down, down, crouch low; throw yourselves flat!" his voice was tremulous with sudden fear, and his hand shook as he pointed one nerveless finger in the direction taken by the lions. "look, look!" he muttered with chattering teeth. "one sound and we are doomed." chapter xvii. a close shave. the greek's extreme terror sprang from no insignificant cause. over the crest of a ridge some thirty yards distant came a large body of men. it was very evident that they would pass close to the rock, and the three fugitives, crouching on its flat surface in the gloom, may well be pardoned for believing that the enemy were on their track. as the advance guard drew still closer, canaris thrust his face against the stone. melton did the same; but guy, whose curiosity fairly mastered his fear, ventured to raise his head slightly, and a single glance showed him that the strange foe had no intention of halting. they passed within ten yards of the rock, it is true, but not a man looked to right or left, and they moved at a rapid and steady pace. guy's amazement grew deeper as the long procession went by in constantly increasing numbers, for even to his unskilled eyes it was plain that these men were neither arabs nor somalis. the dim light revealed their powerful stature, the dark faces crowned with turbans, the linen cloaks that were flung carelessly on their shoulders, and the various arms, comprising shields, swords, spears, and even guns. at intervals the stalwart figure of a man towered above the rest, mounted high on a camel or an elephant. melton and canaris ventured to raise their heads in response to a nudge from guy, and all three witnessed the passing of this strange procession, which comprised nearly a hundred men. as the rear guard vanished over a ridge to the south, canaris, without a word, swung himself nimbly to the ground and picked up some glittering object that lay in the path. "look," he exclaimed in a tone of wonder, as guy and melton followed him down, "do you recognize this workmanship? but no, how could you?" he resumed, without waiting for an answer. "this weapon is of abyssinian make, and those men were abyssinians." "but what are they doing here, so far from their own country?" demanded guy. "it is a war party," said canaris, "and we are not so far from the borders of abyssinia, after all. it is no uncommon thing for them to raid on the gallas." the dagger passed from hand to hand, and was inspected with much curiosity, until canaris pointed toward the east and said: "morning has come, and the sun will soon be up. let us climb the rock and make a survey of the country." daylight came on with marvelous rapidity, and as the range of vision gradually became clear for a distance of several miles, the greek rose to his feet and scanned the surroundings with a sweeping gaze. his countenance expressed first perplexity, then delighted surprise, and turning to his companions he cried: "we have reached our destination. see! there is the stone kraal, those scattered columns of rock to the south that rise from the jungle. yes, the old englishman was right, for yonder lies the elephant peak and the lion's head." it was indeed as the greek said. the broad valley was dotted with a curious rock formation that bore a strong likeness to a native village of huts, and on either side of the valley, from the rugged chains of mountains, rose two lofty peaks, one fashioned like a recumbent elephant, the other a perfect semblance of a lion's shaggy head. a murmur of surprise burst from the trio as they gazed along on this strange verification of their hopes. the mountain peaks were at least four miles distant, for the breadth of the valley was about eight. for the moment the recent passage of the warlike abyssinians was forgotten. then a very significant occurrence recalled it forcibly to their minds. from the base of the lion's head suddenly rose a column of yellow smoke, and two or three gun shots echoed distinctly across the valley. "the abyssinians have attacked the town of the gallas," cried canaris. "it lies at the foot of that peak, and is the same kraal at which the englishman was kept in slavery when he discovered the underground river." "i hope they'll eat each other up like the kilkenny cats," observed guy coolly. "but you don't understand," cried the greek in strange excitement. "they will scatter over the valley, they will flee to those rocks yonder for protection, and unless we find the entrance to that river at once we are lost." "canaris is right," spoke up melton. "we must make immediate search for the rock with the cross. it is our only hope." "yes, our only hope," echoed the greek. "come quickly, there is no time to lose." he slipped to the ground and led his companions rapidly down the valley toward the stone village. they hastened on among the scattered rocks for a quarter of a mile or more, until the extreme southern edge was reached, and then canaris stopped. "this is the south side," he said; "we must search the rocks for one with a cross." they scattered, guy toward the west, melton to the east. it was a time of peril, for the yellow smoke was curling up over the lion's head in heavier columns, and the firing was more distinct, as though the conflict were spreading toward them across the valley. "the rock with the cross, on the south side of the stone kraal." a simple enough direction on the face of it, and yet the eager searchers, as they hurried from stone to stone, scrutinizing every side and angle, failed to discover the faintest trace of anything resembling a cross. canaris wrung his hands in dismay when they came together after the fruitless search. "we are lost, we are lost!" he groaned. "what will become of us? go, make another search; inspect the base of every stone; the hidden entrance must exist." guy shook his head. "that cross was made twenty years ago," he said. "in that time the storms could have destroyed all trace of it unless the englishman carved it very deep, and in that event we should have discovered it already." "it must be found," persisted canaris in his terror. "hark! the firing is coming nearer. in half an hour the valley will swarm with savage foes. go! go! go!" he fairly shrieked out the last words, and threw himself in despair down amid the jungle grass. the greek did not exaggerate the danger. a startling confirmation of his fears was at hand. warned in time by a commotion in the bushes, guy and melton dropped flat, as a savage, spear in hand, and bleeding from a wound in the head, burst out of the jungle twenty yards distant and made full speed for a rock a few yards to the north of that by which the englishmen lay concealed. all unconscious of the three pairs of eyes watching his movements, he stooped, flung the tangled grass madly aside, and, rolling a loose stone from the base of the rock, revealed a dark cavity in the smooth side. he threw a frightened glance in the direction he had come, and, dropping his spear and diving into the hole, pulled the stone back in place from within. all this happened in less time than it takes to tell. "saved!" burst thankfully from guy's lips as he sprang to his feet. "saved!" echoed melton and canaris. snatching up their baggage, they dashed across the narrow space that divided the two great boulders. guy tore the rock from the entrance, and, as the imprisoned savage within uttered a hoarse cry, he pointed his rifle at the opening. "go ahead," called out melton; "he's unarmed; he can't harm you." guy hesitated for an instant, and then crawled into the forbidding cavern on hands and knees. a distant sound of scuffling and rattling of stones told that the savage was retreating into the bowels of the earth. melton handed in the rifles and the baggage, and crawled in after them. canaris was the last to enter, and with melton's aid the stone, which was round in shape, was pulled back against the entrance, and all was darkness, save for one crevice an inch or two wide. the greek peered sharply through this, and then exclaimed in a low whisper: "we are just in time. a party of abyssinians are approaching through the jungle in pursuit of the galla fugitive. "hush!" he added; "don't make a sound; they are coming directly toward the rock." chapter xviii. the underground river. a moment of terrible suspense followed the greek's announcement. from without could be plainly heard a chorus of angry shouts as the abyssinians searched for their missing prey. then the sounds grew fainter and canaris said quietly: "they have gone on past the rock. we had better strike a light and see what has become of that black rascal. i cannot understand how he knew anything about this place. it may not be the proper entrance after all." one of the bronze lamps was filled with palm oil and lighted, and guy undertook to lead the way into the depths of the cavern. the passage was amply large enough to hold two or three men standing up, but it led downward at a very sharp angle. the journey was performed in silence, and after traveling ten or fifteen minutes guy stopped. a vast empty space was before him, and at his feet lay a sharp slope of loose earth. here were seen the tracks of the savage, and without hesitation guy began the descent, and half crawling, half sliding, reached firm ground a few yards below. melton and canaris were close behind, and together they went up into the vast expanse of the cavern. under foot was hard, compact sand, and in a moment more the glare of the lamp was reflected on running water, and they stood on the brink of the mysterious underground river. "we have found it!" exclaimed canaris exultingly. "the englishman was right." it was impossible to judge of the width of the stream. it might be very narrow and it might be very broad. the flowing water made not a sound, and yet the current was swift, for a bit of paper that melton tossed in was snatched from sight immediately. as they gazed on this strange sight with emotions that it would be impossible to describe, a vague, shadowy object passed down the stream and vanished in the darkness. "there goes that fellow," cried guy. "he has escaped in a canoe," and hastening up along the shore, waving the lamp in front of him, he uttered a cry of astonishment that echoed through the cavern and brought his companions quickly to his side. drawn back a few yards from the water lay two long, heavy canoes, and a sharp furrow in the sand leading to the river's edge showed that a third canoe had recently stood beside the others. half a dozen rude paddles were strewn on the sand. the savage had evidently been in such haste to escape that the thought of turning the other canoes adrift, and thus eluding pursuit, never entered his head. beyond the canoes, further progress was blocked by masses of earth. "this was the abode of that strange race of natives," said guy solemnly, "and under those stones they have lain buried since the earthquake years ago." he turned and led the way down the stream. fifteen yards below lay another jutting mass of earth. this was the extent of the cavern, a beach fifty yards long running back to the narrow passage and terminated by walls of earth; beyond was darkness and the river, running none knew where. yet the only hope of seeing home and friends, vague and uncertain as it was, rested with this mysterious, cavernous stream. it might lead to the coast and safety, but far more likely death and destruction awaited anyone daring enough to trust himself to its treacherous current. "the sea is hundreds of miles away," said guy gloomily, as he sat down on the sand and placed the lamp carefully beside him. "how are we going to live through such a journey as that? even now our last bit of food is gone, and where shall we get more?" canaris pondered a moment before he ventured to reply. "i see but one plan," he said finally. "at nightfall we must visit the burned village. the enemy will have gone by then, and we may discover abandoned provisions." "if we could shoot any game----" began melton, but guy interrupted him. "the fighting has scared everything away from the vicinity," he remarked. "yes, that is true," said the greek. "the animals have fled to the mountains, and, besides, oko sam and his tribe of gallas keep the game well thinned out." "what did you say?" cried guy, springing to his feet in excitement. "is this oko sam's village yonder that the abyssinians have raided?" the greek nodded assent. "yes, oko sam is the chief." "then sir arthur ashby and colonel carrington are close at hand," exclaimed guy. "and momba," added melton fervently. "all may be saved yet." "and was it to oko sam your comrades were sold as slaves?" cried canaris. "why did you not mention his name before? i could have told you this long ago." "i never thought of it," rejoined guy. "i gave them up as lost forever. alas! they are probably in the hands of the abyssinians now." "either that or dead," said the greek, "but undoubtedly the former, for menelek, the abyssinian king, is fond of white captives, and their lives would be spared if they fell into the hands of the raiding party." "and how shall we find out?" demanded guy. "i will not embark on this river until uncertainty about their fate is removed." "when darkness comes we will leave the cavern," replied canaris. "it is possible we shall learn something. until then have patience." the hours of tedious waiting were a little relieved by a discovery that melton made. in some of the canoes he found a couple of rude bone fishhooks. this seemed pretty fair proof that fish existed in the underground river, and as guy happened to have a roll of cord, three strong lines were constructed and laid away for possible future use. when, to the best of their judgments, evening was close at hand, they started back through the passage and reached the entrance shortly before ten o'clock. darkness soon came on, and as all seemed quiet they ventured to roll back the stone and crawl out. far across the valley a faint glow was visible against the somber sky, probably from the smoldering embers of the burned village, while directly north of the cavern, in the vicinity of the pool of water where the lions had been encountered the previous night, a number of camp fires were twinkling merrily through the scattered boulders. "this is the camp of the abyssinians," declared canaris without hesitation. "one of us must spy into it and see if your friends are prisoners; another must go to the village for provisions, and a third man should remain here at the mouth of the cavern." this proposed division of the forces did not please guy and melton. "why must a man remain at the cavern?" demanded chutney. "to mark the place in case one of us is pursued and loses his bearings in the darkness," was the greek's calm reply. guy saw the advisability of this and made no further objection. after brief discussion it was decided that he should remain on guard, while canaris visited the village and forbes reconnoitered the abyssinian camp. without any delay they started off on their respective missions, and guy was left alone. for a while he paced up and down before the cavern, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, and then sitting down on the round stone he reflected over his perilous situation and the strange train of events that had led up to it. the stars shining down on him from the blackness of the african sky seemed to whisper of his far-away english home and the friends he would probably never see again. then he thought of his comrades in india and the expedition he had so fondly hoped to join, that even now was fighting its way through the hills of chittagong. his reverie was broken by a sharp "hist!" and forbes glided swiftly out of the gloom. "no, they have not been captured," he whispered in response to guy's eager inquiries. "i was around the camp on all sides. the abyssinians have secured some galla prisoners, and among them the chief himself, oko sam, but none of our friends are there. i am terribly afraid they have been massacred, chutney." "we will know when the greek returns," replied guy, who did not care to admit his belief that melton was right. they sat down together by the rock and conversed in low tones. an hour passed and then another. "canaris should be here by this time," said guy uneasily. "can anything have happened to him, i wonder?" almost as he spoke a muffled trampling sound was heard, two huge objects loomed out of the darkness ahead, and as guy's hand trembled on the trigger of his rifle the greek's familiar voice uttered a low exclamation and he advanced slowly, leading two big camels loaded down with trappings. "well by jove----" began guy, but canaris checked him instantly. "not so loud. i picked up these animals only a quarter of a mile back. they have strayed away from the abyssinian camp." "but tell me, what have you discovered?" exclaimed guy. "and you have brought no food. must we starve, then?" chapter xix. a daring expedition. "i have discovered this," replied canaris. "the gallas are preparing for an attack; fresh men have come in from distant towns. they are encamped at the edge of the burned village, and in a small hut, which is surrounded by guards, your friends, i am confident, are confined. the struggle was a severe one, for the ground is strewn with dead, both gallas and abyssinians. i could find no food, and what we are to do i cannot tell. to attempt a rescue would be madness, and yet our sufferings would only end the sooner. without food we can make no use of the river, and escape in any other way is equally impossible." canaris threw himself on the ground and buried his face in his hands. guy stood in silence, his face stern and set, a silence that remained unbroken for five minutes. in that space of time his fertile mind had sought a way out of the difficulty and grasped an expedient so daring, so preposterous, that he hesitated to frame it in words. his face betrayed something of his emotions, for forbes and canaris exclaimed eagerly: "what is it, chutney? you have thought of something, have you?" "yes," said guy. "i have. as you say, the case is desperate. if my plan fails we can be no worse off. what i have resolved to do is this: forbes will remain at the cavern. you and i, canaris, will stain our faces to pass for portuguese, and mounted on these camels, we will ride boldly into the camp of the gallas and proclaim ourselves messengers from makar makalo at zaila. we will say that the english are pressing the town hard, that they agree to withdraw on condition that the english prisoners are returned safe and sound, and that makar has sent us to bring them to the coast. we will add, furthermore, that we came as far as yonder mountains with a caravan bound for harar, and to allay any suspicions they may have, we will ask for an escort of two men to accompany us to zaila and receive the money which makar will pay for the safe delivery of the englishmen. if all goes well they will give up our friends and load us with provisions for a long journey. the escort we can easily dispose of, and then for the river and freedom!" guy snapped his fingers exultantly as he concluded the recital of his daring plan and waited to see how his friends would receive it. "marvelous!" cried forbes, drawing a long breath. "yes, it is marvelous," added the greek, "truly marvelous. if it succeeds it will be a miracle indeed. but suppose they have received recent news from zaila, or that our disguise is penetrated?" "as for that," replied guy coolly, "we must take the chances. i should fear recognition most from oko sam, but he is fortunately a prisoner among the abyssinians. make up your minds quickly. do you agree to my proposal or not? perhaps you can devise a better plan." "we will try it," said canaris, decidedly. "it must be done at once, for at daybreak the gallas will advance to attack the abyssinians. make your preparations and we will be off." stepping up to the camels, which were quietly grazing on the jungle grass, he proceeded to remove every part of their trappings which would betray its abyssinian make, until only the simple covering remained. with a cry of delight he held up two white burnouses that had been fastened to the saddle bags, and said: "with these on and our faces darkened it will take a clever man to penetrate our disguise in the night time." it was not such an easy matter to stain their faces, but with the application of a little moist earth from the mouth of the cavern, it was finally accomplished to their satisfaction, and after a hasty review of their plans and a code of instructions for melton's guidance during their absence, the two daring adventurers mounted their camels and rode slowly off into the darkness toward the hostile camp of the gallas. it was very near midnight, and as they trotted briskly across the desert, sounds of mirth floated on the air from the camp where the abyssinians were making merry over their victory, serenely ignorant of the surprise that dawn was to bring them. the distant glow ahead seemed to come nearer and nearer with every stride of the camels, and guy could hardly believe that nearly four miles had been traversed when canaris pointed out the camp just in front of them. it was too late to think of retreat now, for already the approach of the camels was detected and a host of dark figures were visible moving across the still glowing embers. fearful of an attack, canaris shouted out loudly, "makar makalo! makar makalo!" and then, lashing his beast, they galloped into the very center of a turbulent throng, who crowded around them with blazing torches. canaris knew barely enough of the language to request an interpreter and the head man of the tribe, and the savages, awed for a moment by the fierce manner in which he made these demands, fell back a little, and guy had opportunity to observe his surroundings. he was in a corner of the village which seemed to have escaped the worst of the fray, for a dozen or more huts were standing, and the largest of these was encircled by a dozen heavily armed men. his heart beat fast at the thought that sir arthur and colonel carrington were confined within. just then a huge savage, wearing a leopard skin about his waist, advanced through the crowd, which fell back at his approach. he was accompanied by a small, weazened arab who at once demanded if the newcomers could "spik inglis?" "go ahead now," whispered canaris, "and luck be with you. that big fellow is the head man." for a moment guy could find no voice, and failure stared him in the face. the horrified expression on the greek's countenance broke the spell, and raising his voice he said clearly and distinctly: "tell your master we are portuguese who have come from zaila at the bidding of makar makalo, the ruler." the arab communicated this piece of news in a loud tone that drew a murmur of surprise from the people, but brought no response from the chief, who merely stared impudently. "the english have made an attack on zaila by land and sea," guy went on in a louder voice. "the town is at their mercy. they have promised makar to withdraw on condition that the british governor of the town and his friend, who were taken and sold into slavery, be delivered up to them safely. therefore makar makalo has sent us to demand of you the two englishmen, a supply of food for the journey, and an escort back to zaila. for this he agrees to reward you well. we came as far as yonder mountain with a caravan bound for harar, and as there is great need of haste we would start on our return at once." this long speech the arab likewise proclaimed aloud, and with the utmost anxiety guy and canaris watched its effect on the people. they heard it in ominous silence, and the chief spoke a few words to his interpreter, who instantly turned to guy and announced, in very imperfect english, that nothing could be done until oko sam was released from his captivity. he told briefly of the attack on the village, of their plan of surprising the abyssinians at daybreak, and concluded by inviting them to dismount and await the result of the fight. it was evident at least that nothing was suspected. so far they had played their part to perfection. but here was an unexpected hindrance. the leader refused to act without the sanction of oko sam, and a delay would be fatal. "insist on it," whispered canaris hurriedly; "it is our only chance." "tell your master we cannot wait," replied guy, in well feigned anger. "every moment is precious, and we must hasten back to makar makalo. give us the englishmen at once or we will go away without them and tell makar makalo how you have treated his messengers." this bold declaration had its effect. the chief withdrew to a little distance and held a long conference with half a dozen of his companions. guy and canaris remained calm and motionless on their camels, haughtily scanning the sea of threatening black faces that hemmed them in on all sides. their only ground for hope rested in the fear which makar makalo, by his summary dealings with these tribes, had inspired in them. the single motive which in all probability hindered the head man from acceding at once to their demands was the dread of oko sam's displeasure in case that despotic monarch were rescued in the morning. the eager confab was still going on as strenuously as ever when a tumult arose from the outskirts of the throng, and presently, amid hoarse cheering and applause, a man broke through the parted ranks of the people and limped feebly into the open space. it was oko sam! chapter xx. by a hair's breadth. a nervous shiver passed through guy as he recognized the repulsive face of his old enemy, and instinctively he pulled his burnouse closer around his head. oko sam darted a curious glance at the two motionless figures on the camels and then advanced to meet the head man, who broke off the conference and greeted his newly arrived chief in a most servile manner. "don't despair," whispered guy; "those infernal abyssinians have become drunk and allowed their captive to slip away just at this critical time, but all may go well yet." it took but a short time to make oko sam acquainted with the facts of the case. he strode up to the camels, and gazed long and haughtily at the two strangers. then, apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, he addressed a few words to the weazened arab, and, turning to his people, jabbered away volubly for two or three minutes. when he ceased, half a dozen men started off in different directions, and the interpreter proceeded to communicate the decision to guy, who, in spite of his calm exterior, was greatly agitated. "oko sam say yes," began the arab. "he friend of makar makalo; he no want makar lose zaila; he give plenty food for journey; he give six, ten, twenty men go long, so bring back much gift from makar. you say makar give much, hey?" "yes," replied guy, repressing with difficulty his extreme joy, "makar will give big rewards to oko sam." the arab turned aside with a grunt of satisfaction as half a dozen natives came up, bearing leathern sacks of provisions, which were handed up, one at a time, to guy and canaris, and slung across the necks of their camels. this proceeding was barely over, when, to guy's amazement and disgust, a band of gallas, fully armed, and bearing each a supply of food strapped on their backs, advanced into the open space. this was oko sam's promised escort! instead of two men there were twenty. "these good fellows here go long," said the arab. "they no have camels; they go on foot one day's journey, then reach other tribe, where find plenty camel." this statement relieved guy considerably. it would not be so difficult, after all, to get rid of the troublesome escort if they were on foot. and now came the crisis. at a signal from oko sam the guards about the hut flung open the entrance, and in a moment two emaciated, half starved figures were led forth, whom it was actually difficult to recognize as the pompous sir arthur ashby and brave colonel carrington. they still wore their uniforms, but the cloth hung in folds about their shrunken limbs, and their faces were pitifully thin and distressed. guy's heart beat fast with indignation as he gazed on this melancholy sight, and then he purposely half turned his face away, lest the prisoners should recognize him and unconsciously cause the failure of the whole plan. the people drew back as the little group reached the camels. the two englishmen were lifted up behind the supposed portuguese--sir arthur with canaris, the colonel beside chutney--and so weak and helpless were they that it was necessary to partially strap them in their places. all was now ready. guy and canaris were prepared to start, the prisoners were in their possession, and the armed escort were exchanging farewells with their comrades. at this supreme moment, when the fullest success seemed assured, a startling diversion occurred. a big arab, a new arrival evidently, pushed his way forward, and as his glance fell on the greek he started with surprise, and exclaimed aloud, "canaris!" with wonderful self possession the greek looked at him in mute ignorance; but the arab, who had probably but just come from harar, pressed forward, and, joining oko sam a few paces away, began to talk excitedly in a low voice. "we are lost, chutney," whispered canaris in tones of despair. at the mention of this name, guy felt the colonel's arms clasp his waist in a convulsive thrill. "not a sound, colonel carrington," he muttered under his breath, "as you value your freedom." the tightened grasp instantly relaxed, and guy turned his head slightly to obtain a clearer view of oko sam. this action hastened the climax, for his burnous caught on the button of colonel carrington's coat and fell to the ground. a glaring torch passing at the moment completed the catastrophe, and the keen eyed galla chief uttered a howl of rage and amazement as he recognized his old enemy of the market place at berbera. never did captain chutney's quick wits do him a better service than at that moment. in one glance he took in the whole situation, the astounded chief and his counselors, the swarthy mass of savages ready for instant action, the armed escort that stood between him and the edge of the encampment. more speedily than words can tell it, his determination was reached. with a warning cry to canaris, a hasty injunction to colonel carrington to hold fast, he snatched a short dagger from his waist and plunged it an inch or more into the flank of the greek's camel, and then into that of his own animal. the frightened and agonized beasts pranced madly for a second or two and then plunged desperately forward, trampling the amazed guards right and left. it was over in a moment; a howl from the infuriated chief, a terrific uproar from the vast throng, and then, spurred to greater efforts by the tumult in their ears, the valiant camels thundered out into the desert, heedless of the scattered rifle-fire, the volley of whizzing spears. with tremendous strides they bore their precious burdens toward safety and freedom, while the silence of the african night was rent by the venomous cries of their bloodthirsty pursuers. for the moment they were safe, but in that long four mile race that lay ahead many perils might be encountered, and it was even within the realm of possibilities that the fleet-footed gallas would overtake the heavily-burdened camels. it was no time for conversation or explanation. a fervent "thank god!" burst from colonel carrington's lips as he realized that he had fallen into the hands of friends, while sir arthur, feebly beginning to comprehend what had happened, ejaculated several times, "bless my soul," as he clung with might and main to the greek's waist. faster and faster they sped over the plain, until the tumult behind them was lost in the muffled tramp of the camels' hoofs. they rode side by side, with arms ready for instant use, but no foe appeared in front or behind, and at last, with a glad cry, canaris pointed to the distant gleam of the abyssinian camp. "we are safe now," exclaimed guy. "the gallas feared to pursue us any further lest their anticipated attack on the abyssinians should be spoiled." "yes," replied canaris, "either that or they have circled round, hoping to cut us off at yonder gap in the mountains where the road breaks through to the coast. and now the rock must be close by. ha! what does that mean?" bang! went a rifle shot directly ahead, and a brief red flash pierced the gloom. "it is forbes!" cried chutney. "he is in danger. quick, quick, to the rescue." a loud shout followed closely on the heels of the report, and recognizing melton's voice, guy, lost to all sense of prudence, cried aloud: "don't give in forbes; we are coming." an answering hail came distinctly back, followed immediately by a second shot. the agony of suspense was brief. a moment later the rock loomed into view, and the panting camels came to a halt before the entrance to the cavern. "oh, you've come back safe?" exclaimed melton coolly, as he came forward with a smoking rifle in his hand. "i've had a brush with a party of abyssinians. they were hunting their camels, i suppose, and took me by surprise. i dropped one of the rascals, and----look out! there they are again." all dodged to the ground as a shower of spears fell about the rock. with a hollow groan one of the camels dropped heavily over, pierced in the throat by a short spear, and his huge bulk formed a natural barrier before the cavern. melton's rifle cracked sharply and a howl of pain attested the accuracy of his aim. "into the cavern, all of you," cried guy. "the abyssinians are coming in force; the firing has attracted them to the spot." already a shadowy mass was visible some hundred yards off, and the sound of voices was distinctly heard. the greek hastily motioned sir arthur and the colonel into the cavern, and hurriedly tossed in the provisions bag by bag. the enemy were now quite close, and as canaris stowed away the last bag they came on with a wild rush. from behind the dead camel guy and melton poured in a hot fire that checked their impetuous advance instantly, and before they could rally for another charge, both had bolted into the gloomy hole, and the stone was deftly rolled into place. chapter xxi. cut off from the outer world. the lamp was lit instantly, and without a moment's delay guy led the party at full speed down the corridor until the descent was reached. "now hurry down, all of you," he cried. "you have a flask of powder about you, canaris. give it to me." "what are you going to do, chutney?" asked melton in alarm. "put an end to all pursuit," was the stern reply; and, seizing the flask, he placed it on the ground, and pouring a little powder on a strip of linen torn from the lining of his blouse, he deftly rolled a fuse and inserted one end in the mouth of the flask. his intentions were apparent. the roof and walls of the passage were of loose earth and stone. a blast would bring them down in an avalanche. canaris attempted to expostulate, but guy drove them all down the slope and applied a match to the fuse. it was high time, for up the passage shone the gleam of torches. the enemy had effected an entrance. guy joined his companions on the shore of the river, and almost instantly a terrific explosion took place. it seemed to rend the earth. a tremendous crash and rumbling noise followed, and then all was quiet. the concussion put out the lamp, but as soon as it was lighted again guy ran up to see the result of his attempt. no trace of the passageway existed. in its place was a grim wall of earth. the full significance of what he had done now flashed into guy's mind and he gazed blankly into the faces of his comrades. "we are buried alive," said melton bitterly. "we are as dead to the world as though we were in our coffins." "we have simply burned our ships behind us, that is all," replied chutney. "now for the river and freedom." they went back and sat down beside the swiftly-flowing water. "bless me if i know whether i am on my head or my feet," said sir arthur. "what on earth does this mean?" "it means that these brave fellows have saved us from a fate worse than death," cried the colonel; "that is all i care to know at present." "i will explain all," said guy. he straightway related everything that had happened from the time they were separated on the way to harar to the discovery of the underground river and the daring plan for the rescue of the prisoners. the colonel could scarcely repress his astonishment as he listened to the wonderful story, and at its conclusion he embraced his rescuer warmly. "we owe you our lives," he said fervently. "never was a braver deed attempted, never was a rescue more marvelously carried out. ah, i can never repay the debt. a grateful country will reward you, captain chutney. england shall know of your heroism." "yes, you are right, colonel," put in sir arthur, with a touch of his old pomposity; "the government shall know how its representative was delivered from the hands of these impious fiends. but bless me, i don't see that we are so much better off, after all. how are we going to get out of this beastly hole?" "and what has become of momba, and captain waller, and the hindoos?" exclaimed forbes, who had suddenly recollected the missing members of the party. "lost--all lost," replied the colonel sadly. "they were sold to a distant tribe in the interior two days after we arrived at the village. you see our condition. they have made us work from sunrise to sunset. we fell ill, and, being of use no longer, they deliberately tried to starve us to death. it was horrible, horrible!" "it was a diabolical outrage," interrupted sir arthur. "the whole civilized world will shudder when it knows that the governor of zaila was fed on tainted meat and spoiled rice, and very little of that, too. if england fails to resent this outrage, i'll cast off my allegiance to the crown, sir, and become a citizen of some other country. i will, by jove!" sir arthur might have gone on indefinitely with the tale of his grievances, but guy cut him short by calling general attention to their present grave situation. the supply of provisions was at once overhauled, and the inspection proved very satisfactory. six large bags had been loaded on the camels. two of these held jerked beef, probably buffalo or deer meat, one contained rice, another a peculiar kind of hard cakes made from native corn, and the two remaining were filled to the top with dates and figs. "we are assured of food for some time to come," said guy; "that is one consolation. i wish i could feel as certain of light. we have two lamps, and to supply these two big flasks of palm oil, not nearly enough, however, to last us on a long journey. when that is gone, i don't know what we shall do." "when we stop for rest we shall have to do without light," suggested melton. "if we find any places to stop," he added. "it's beastly chilly in here," observed sir arthur, with a shiver. "two days in a hole like this will give us all rheumatism." "ah," said melton, "but i have provided for that. see, here are the trappings from the camels which i brought in while waiting for you." and he held up one by one half a dozen richly embroidered rugs and skins, which had belonged to the leaders of the abyssinians. this pleasing discovery put them all in better spirits, and it was presently supplemented by another, which went far to remove the most formidable obstacle to their journey, for while the canoes were being examined guy found in a far corner of the cavern a great pile of torches, made from some highly resinous wood. these had evidently belonged to the natives who formerly dwelt here, and were used by them instead of lamps on their journeys to the coast. they were fifty or sixty in number. "this is a fortunate discovery," said guy. "with these and the lamps we may have sufficient light to last out our trip." "yes; that removes the last obstacle," rejoined forbes; "and now i propose that we take some refreshment. we have eaten nothing for nearly two days." this was true. the excitement had almost banished hunger from their thoughts, but melton's words roused their dormant appetites, and, sitting down beside the canoes, they made a hearty meal and washed it down with water from the river, which was quite fresh and cold. "well," said guy, when they had all finished and the provisions were tied up and put aside, "it will do us no good to remain here any longer. the river, as you all know, is our only salvation, and the sooner we start on our cruise the better. the natives who once dwelt here are reported to have made journeys down this stream in boats. is it not so, canaris?" "yes," replied the greek. "i have heard from the arabs at harar that it was their annual custom to go down to the coast in large rafts or boats with trading goods, and then return by land." "but where does this underground river empty?" asked the colonel. "does anyone know?" "it is supposed to reach the juba," replied guy, "but whether near the mouth of that river or not i cannot say." "ah! but that is a very important thing," said the colonel. "i possess some acquaintance with the geography of this part of africa. are you aware that the river juba is nearly eight hundred miles in length? its source, which as yet remains undiscovered, lies only a hundred miles or more to our west, and it flows to the southeast. this stream before us appears to head in a southwesterly direction as near as i can judge. it is possible then that it joins the river juba at a distance less than two hundred miles from here. in that event our journey does not appear so formidable." "pardon me, sir," said canaris quickly, "but from what i have been able to learn this river reaches the juba at a point, i have heard stated, midway between bardera and the coast." "bardera!" cried the colonel sharply. "why, bardera is only two hundred miles from the sea. according to that, we have a journey before us of nearly eight hundred miles--a journey underground and on unknown waters. who can tell what dangers lie before us?" "we will never get out alive," groaned sir arthur. "never in the world, carrington. what a blawsted idiot i was to let the government send me to that beastly hole!" "and is it impossible to escape by land?" asked the colonel, unheeding this interruption. "you forget that we have destroyed our only communication with the outer world," ventured forbes. "the river is our sole hope." "yes, i had forgotten it, it is true," replied the colonel. "and were the communication now open," exclaimed guy, "escape would still be hopeless. this river is navigable, and the existence of those canoes proves what i say. i have been in tight places like this before, and if you will trust to my guidance i will do my best to bring you through in safety. if we fail, it shall be through no fault of mine." chapter xxii. an unwelcome visitor. guy's stirring speech was just what was needed to rouse the flagging spirits of the party, for the colonel's graphic description of the contemplated journey had produced a very depressing effect. preparations for the start were begun at once. the two canoes were first tested and found to be absolutely seaworthy. then the provisions, the torches, the lamps, the oil flasks, and the rugs were divided into two parts and stowed away. it was decided that guy should be accompanied by forbes and sir arthur in the first boat, and that canaris and the colonel should follow in the second. for economy one torch was to be used for illuminating their way, and this sir arthur was to hold in the rear of the canoe. eight paddles had been found in the cavern, thus providing an extra supply in case of possible loss. it was difficult to believe that the sun was shining brightly outside. no ray of light pierced the blackness of the cavern, and the dead silence was unbroken by the first sound, though at that very moment the gallas and the abyssinians were probably waging a bloody battle almost overhead. henceforth day and night were one, all trace of time would be lost, and whether any of that imprisoned band would ever see the light of day again or breathe the free, open air, the future alone could tell. it was a solemn and impressive moment, and guy's voice had a touch of huskiness in it as he ordered the canoes to be carried to the water. a last survey of the cavern was made to see that nothing was forgotten, and then all took their places in silence, the canoes swung slowly out from shore, and, caught by the current, shot off into the gloom on the first stage of the most awful journey ever made by englishmen. guy sat slightly in front of the stern, keeping the canoe straight with an occasional touch of the paddle, for the velocity of the current made labor unnecessary, and close behind him was sir arthur, holding the flaring torch that lit up the water for a short distance ahead and served to guide the second canoe, which was only a few yards behind. "if this current continues all the way," observed forbes, "eight hundred miles will be nothing at all." "yes, if no bad rapids are encountered," replied guy. "there are certainly none very near, or we could hear them plainly." "i don't think we need fear that very much," called out the colonel from the rear canoe. "the altitude of this part of africa is not so high above the sea. the valley overhead is a pretty deep one, and this river is some distance beneath. moreover, those natives would hardly have made an annual cruise down the river if the channel were very dangerous." "it was their custom to start at the close of the rainy season," said the greek, "when the river was high and swollen." "don't mention rapids, i beg of you," cried sir arthur. "it makes me nervous. i can't stand it at all." for an hour or more they traveled on in almost unbroken silence. on either side the shore was invisible, and overhead the glare of the torch revealed only black, empty space. the same intense silence prevailed, not even the faintest murmur of the river being audible. this peaceful monotony, however, was rudely shattered. a low humming sound was heard in the distance, which rapidly increased in volume, and left no room to doubt that a course of rapids was below. at guy's suggestion forbes relieved sir arthur of the torch, and scarcely had this change been effected when the current carried them into a swirling mass of spray. both canoes grated and bumped against rocks, and then, before the frightened occupants could realize that it was over, the sullen roar was fading away in the distance, and the smooth current was bearing them rapidly ahead. this little episode considerably relieved their minds. if no more dangerous water than that lay before them, there was little cause for apprehension. a skilled eye and a strong hand would overcome the difficulty. presently, for the first time, rocky walls appeared, now on one side, now on the other, but they fell sheer to the water, and gave no opportunity for landing. the atmosphere of the cavern was pure and fresh, a fact not readily accounted for, since no glimmer of daylight was anywhere visible. guy began to grow sleepy, a sensation which was shared by his companions, for it was many hours since they had had any rest. it was impossible to tell how long or how far they had traveled. all passage of time was lost, and the periods for eating and sleeping must be regulated by their own feelings. instinct goes wrong in such cases; yet there was little doubt that the night had come. a sharp lookout was kept on the shores, but, as the current swept them past the same monotonous ledges without a break, it began to look as though they would be compelled to take turns at sleeping in the bottom of the canoes. they were paddling close along the right shore when a sudden cry from canaris, who was almost abreast of the other boat, and farther out in the current, attracted general attention, and peering out on the river they saw a dim object some yards away. the current bore them past it, but by dint of hard paddling the canoes were headed diagonally up stream, and a few moments later a landing was made on the lower end of a small spit of white sand, ten or fifteen yards in diameter. it sloped gently to the water's edge, and in the center was a cluster of smooth, water-worn stones. it was a perfect haven of refuge to the weary and exhausted voyagers, and with thankful hearts they hauled the canoes upon the strip of beach and spread out the rugs in readiness for a few hours' sleep. they ate sparingly of crackers and dates, for guy had assumed charge of the commissary department and dispensed supplies with no liberal hand, the wisdom of which was readily acknowledged by all. the torch had been stuck end up in the sand, and its cheerful glow threw a radiance over all the little island and caused the silvery white sand to sparkle brilliantly. they stretched themselves out on the rugs near the center of the island, and as soon as they were arranged comfortably guy rigorously extinguished the torch and hunted his place in the darkness. no thought of fear entered their mind. on all sides was the deep and rapid river. whence could an enemy come? in five minutes not a man was awake. even sir arthur was snoring profoundly, dreaming perhaps of the snug quarters in the residence at zaila, from which he had been so rudely ousted a few short weeks before. guy was dreaming, too, but far different were the visions that coursed through his brain. for the twentieth time he was living over again his awful experiences of the previous year. once more he was a prisoner in the rajah's fortress, and nana sahib's cannons were awaiting their victim on the massive stone platform. now he was being led out to die in the midst of his companions, the fiendish faces all about him, the hindoos stood by the touch-holes with lighted torches. now they were binding him, the gaping muzzle was pressing his back---then he woke and sat up, trembling from head to foot, the dank perspiration standing in beads on his forehead. thank god it was only a dream. the rajah's fortress was thousands of miles away. suddenly a faint sound reached his ear, so indistinct that he could hardly be sure he heard anything at all. he listened a moment, but it was not repeated. "some of the fellows stirring in their sleep," he muttered, and giving the matter no further thought, he lay down again. but as soon as his head touched the sand the sound was repeated, and this time it was more definable--a steady, rustling noise, with an occasional low splash that seemed to come from the water. it was caused by none of his companions, for they all lay on his left, while the alarming noise seemed to come from the right. guy was a brave man, but in his nervous condition, resulting from the recent dream, this new alarm was too much, and he felt a cold chill run down his spine. giving forbes, who was next him, a gentle shake, he drew himself to his feet, and taking a match from his pocket, rubbed it with a trembling hand across the front of his trousers. it struck fire instantly, and as the sudden flare lit up the whole extent of the island the match dropped from guy's nerveless fingers and he started back with a cry of horror that echoed horribly through the gloomy recesses of the cavern. chapter xxiii. a wonderful escape. guy had presence of mind enough to strike a second match and ignite the torch, which was fortunately within reach of his hand, and as his companions, roused from their sleep by his sharp cry of alarm, sprang excitedly to their feet, the flaming glare revealed to their astonished gaze a monstrous serpent coiled half on land, half in the water, at the edge of the island. the flat, ugly head, with its wicked eyes, was darting angrily to and fro, and the body was as thick as a man's leg above the knee. "great cã¦sar, it's a sea-serpent!" cried forbes, making a dash for his rifle, while sir arthur, with a dismal groan, dropped down on his knees and had to be dragged forcibly away by the colonel. the glare of the torch seemed to anger the monster, for it advanced a yard or more up the island, and spattered the water furiously with its great tail. a general rush was made for the canoes, and it would have been no difficult matter to have slipped quickly away and left the hideous monster in undisputed possession of the island. unluckily forbes was bent on resistance. he seized his rifle, made sure that it was ready for use, and started forward just as guy hurried to his assistance. "come away, melton," he cried; "it will only make things worse if you wound it." "but i don't intend to wound it," replied melton. "i'm going to put a ball through that ugly head. stand back, chutney; stand back." as he spoke he advanced recklessly until the muzzle of his rifle was within two feet of the serpent's head, and, taking a quick aim, pulled the trigger. the stunning report shook the cavern; then, as forbes turned to flee, the enraged monster, with blood streaming from a hole in his neck, threw his slimy coils forward in convulsions of agony, and, before the eyes of his horrified companions, melton was pinned to the ground. he struggled to his knees, fighting desperately to loosen the tightening coils, and uttering heartrending appeals for help. then, with a mighty hiss, the serpent flapped wildly toward the water, dragging his victim with him, and with a terrific splash and a resounding slap of the great tail on the moist sand, both disappeared in the gloom. with a terrible cry guy ran to the water's edge and shouted again and again. no response came back. the black river flowed as smoothly and calmly as before. "lost! lost!" he cried hoarsely, and staggering backward he fell heavily on the sand. the colonel ran to his assistance, and at that moment a single cry came distinctly from a point below the island. "listen!" exclaimed canaris. "what is that?" "help! help!" rang mournfully through the recesses of the cavern. it was melton's voice surely, and the familiar tones reached guy's ears and brought him to his feet in an instant. "it's forbes!" he shouted wildly. "the canoe, quick," and snatching the heavy craft, he fairly threw it into the river and sprang in. canaris leaped after him, and seizing paddles they drove the canoe swiftly toward the distant sound. "we are coming, melton; we are coming," cried guy. "we'll save you yet." in their haste the lighted torch had been left behind, but fortunately the greek had matches, and in an instant another torch was lit and flaring cheerfully over the water. "this way, chutney," came a feeble voice below them. "hurry up. i'm nearly exhausted." a few rapid strokes of the paddle brought them within sight of a struggling object on the surface of the water, and as the canoe ran skilfully alongside, guy dropped his paddle, and, leaning out, seized the drowning man by the collar. with almost superhuman strength he dragged him into the canoe without assistance. "thank god!" he cried, "he's safe. speak to me, forbes. are you hurt?" but melton lay white and helpless in the bottom of the boat, too exhausted to reply. "he's all right," said canaris. "don't make him talk. take your paddle, chutney. we'll have a struggle to make the island." the greek was right. far above them shone the flickering torch, and the current was bearing them further away. "i can't paddle and hold the torch at the same time," said canaris. "we must be guided by the light on the island." and they bent to the paddles with a will, shouting from time to time to encourage the colonel and sir arthur. it was even a harder task than they had feared--to force the canoe through that fierce rush of water. and for a time it seemed as though they were losing instead of gaining. but at last the distant light grew brighter, and soon their friends could be seen standing on the edge of the island. ten minutes' more labor brought the canoe to the small eddy behind the island, and then the colonel hauled it gently upon the sand. they climbed wearily out and bore melton tenderly up the slope. his clothes were foul and slimy from the serpent's embrace, but he did not seem to be injured. a few drops of stimulant would have had a good effect, but as this was out of the question they did the next best thing under the circumstances. his wet clothes were stripped off and wrung out. then he was wrapped snugly in three or four big rugs and laid in one of the canoes, which was emptied for the purpose. this heroic treatment had a speedy effect, and the patient, much to the relief of all, recovered from his prostration and insisted on sitting up. "no, i don't think i'm hurt," he said, in response to guy's inquiries. "it was the closest shave i ever had in my life, though. you may imagine how i felt when the monster dragged me into the river. i gave myself up for lost at once. he dived straight down, and then shot through the water like a streak. one coil was still around my body, and hard as i struggled i couldn't tear loose. my ears began to sing, and i knew i would have to drown. then i felt the coil grow a little looser, and with one desperate struggle i tore away and came to the top. the first thing i saw was the light away up on the island, and i shouted for help as loud as i could. i was terribly afraid you would not hear me, and all the time i was growing weaker and weaker, and the current was dragging me farther and farther away. then i saw your torch almost beside me, and that is all i remember. i would have gone to the bottom in another minute, i know. it was horrible, chutney. it makes me faint to think of it," and melton closed his eyes with a little shudder. there were tears in the eyes of all as they listened to the marvelous story of his escape, and a sterner realization came to them of the unknown and unseen dangers that encompassed them. further sleep was out of the question, and yet they could not well leave the island until melton's clothes were partially dry. "suppose we try some fishing," suggested guy. "i have lines, and we can bait the hooks with bits of dried meat." "that would be an agreeable change in our bill of fare," said the colonel. "i second the motion." "gentlemen, i beg of you, don't harass my feelings by talking of fish," protested sir arthur, who was gradually recovering from his severe fright. "it makes me think of white-bait dinners at greenwich. i dined there two days before i sailed for africa." "and you will dine there again, many a time," replied the colonel. "only keep up your spirits, ashby." "i hope so, i'm sure," groaned sir arthur, with a dismal shake of the head that belied his words. meanwhile guy had been preparing the lines, and handing one to the greek, they cast them in the eddy below the island. in less than five minutes guy landed a trumpet, a fish of a deep purple color, a foot in length. canaris hauled one out at the same time, and within an hour they had caught more than a dozen, all of the same species and of about the same length. "we'll take them along with us," said guy. "we may find driftwood enough to build a fire and cook them." "and if we don't find any," cried canaris, "we can cook them by holding them in the flame of the torch." chapter xxiv. sir arthur wakes at the right time. at this point forbes positively insisted on getting up, and, in spite of the slight dampness that still lingered about his clothes, he pulled them on and announced himself ready to start. all were glad to leave the spot which was connected with such a horrible event, and soon the island was far in the rear. the second stage of the journey was monotonous and uneventful. a few slight rapids were encountered, but for the most part the river was swift and smooth. the character of the shores now began to change, and instead of the sharp ledges falling sheer to the water, sandy beaches skirted the edge, and from the canoes they could make out gloomy holes and passages that pierced the sides of the cavern. they were strongly tempted at times to stop and explore these unknown mysteries, but the reflection that every moment thus wasted would prolong their stay on this underground stream always checked the impulse. a flat, rocky ledge served for their next resting-place. it extended back ten yards to a steep wall of rock, and here, in a hollow cavity, canaris found a mass of driftwood that was dry enough to burn. the fish were cooked rudely over a fire, but without salt they were unpalatable and no one cared to eat them. the luxury of a camp fire was enjoyed while they slept, and, although no watch was kept, the night--if night it really was--passed without alarm. colonel carrington had managed to retain during his captivity a small note-book and pencil. in this he kept a record of the journey, jotting down each night the incidents of the day's cruise, and a page from this diary will convey to the reader a clear idea of the uneventful manner in which the first week passed away--a week in long-to-be-remembered contrast to the dreadful period that followed. _third stage._--traveled all day on smooth water. rocky shores. camped on an island. could find no wood and slept in the dark. _fourth stage._--today we passed rocky islands in great profusion. once far overhead we saw a single gleam of light shining in from a crevice. so far our calculation is correct. day is day, and night is night. _fifth stage._--nothing important. ran a few rapids and camped on the right shore on a sandy beach. _sixth stage._--all goes well. we are making many miles a day. the current continues strong. camped on flat rock in midstream. _seventh stage._--current still good. river very wide and obstructed with rocks. narrowly missed an upset several times. _eighth stage._--traveled rapidly. camped on a big spit of sand on right shore. vast cavern behind us. too sleepy to explore it. here the peaceful monotony of the colonel's record ended. on this sloping, sandy beach began the first of that string of adventures which to their last moment will send a shudder through those who participated in them. as the colonel stated, they were so weary from the long day's journey that no investigation was made of the vast cavern that lay behind them. guy advanced a few yards with his blazing torch. "it probably terminates with a rocky wall," he said carelessly: "it's no use looking into it tonight." sir arthur suggested that it would be well to make sure that no danger lurked in its darkness, but guy handed him the torch and bade him go satisfy himself. he very promptly declined the honor. a meager supper was eaten, for already the stock of food showed a perceptible diminution, and by common consent guy began from that time to serve out short rations. a quantity of driftwood had been brought in the canoes from a previous camping-place, and with this a small fire was built. in its cheerful flickering glow they fell asleep, and an hour later a faint gleam from the charred embers was all that relieved the darkness of the cavern. when sir arthur ashby turned uneasily on his rugs some time afterward, even this feeble light was gone. the ex-governor was consumed with a burning thirst. he had an undeniable craving for champagne and iced claret, but in the unavoidable absence of these drinks water would have to do. as he sat up, a faint noise reached his ears from the direction of the canoes, and supposing it to be canaris, who had performed similar favors for him before, he called out loudly: "my good fellow, fetch me a drink, will you? i'm deucedly dry." the noise instantly ceased and was not repeated, though sir arthur waited breathlessly for a full minute. once he fancied he heard a slight rippling of water, but that, too, ceased at once. then sir arthur uttered a loud shout, which speedily wakened his companions. "what's wrong?" cried the colonel anxiously. "did some one call? i surely heard a noise." "i want a drink, that's all," said sir arthur. "i heard someone down at the canoes and supposed it was canaris. was it you, carrington?" "no, certainly not," exclaimed the colonel, now thoroughly awake. "here, chutney, forbes, pass me a match, quick. i have none about me." they were all on their feet instantly, and guy lost no time in lighting the torch which he kept always by his side. holding it over his head he led the way to the shore, and the first brief glance showed only too plainly what was the matter. "_one canoe is missing!_" he cried despairingly. "what, you don't mean it!" exclaimed forbes. "how can that be possible?" "it's gone," said guy blankly. "no doubt of it. here is the mark of the keel leading down to the water. that's not the worst of it, though. half our provisions are gone with it, and one lamp and an oil-flask as well." "by jove, chutney, it's that savage who has done this," cried melton. "it can be accounted for in no other way. we forgot all about the scoundrel's presence in the cavern." "but how could he have lived all this time without food?" "i don't know," answered melton. "he must have managed it in some way, though. these gallas are tough, wiry fellows and can stand a good deal of hardship." the circumstances all seemed to confirm melton's supposition. unfortunately the fact that this galla warrior was also making the cruise of the river had been overlooked, and now, as a result of this negligence they had lost a canoe and half of their supplies. "we have one thing to be thankful for," said guy. "if sir arthur had not wakened when he did we would undoubtedly have lost all. his shout scared the rascal, and he did not wait to make off with the other canoe." "yes, here is the mark of a third boat," announced the colonel, who had been making an investigation on his own account, "and footprints are visible on the sand. the scoundrel must have been here when we landed." "i wanted you to make a search," said sir arthur, "but my advice was disregarded. you see the result." "prepare to start at once," interrupted guy sharply. "we must pursue the thief and recover our canoe." in less than five minutes they embarked and pushed away from the shore. "put out the torch," said guy. "if the rascal sees the light he can get out of our way and we will pass him unperceived." "but how will we capture him in the dark?" asked melton. "we must depend on our hearing," was the reply. "we will push ahead quietly and listen at intervals for the stroke of his paddle." under these circumstances the recovery of the canoe was very doubtful, but there was plainly no other course, so they proceeded to carry out guy's plan as carefully as possible. five paddles were all that remained, one for each of them, and with quick, noiseless strokes they moved rapidly down the river, keeping the canoe headed with the current as far as possible, and pausing at times to listen for any trace of the thief. thus they journeyed for an hour or more, but no sound of any kind reached their ears, and it began to look very much as though the galla had been passed unseen in the darkness. "he could hardly have kept ahead of us for such a distance," said forbes. "i'm afraid we have missed him, chutney." guy made no reply. the canoe at that instant grated harshly on some obstacle, and throwing out his arms, melton discovered that the current had carried them against one of the steep, rocky shores. he was about to shove the canoe forcibly away with his paddle when guy whispered sharply: "hold tight to the rock. i hear something above us." chapter xxv. the journey on the lake. in the deep silence all heard distinctly the low, steady dip of a paddle. "be ready with a match," whispered guy. "when the canoe comes opposite, light the torch and i will cover the fellow with my rifle." the sound grew louder and plainer, and melton's finger was already trembling on the match when a terrific splash echoed over the water, followed instantly by a most awful and heartrending wail of agony, that caused every one to shudder from head to foot. perfect silence ensued, and the dip of the paddle was no longer heard. with nervous haste forbes lit the torch, and the sudden light revealed an empty canoe floating bottom up a few yards out in the stream. they paddled quickly alongside, and leaning over guy turned the drifting boat right side up. it was empty, of course. the contents had gone to the bottom, and near the center the frail sides, seen plainly in the torchlight, were actually crushed inward like a shattered egg-shell. where was the occupant of a moment before? what tremendous force had wrought this havoc? the current carried them on and on, but no one spoke; no one dared utter the thoughts that were in his mind. at last guy said in faltering tones, "nothing but a serpent could have inflicted that injury to the canoe." "that was the meaning of the splash," replied melton. "the huge coils must have been thrown around it. the poor fellow had only time for one cry when he was dragged out." "then the serpent must have been following us down the river," cried the colonel. "i supposed he was dead after that bullet lodged in his neck." "_that_ serpent is dead," said forbes solemnly, "or i should never have escaped from his coils. this is another serpent. the river must be the abode of many like them." this alarming statement was unfortunately only too likely to be true. sir arthur was terribly distressed, and prophesied a speedy reappearance of the monster and a fate similar to that of the poor savage in store for them all. his anxiety was shared by his companions, though not expressed as openly, and all possible haste was made to get away from the horrible spot. a brief search was carried on in hopes of finding the lost provision bags, but, with the exception of a single floating paddle, nothing was picked up. the bags must have sunk with the lamp and oil-flask. nothing was seen of the other canoe--the one originally taken by the savage--and they came to the conclusion that it had been purposely abandoned farther up the river. the balance of that day they traveled with a dread sense of impending danger. the terrible scene so recently witnessed had left an ineffaceable impression and by tacit consent they paddled in silence, afraid of the sound of their own voices. the river had suddenly become narrow, and ran with dizzy speed between two rocky walls that reflected on both sides the glow of the torch which sir arthur carried in the stern. half a dozen times they dashed through brawling rapids, but no mishap occurred, and, as their increasing drowsiness warned them that night was close at hand, they succeeded in finding a landing-place on the left shore which offered some protection until morning. a small quantity of wood still remained, and with this a fire was kept burning all night, while they took turns at guarding the camp, for after the recent events they no longer dared to sleep unprotected and in utter darkness. the scant amount of food now remaining was a source of great uneasiness, but chutney infused fresh hope into the party by the confident prediction that if the present daily rate of speed were maintained the supply would last until the end of the journey. already the pure air of the cavern had done wonders for sir arthur and the colonel, and they had nearly recovered their usual health and strength. the one canoe held them all very comfortably, and they seemed to make better progress than when they had been divided into separate parties. that night nothing occurred to cause any alarm, and they resumed the cruise in fairly good spirits. the river still continued narrow and the current swift. no dangerous water was encountered, and everything was going on satisfactorily when guy suddenly shouted with all his might, "back water! quick! quick!" and looking ahead they saw a steep rocky promontory, against which the current split and swung off into two channels, one to the right, the other to the left. in spite of their utmost efforts they continued to float down inch by inch. which was the proper channel? it was a puzzling problem on which perhaps hung life and death. there was no time for consideration, and under the circumstances guy adopted the only possible course. "head the canoe straight for the center of the rock and let her drift," he cried. "the current shall decide for us." this was instantly done and they drifted with perfect accuracy straight for the splitting point in the stream. for a moment it looked as though they would be flung against the rocks and upset, but as the canoe reached the turning-point it trembled an instant in the balance and then darted headlong into the channel to the right. "a good omen," cried the colonel. "the river juba lies on our right. this must be the proper channel." it was a very narrow channel, at all events, and a very swift one, too, for the rocky walls on either side were almost close enough to touch with the paddles, and they were moving at a dizzy rate of speed. "there are rapids below us," said forbes. "i can hear them dimly." melton's hearing was unusually acute, for as yet the rest could hear nothing, but in a few seconds the distant roar was audible to all, and it grew ominously louder with every second. they grasped the sides of the canoe in anxious suspense--for it was useless to paddle--and the angry waters were almost in sight, when sir arthur dropped his torch, and instantly they were plunged in total darkness. no time remained to strike a fresh light. the sullen crash of the waters drowned the sound of their voices, and the canoe blindly took its own course and they felt the chill spray spattering their faces. "bump, bump, bump," went the quivering boat, grinding and crashing on loose rocks, and then with one terrific lurch, that sent them sprawling on their knees, the violent tossing subsided and the choppy waves smacked the bottom of the canoe. with some difficulty guy lit a fresh torch, and its light revealed a strange condition of things. no shore was visible on either side, and overhead was empty space instead of the low lying roof that always met their gaze. "we are no longer moving," cried the colonel in astonishment. "impossible!" exclaimed guy, but on putting his hand in the water all doubt was instantly removed. the canoe was stationary. they paddled on to the right, to the left, in every direction, but the dark water lay calm and sluggish on all sides. "we are on a lake," said guy. "there is no doubt of it; a vast underground lake." "there must be an outlet on the other side, though," replied melton. "all we need do is to paddle across and find it." "but which is the proper side?" said canaris. "are we headed straight now?" "by jove, i don't believe we are," replied guy. "i'm afraid we are completely mixed up. we will paddle until we reach the shore, and then follow it till we come to the outlet." "yes, that will do very well," said the colonel. "the lake cannot be so very large. i wish we had time to complete a survey of it. i should like to make a report to the royal geographical society." "i wish the honorable members of the r. g. s. could change places with us," said sir arthur, with a groan. "i have no doubt some of those lunatics would enjoy this beastly hole. there is no accounting for taste, carrington." the colonel made no reply. he was keeping stroke with chutney's paddle, sharing with him the outlook ahead. the minutes passed on, but still no signs of any shore. "it's a pretty fair-sized lake after all," said guy. "and we are the first white men to navigate its waters," remarked the colonel solemnly. "this is a wonderful discovery. our fame as great explorers will be assured if we ever get back to england." "land ahead!" shouted guy suddenly, and snatching the torch from sir arthur, he stood erect as the canoe shot gently toward a dim object that rose from the gloom twenty yards distant. amid breathless silence the keel nicked the sandy beach and guy sprang out. one brief second he held the flaming torch aloft. then he turned and tottered with trembling limbs towards the canoe. he tried to speak, but no words came, and his face was pallid and horror-stricken. chapter xxvi. the isle of skeletons. believing that some terrible danger threatened, forbes was in readiness to push the canoe back into the lake, but guy stopped him with a wave of the hand. "i'll be all right in a moment. my nerves went back on me; that's all." he glanced toward the shore with a shudder, and then filled the palm of his hand with water and drank it. "come on," he said bravely; "don't be alarmed. it's nothing that can harm us." his companions followed him timidly up the sandy slope. the torch threw a bright light on the scene, and every one of them shuddered as guy stopped and pointed before him. on a flat, rocky plateau, three or four feet above the level of the lake, lay a gleaming mass of bones, all dried and whitened by age. "human skeletons, by gracious!" burst from the colonel, and it was easy to see that he spoke the truth. human skeletons they were, but instead of being joined together, skulls, arms, and legs lay scattered about in awful confusion. "this is horrible," said forbes. "who were these unfortunates, and what could have caused such mutilation?" guy advanced to the center of the plateau, flashing the torch around him, and turning to his companions, he cried: "this is an island; there is water all around it." "look here," exclaimed canaris eagerly; "here lies a raft of logs, half buried in the sand." this new discovery promised some light on the mystery, and they crowded hastily around the greek, who was bending over the rude structure. it lay half way up the beach, and over the lower extremities of the logs a thick layer of sand had been washed. close by were half a dozen coarse sacks, which proved on inspection to contain skins of leopards and tigers, bright colored feathers, coffee, and aromatic gums. all were in fairly good condition. "here is something else," cried forbes. "arms, by jove! spears and axes, torches and paddles. well, by gracious, what does this mean?" an inkling of the truth flashed upon them simultaneously, and they stared at each other in frightened silence. "this was the last load of natives to go down the river," said canaris quietly. "here is their raft, their trading goods. yonder lie their bones. their journey ended here." "and why did it end here?" demanded the colonel. "yes, why?" echoed chutney, and then no one spoke for a full minute. "what was to prevent them from continuing on their way?" resumed the colonel finally. "they had a raft and paddles; the water was all around them. what caused their death?" "starvation," suggested the greek. "it was not starvation that killed them," exclaimed guy, who had turned back to the center of the island. "here is a bag of dates and dried meat all shriveled and moldy. they met their death in some horribly sudden fashion, that is certain. how do you account for their skeletons being torn apart and the bones flung together? could starvation do that?" "it was serpents," said the greek; and that brief sentence made their blood run cold. "yes," continued canaris, observing the doubt in their faces; "they must have been surprised in the night and crushed to death. that alone can account for their broken bones. but, remember, all this was thirty years ago or more." "yes, you are right, canaris," said chutney. "i believe, upon my word, what you say is true. the monstrous serpents of the cavern devoured them." sir arthur beat a rapid retreat to the canoe, and the rest were not slow in following his example. "let us get away from this horrible spot as quickly as possible," said the colonel; "and, besides, we are losing precious time on this lake. we must seek the outlet at once and resume the journey." they paddled gladly away from the isle of skeletons, as the colonel insisted on naming it, and steered as straight a course as possible. under the pressure of four paddles the canoe maintained a rapid speed, but in spite of this it was fully an hour, and probably much more, before they found the shore of the lake. they rested a little while beside the perpendicular wall of rock, uncertain which way to turn. "it won't make much difference," said guy; "either course must bring us to the outlet. suppose we try the right." this proposition met with favor, and off they started once more, taking care to keep the shore constantly in sight, lest they should lose their bearings again. in less than half an hour the sound of running water was heard in the distance, and they paddled faster than ever in their intense longing to escape from the lake. louder and louder grew the roar of the water, until they seemed to be almost upon it, and just when they were preparing for a dash into the rapids chutney rose in the canoe with a cry of surprise, and the torchlight showed plainly a fierce body of water running, not out of, but into the lake. they had come back to the starting point. it was here they had entered the lake, and now all must be done over again. "back water," cried the colonel. "don't get into the current. it may sweep us out and we shall lose our bearings. turn the canoe and we will go back the way we came." there was no help for it. it only remained to atone for the lost time by paddling as rapidly as possible. with difficulty the canoe was snatched from the influx of the current and headed this time to the left. "it will be a lengthy paddle," said guy. "the lake is by no means a small one." "i'm hungry," exclaimed sir arthur. "isn't it about time for lunch?" "your suggestion is eminently proper, sir arthur," declared the colonel. "on a full stomach we shall travel faster, chauncey. do you concur with our views?" guy evidently did, for a supply of dates and crackers was forthwith produced, and while they were eating the canoe was permitted to remain stationary. they started away in somewhat better spirits, chutney in the bow keeping a sharp watch for danger ahead, while sir arthur held his torch from the stern, lighting the water for some yards around. the dreary monotony of the journey was most trying. the shore presented an unbroken perpendicular wall of stone falling sheer to the water, damp and slimy with drippings, while overhead was empty space, a dome of vast height, to judge from the echo of their voices. they paddled on and on, pausing occasionally to rest their weary arms, then dashing away with more vigor than ever. not for an instant did they lose sight of the shore. it was their only guide. at last sir arthur's arm dropped feebly, and it was seen that he was half asleep. canaris took the torch from his hand, and sinking into the bottom of the canoe, the ex-governor fell instantly into a deep slumber. "i'm actually getting drowsy myself," confessed the colonel. "it must be night. surely we ought to be halfway round the lake by this time." guy admitted that he, too, was beginning to grow sleepy, and as forbes and canaris alone professed to be as fresh as ever, it was decided that they should navigate the canoe for a time and allow the others an opportunity to rest. chutney and the colonel stretched themselves on the rugs and melton paddled slowly forward, while canaris held the torch from the stern. hours passed, and still they continued to follow the rocky shore amid silence, broken only by the swish of the paddle, for neither forbes nor canaris cared to converse. wrapped in their own gloomy reflections they crouched in the stern, keeping silent vigil over their sleeping companions. an intense desire for sleep now laid hold on melton, and with great reluctance he woke guy and the colonel. it required a dash of cold water to bring them to their senses. "are we still on this horrible lake?" exclaimed chutney. "how long have we been asleep?" "several hours at least," replied melton. "several hours? whew! what a lake this is! we must surely be near the outlet now. but you are sleepy and worn out, melton, and so is canaris. look, he can hardly keep his eyes open. go lie down, both of you. the colonel and i will see to the canoe, and you will wake up twenty miles down the river." melton handed over his paddle to guy, and the colonel relieved the greek of the torch. canaris was asleep almost instantly, and melton was just arranging the rugs to make himself a comfortable spot, when chutney cried gladly, "i can hear water running. i'm sure of it. do you hear it, too, colonel?" "yes," said the colonel, after a pause. "i do hear something, that's a fact. we are approaching the outlet of the lake, no doubt of it." melton's drowsiness vanished, and he sprang up. "it would be advisable to waken canaris and sir arthur," suggested the colonel. "no one ought to sleep at a time like this. all hands may be needed." a slight touch woke the greek, but it required a severe shaking to rouse sir arthur. "waiter, a deviled kidney and a pint of pommery sec," he cried drowsily, as chutney pulled him to a sitting position. and then opening his eyes he groaned dismally, "bless me, i thought i was dining at gatti's. why didn't you let me sleep?" chapter xxvii. all hope vanishes. "we are approaching the outlet of the lake, sir arthur," said guy. "it is better that all should be awake in case we encounter bad water." "yes, yes; very true. you want me to hold the torch, i suppose. gad! what a dream i had! i was dining with lord balsover. i'd give my title and fortune to be back in london this minute." "hold your torch straight," said the colonel dryly, and then under the regular strokes of four paddles the canoe moved swiftly toward the distant sound of running water. every instant it grew louder and more distinct, and soon their voices were almost drowned in the roar. it was a period of terrible anxiety. that it was the outlet of the lake they were approaching no one for an instant doubted. their chief concern was for a safe passage into the river beyond, for the angry splash of the water told plainly its turbulent and dangerous nature. "keep a little off from the shore," cried guy. "it won't do to make too sharp a curve or we shall upset. we must strike the current fairly in the center and keep the canoe straight as an arrow. whatever happens, don't drop the torch," he added warningly. close as they now were to the outlet, no signs of any current were yet visible. the colonel called attention to this strange fact, but guy explained it by remarking that the current probably passed directly through the center of the lake and that dead water continued to the very edge. "i can see a white gleam ahead," he cried suddenly; "now paddle off from shore a little more and head the canoe as i tell you." his orders were obeyed in silence. straight out from the shore the canoe shot deftly. a couple of quick strokes forward and backward and its bow faced the angry waters that raged and foamed thirty yards distant. the radius of the torch cast a faint gleam on the very edge of the glistening spray. it seemed to beckon them onward. "now give way," cried guy. four paddles dipped and rose as one, the shining drops rolled from their blades like so many diamonds in the torch-glare, and then guy sprang to his feet with a loud cry. the paddles wavered in mid-air. "go ahead," he shouted fiercely. "paddle with all your strength." once more they dipped the water, the canoe moved slowly--with an effort, and as the paddles a second time paused in air, the canoe shot swiftly--not forward to the embrace of the angry waters, but back--_back at dizzy speed into the dark and dismal recesses of the lake_. even then the awful, unspeakable horror of the situation never flashed upon them, guy alone perhaps excepted. "we've blundered again," cried the colonel in hollow tones. "we have returned to the starting point. in some manner we have missed the outlet, and now all must be done over again." "could the canoe have been turned completely about during our journey?" exclaimed forbes. "impossible," said the colonel. "i can prove it instantly. when we started away from the spot where the river enters on our trip around the lake, the shore was on our right. when we arrived here just now it was still on our right, whereas, had we unconsciously turned the canoe about and reversed our course, the shore would be on our left. we have circumnavigated the lake and returned to our starting point, and in some way missed the outlet." "no," cried chutney in tones that chilled his hearers with horror. "we did not miss the outlet." "what do you mean?" cried the colonel. "i say we did not miss the outlet," continued guy, "because there was no outlet to miss. no exit from the lake exists. we are entombed forever and ever. none of us will ever see the light of day again. we shall die here in the bowels of the earth, and the serpents will mangle us as they mangled those poor unfortunates yonder on the island. better to know the truth now than later. it is useless to hope. i tell you we are doomed men and----" here guy's voice faltered, and sinking down into the canoe, he covered his face with his hands. sir arthur uttered a heartrending cry and fell back in a faint. he lay unnoticed. the torch dropped from the greek's nerveless hands and expired with a hiss. in darkness and silence they floated on and on until the roar of the inflowing water became fainter and fainter. then it died out entirely and all was intensely quiet. the darkness was grateful to their stricken hearts. they wanted time to realize the awful misfortune that had fallen so suddenly and heavily upon them. it was impossible to grasp the truth in a moment, especially when that truth meant utter hopelessness and a terrible death. so they drifted in silence under the great vault of the cavern, living-dead in a living tomb. long afterward--it might have been an hour and it might have been a day, for all passage of time was lost--chutney rose to a sitting posture. his brain was dizzy and reeling. the aching misery lay heavy on his heart, and yet one faint spark of hope lingered amid the black despair, the natural buoyancy of his nature that refused even to submit to the decrees of the inevitable. it was he who had first spoken the words of doom to his companions, and now he told himself he would show them the way to safety. he fumbled in his clothes for a match, and striking it deliberately, lit a fresh torch. the pale, haggard faces that looked into each other as the bright light shone over the water were ghastly and unnatural. abject misery and hopelessness were stamped on each one. the colonel and forbes faced guy calmly. canaris looked up with a shudder and then dropped his head again. sir arthur lay among the rugs as though asleep. at that instant the canoe struck some obstacle with a slight tremor and stopped. the colonel with a slight gesture pointed to the right, and there before them lay the _isle of skeletons_. a strange fatality had drifted them a second time to this awful spot. guy shuddered, but the colonel rose, and brushing past him stepped on shore. forbes followed him in silence, and then canaris staggered blindly past. after a brief hesitation guy stepped out, and dragged the canoe half way up the sand. sir arthur never moved. he was sleeping and no one dared disturb him. they sat down in a row on the sand. "it's as good a place as any to die," said forbes hoarsely. "the bones will soon have company." he paused, frightened at his own voice, and no one replied. for a while they sat in silence. guy stuck the torch in the sand and it blazed away with a merry light. somehow or other the ray of hope that had animated him a little while before had vanished, leaving only a dull despair, a reluctance to face the horror of the situation. "is there no--no chance--for us?" he ventured to say timidly. "absolutely none," replied the colonel, in a firm voice. "you told us a while ago, chutney, that our doom was sealed. i have faced the situation as calmly and clearly as possible from every conceivable aspect, and i now tell you on my own responsibility that we will never leave this cavern. the fatal error was made when we took the right-hand channel of the two, or rather when the current led us to the right. that was not our blunder, of course. we were in the hands of destiny. we are now, as you know, on the bosom of a vast lake. water of an unknown depth is beneath us. overhead is a vaulted dome of great height, probably the hollowed interior of a mountain; on all sides are massive and perpendicular walls of rock, impregnable and insurmountable. "the lake is undoubtedly ten miles or more in circumference, and, as you know well, there is no surface outlet. there is an entrance, but we can no more force our way back through that entrance than we could swim up through the falls of niagara or ride the nile cataracts in a rob roy canoe. as long as our provisions last we shall live. when we no longer have anything to eat we shall die, and the next explorer who enters this lake will find our bones mingled with those lying behind us." "and what will _he_ do?" asked guy. "perish like those before him," said the colonel. "this death trap caught many a victim and will catch many more. the light of day will never pierce this gloom." the colonel spoke as though he were demonstrating a problem in euclid or laying down plans for a campaign. "i don't call myself a philosopher," he went on, "nor am i a fatalist, but i think that most men can face the inevitable with a certain calmness that is only born of absolute despair. did you ever see a man hanged? i did once. he walked to the gallows as coolly and deliberately as though he were going to breakfast. a week before he had been defiant, blustering, terror-stricken. when he realized that he had absolutely no loophole of escape, he faced the inevitable with steady nerves. when you realize your position fully, you will be like that man. you will accept your fate." chapter xxviii. a desperate fight. the colonel rose, and going down to the canoe helped himself to a handful of crackers and some figs. he came back to his seat and began to munch them very contentedly. "the most merciful thing we could do would be to cast our provisions into the lake," he said finally. "it would cut short the agony of waiting, but i don't suppose you would look at it in that way." "no, no; don't do that," cried chutney. "who knows what may happen yet?" "ah! there you are again," said the colonel; "still clinging to hope of life; still unable to realize the truth. you are only making it so much the harder for yourself." "but there is surely some outlet to this vast body of water?" said melton. "yes," was the colonel's reply. "undoubtedly, but it must be at the bottom of the lake; it certainly is not on the surface. do you suppose those poor savages would have perished here if an outlet had existed? they, too, must have been carried by accident into the wrong channel, and no doubt they circumnavigated the lake, as we have done. realizing that they were lost, they either slew themselves to end their sufferings or they fell victims to the serpents without much resistance." while melton and the colonel were carrying on this conversation, guy rose and went down to the water, with the intention of gathering some food, for he, too, was hungry. the canoe was pulled partly on shore, and as it leaked a little the water had all collected in the stern, where sir arthur still lay in merciful sleep, thus wetting the rugs. guy noticed this, and with a view to making the sleeper more comfortable, he slid the canoe down until it lay flat in the water. it still retained a slight hold of an inch or two on the sand. a sudden cry from the greek brought him back in a hurry to the top of the island. his companions were staring out on the lake, and canaris was pointing with a trembling hand at some unseen object. "what is the matter?" cried guy. "what do you see?" "hush," said the colonel, holding up a warning finger. "something is moving out on the lake. do you hear it splashing in the water?" as yet nothing could be seen, but the noise was very plain and distinct, a steady swish! swish! not unlike the beating of a little steamer. a chilling fear grew on them as they listened to this strange, mysterious sound. "whatever it is, it is moving in a circle round the island," said guy, "and keeping an equal distance from the shore." "you are right, chutney," said the colonel, after a pause. "the sound was on our left a moment ago. now it is on our right." the greek was correct. the surface of the lake was violently agitated, though not a breath of air was stirring, and a steady flow of ripples was breaking on the sandy beach like tiny ocean waves. the unknown navigator, whatever it was, had nearly completed the circuit of the island now, and was very near the spot where they had first heard it. "it must be a serpent," cried guy. "heaven grant that it doesn't approach the island." he hurriedly picked up the torch and ran with it to the shore. the radius of light thus thrown over the water illumined a space twenty yards ahead, and revealed a long, dark object moving in graceful undulations over the surface. it was beyond doubt a huge serpent, and, as though angered by the light, the monster suddenly changed its course, and with a terrific splash headed directly for the shore. the huge head was in plain view, and the eyes flashed back fire from the reflected glare of the torch. for an instant all seemed paralyzed with horror, and no one moved. chutney was the first to recover himself. "we must kill him before he reaches the island," he cried, staggering back a pace or two. "get the guns. quick! quick! or it will be too late!" he turned to flee across the island toward the canoe, but as he gained the ridge a cry of horror broke from his lips, and as his companions hurriedly reached the spot a single glance showed them what was the matter. the canoe was no longer on the shore. the swell caused by the approach of the serpent had washed it from its slight support, and now it was twenty yards distant, and drifting farther and farther away with every second. "the guns! the guns!" shrieked chutney. "they are all in the boat. we are left at the mercy of the serpent. sir arthur! sir arthur!" he shouted with all his might, but no response came from the sleeping man, and the canoe continued to recede into the gloom. at this terrible moment it was forbes who brought a ray of hope into their despair. springing forward he snatched up an armful of the native weapons, spears, and axes, and distributed them to his companions. "we must fight the monster with these," he cried; "and while we are keeping him off, you, canaris, run to the shore and keep on shouting to sir arthur. he may wake and get here in time to save us yet." "he must be in a faint," exclaimed the colonel, "or the noise would surely have wakened him. come on, chutney, the serpent is halfway to the shore. we may keep him off with these arms." the torch was hastily placed in the sand near the water's edge, and, grasping their weapons firmly, they prepared to check the advance of the monster. fortunately the spears and axes were of hard iron and fitted with strong handles which the long storage in the cavern seemed to have toughened. meanwhile the air echoed with the greek's loud cries, but at that moment none thought of sir arthur or of the canoe, for the serpent was within half a dozen yards of the island and his great body was undulating through the water for thirty feet behind him. "keep cool," said chutney. "aim well for the head and make every stroke tell." the sight of the glaring eyes and the blood-red fangs was enough to appall the stoutest heart. they shrank back in uncontrollable fear, as the long neck rose four feet in air and the body sank under the water. the monster uttered an angry hiss, but before he could spring forbes cast a spear with all his might and the sharp point pierced the serpent's body a foot below the head. "back for your lives," he cried, and as they darted up the island the monster uttered a fearful sound, part hiss, part bellow, and flung half his length in contortions on the sand. guy sprang forward and launched another spear that entered the slimy body near the center, but neither wound was mortal and the great serpent came on unchecked. in one respect they had the advantage of him, as guy accidentally discovered, for the wicked eyes blinked in the torchlight and the monster's actions showed that his powers of sight were limited to darkness. he was wonderfully quick and agile, however, for a sudden convulsive leap carried him almost to the feet of his antagonists, and again they scattered in alarm. the serpent's whole body was now on shore, with the exception of the tail, which was lashing the water to a milky foam. seizing another spear guy circled to one side, and boldly approaching the trembling coils, with one terrific blow he planted his weapon into the serpent's body so deeply that the spear pinned the monster firmly to the ground. a cry of horror burst from his companions as the huge head swung round with awful quickness, but it missed guy by barely an inch as he sprang aside. the serpent's contortions were now frightful to see, as he squirmed and twisted to tear loose from the weapon. "now let him have it," cried guy; and in an instant the remaining spears, half a dozen in number, were driven deeply into the venomous coils. the struggle was now at its crisis. with axes in hand they were dodging about the writhing monster, seeking a chance to reach the head, when an awful shriek echoed through the cavern, apparently from some distance out on the lake, and then the greek's voice was raised in a loud and urgent appeal for help. what new disaster threatened? chapter xxix. guy saves sir arthur. this new alarm, coming just at the uncertain period of their struggle, was quite enough to strike despair to the hearts of all. "that was sir arthur's voice we heard first," exclaimed forbes. "and it is canaris who is shouting for help. what are we going to do about it?" "tell him to hold out for a moment," cried guy. "i'll wind up this affair pretty quick." raising the axe, he made a sudden dart forward and buried the blade deep in the serpent's head. it was a clever stroke and so forcible that the axe was jerked from his hand. the colonel dragged him hastily back, but the danger was over. the monster was thrashing the blood-stained sand in his death agonies, powerless to do further harm. canaris was still calling for help, and, leaving their dying antagonist, the others plunged across the island. the greek was running up and down the strip of sand, and far out on the lake the canoe was visible in the radius of light, with sir arthur standing erect in the bow. "he won't take the paddle!" exclaimed canaris. "he says there is something splashing in the lake beyond him. he's a dead man if he doesn't get back to the island." "sir arthur," shouted the colonel, "come back; paddle for your life. do you hear me?" the only response was a cry of fright. sir arthur was plainly too dazed to be capable of action. he had just wakened, and the horror of his situation was too much for him. "save me! save me!" he cried. "the serpent is coming; i can hear it splashing the water." "take the paddle," shouted guy, "and steer for the island. if you don't you are lost." this seemed to arouse the imperiled man to action. he snatched up a paddle and, dropping to his knees, drove the canoe forward with frantic strokes. his companions encouraged him with cheering words as he came nearer. the island was barely twenty yards distant when the paddle slipped from his grasp. he turned round, apparently to pick up another, and then threw himself with a dismal cry to the bottom of the canoe. the cause of his new and sudden fright was readily seen. on the edge of the gloom, not many yards beyond the canoe, a violent agitation of the water was visible. there undoubtedly was another large serpent in pursuit, and at that moment it looked very much as though sir arthur was doomed. in spite of all the frantic shouts and directions of his friends he continued to utter piteous appeals for help from the bottom of the canoe. when at length he _did_ recover enough self-control to take hold of another paddle, a serpent's head and body were actually in sight, approaching at a rapid speed. not only was sir arthur's life now at stake, but, in addition, guns, canoe, and all would be lost, thus leaving the rest of the party unarmed on the island, at the mercy of the ravenous serpents who appeared to swarm in the lake. one of those sudden impulses common to his nature now flashed into guy's mind, and, without giving himself a second for deliberation, he flung off jacket and shoes, and before anyone could raise a hand to restrain him, dived headforemost into the lake. he came to the surface within ten yards of the canoe, which was making but feeble progress under sir arthur's erratic strokes. swimming hand over hand, guy reached the bow and quickly drew himself over the side, just as the pursuing serpent came within seven or eight yards of the stern of the canoe. his original intention to paddle for the island was instantly abandoned. bidding sir arthur work lustily, he snatched up his rifle and took a careful aim at the approaching monster, who was snorting and hissing in a truly frightful manner. the sharp report came at once, producing a thousand echoes through the hollow vault of the cavern, and under cover of the drifting smoke, which for the moment concealed the result of the shot, guy sprang to sir arthur's aid with another paddle. half a dozen of his powerful strokes brought the canoe within a yard of the shore. a terrific splashing in his rear, as well as the loud shouts of his friends, warned guy of the imminence of danger. fairly pushing sir arthur out of the canoe into the water, waist deep, he tossed the provisions far out on the island, caught up the guns, and made a frantic leap. he landed on the edge of the sand, and was instantly caught by eager arms, and pulled far up the beach. he turned, to realize with a shudder the narrowness of his escape. made furious by the bullet hole which guy had put in his spotted skin, the monster threw himself on the abandoned canoe, which they had been unable to save, and with a sickening crunch it was shivered to a shapeless mass of fragments, under the pressure of the mighty coils. then, as the serpent flung himself on shore, they realized that it was time to act. a blazing torch in the greek's hand lit up the scene as guy cocked his rifle and awaited an opportunity for a shot. it was not slow in coming. as the long neck and head darted forward, guy fired, and the bullet tore its way through the reptile's throat. there was no necessity for a second shot. the death-agony began right there, and in its convulsive throes the serpent flung himself back into the water, and with a final quiver disappeared in the depths of the lake, leaving a trail of blood on the silvery white sand. with expressions of gratitude for their escape, all hurried down to the broken canoe. "a hundred men could never put this together again," said guy, as he pulled a couple of floating fragments from the water. the torches and rugs were easily procured, and laid away to dry, but the lamp and the oil-flask could not be found. they were probably at the bottom, but no one cared to dive after them. "that was the closest shave i ever saw," said the colonel. "i gave you both up for lost, and as for that daring act of yours, chutney, i cannot find words to express my admiration. you saved sir arthur's life." guy modestly made no reply. he calmly pulled on his jacket and shoes, and suggested that they cross the island and take a look at the other serpent. the reptile was found to be quite dead, and little wonder, after all the spears that had entered his coils. as near as they could judge, he was between thirty and forty feet long, with a body as thick as a small keg. the skin was repulsive and slimy, of a dirty green color. "it's a regular sea-serpent," said melton. "what a sensation a monster of this kind would make if he were put on exhibition at the zoo." "and the other one was fully as large," added guy. "that makes no less than four we have already encountered. there must be a great many in the river and lake." one glimpse of the creature sickened sir arthur. he turned away and sat down on the edge of the raft. up to this moment the excitement had banished all else from their minds. they had fought a desperate fight for life and conquered. at the very flush of their success the shadow of certain death returned, blacker and more forbidding than ever, and in a moment their triumphant feelings were changed to deepest melancholy. a short time before, under the influence of the colonel's philosophical words, they had felt in some manner resigned to a fate that nothing could avert. now it was ten times more horrible and loathsome to contemplate, ten times harder to realize. absurd as it seemed, fresh hope sprang up in their hearts, and they tried to reason themselves into the belief that some unlooked-for chance of escape would offer itself yet. even the colonel's mood had changed, and it was easy to see that he was struggling with some terrible emotion. the desire for life that was strong within him suggested to guy a new plan; nothing, indeed, that offered any hope of escape, but merely a solution to his curiosity. he remembered that on each occasion when their canoe had been caught by the influx of the river it had been carried direct to this island, a fact which seemed to prove the existence of a sluggish current through the center of the lake. did this current continue on past the island, and if so, whither did it lead? a solution to these two problems guy was curious to obtain. it served to occupy his mind, to keep his thoughts from dwelling on the horrible fate that was in store for him. it was more than likely, he told himself, that whirlpools would be found in the center of the lake. well, drowning would be an easy death compared to the lingering tortures of starvation. chapter xxx. a strange discovery. guy's explanation of his intentions was received without comment. presently the colonel said, "you forget that we no longer have a canoe, chutney. we are prisoners on this island." "but we have a raft," replied guy, "and a good one, too. it would be much more convenient and comfortable to travel on." "suppose we try it," said forbes. "anything to get away from this place." "we can't get into a worse hole, that's true," added the colonel. "i believe you are right about the current, chutney, though it can only land us on the edge of some whirlpool." sir arthur was as eager as the rest to get away. he had passed through so many horrors, he said, that he had become accustomed to them, and it mattered little what the future held in store for him. the raft was dug out from the sand and found to be in perfect condition. it was fastened together with twisted withes of some flexible wood. it was no easy task to get it into the water, but by all working together, and using the guns and paddles as levers, it was finally pushed into the lake and floated lightly on the surface. the rugs, provisions, and what torches remained were carried on board, and with a final look round the island to see that nothing of importance had been forgotten, they quietly embarked, and guy, with a shove of the paddle, sent the raft out on the lake. the object of the journey they hardly knew themselves. they were leaving behind them a spot associated with dreaded memories, and that was all they cared to know. "don't do that," said guy, as canaris picked up a paddle and began to use it vigorously. "we must drift entirely with the current." the torch was placed securely in a crevice of the logs, and in a very short time it was proved beyond a doubt that some current did exist. the island faded slowly from view. still reluctant to face their situation they grouped together and discussed various things. the greek gave a long account of his curious wanderings and adventures. guy and melton spoke of their thrilling experiences in burma only the previous year, and colonel carrington entertained them with the tale of his participation in the bombardment of alexandria in '82. so the hours passed on, and still they chatted of the outside world, forgetting for the moment the hopelessness of their present situation, the living tomb that had cut them off forever from the light of day. "this reminds me of something i read a few months ago," said sir arthur, who was facing the situation with surprising calmness. "some person mailed me from london _blackwood's monthly_ containing an installment of a story by the fellow who wrote that deucedly clever book, 'king solomon's wives.' ah! what was the name now--aw, yes, haggard--rider haggard----" "beg pardon, sir arthur," interrupted the colonel, "but the title was 'king solomon's mines,' not his wives." "aw, that so, carrington? very well; doesn't make much difference. however, the hero of the story was traveling, as we are, on a lake, only it was in the open air, and the outlet was slightly beneath the surface. the water ran under a high wall of rock, and sucked the poor fellows and the canoe under. it would be funny if this lake had the same sort of an arrangement." "well, it hasn't," replied the colonel. "we went all around the walls in a canoe, and if any such place as that had been in existence we would not be here now, that's all." "no, i suppose not," said sir arthur. "i'm going to take a nap. wake me if anything turns up, will you?" and making a pillow of one of the rugs, he was soon snoring. "it will be a mercy if he never wakes," said chutney in a husky voice. "not much danger of that, however. we have food enough to last us a couple of weeks yet, and unless we take your suggestion, colonel, and toss it into the lake, we are good for that length of time, i suppose." "yes," rejoined the colonel, "unless we get sucked into a whirlpool or the serpents attack the raft in force." after that nothing was said for an hour or more. their fate stared them in the face with all its awful realism. but even under these circumstances they grew drowsy, and dropped off one by one among the rugs, except guy, who declared his intention to stay awake and be on the lookout for any danger that might threaten. his was a solemn and lonely vigil. he envied his companions their power to sleep, as the canoe drifted on through the gloom. the torch burned slowly out, and he replaced it with a fresh one. his loaded rifle lay within reach, but nothing happened to arouse his fear. sad and bitter were the reflections that surged into his mind. as the events of his life rose up before him with wonderful clearness time passed unheeded, and at last his brain grew weary, and rolling over on the rugs he fell instantly into a deep slumber. strangely enough he was the first to awake. he had slept a long while, he saw at a glance, for the torch was burnt almost to a cinder. the rest were still sleeping. "we must have been drifting for at least twelve hours," he said half aloud. "we should be across the lake by this time." he picked up a fresh torch and lit it from the expiring flame of the other. as he stuck it in the crevice the glare suddenly revealed a wall of rock a few yards distant, and in a very short time the raft struck the shore with a harsh rattle that proved the impulse of the current beyond a doubt. the concussion failed to rouse the sleepers, and guy was hesitating whether he ought to do so or not when a faint sound came indistinctly to his ear. at first he could scarcely believe the evidence of his own senses. he fancied it must be a delusion, a buzzing in his ears. the strangest part of it was that the sound actually resembled running water. he listened a while longer, and then quietly woke the greek, who sat up, rubbing his eyes. "canaris," he whispered, "do you hear anything?" an interval of silence followed, inexpressibly painful to guy, and then the greek cried excitedly, "yes, i hear running water. it comes from the other side of the cliff." "then i am not mistaken," was guy's joyful exclamation. "we both hear it. it can be no delusion." then his heart sank as he thought of the wall of rock before them. "it is the outlet of the river," he said bitterly, "only a few yards distant, and it might as well be a thousand miles." remembering what sir arthur had told them, he looked anxiously at the surface of the lake, but the water was calm and quiet, and the raft hung motionless. "the outlet is far beneath the surface," said canaris. "you can tell that by the sound. if it were near the top we would be instantly sucked under." impelled by an irresistible impulse guy seized the torch and held it above his head. "look! look!" he cried, in a voice that trembled with excitement. "the cliff slants at an angle. there are crevices to hold one's hands and feet. make no noise, canaris; don't wake the rest, but help me to reach that ledge yonder and i will see where this leads." the cliff slanted indeed, but at an almost imperceptible angle. the raft tilted slightly as canaris pushed guy up the face of the rock, but the latter succeeded in reaching a small ledge six feet above the water. "all right," he whispered. "i can see plenty of places to catch hold of beyond me. now fasten a torch to one of the paddles, canaris, and hold it as high as you can." this was a clever suggestion. the greek fortunately had a bit of cord about him, and in a moment the torch was throwing a dull light far up the rugged slope of the rock. guy continued to climb higher and higher, keeping a cool head in spite of his excitement, and testing well each crevice or projecting ledge before trusting his weight to it, and at last, with a throb of joy that nearly took his strength away, he pulled himself out upon the flat summit of the rock. seventy feet below him was the raft and its occupants, glowing in the torchlight. guy crawled forward on his hands and knees, and soon reached the verge of the rock on the other side. the running water was below him, much farther, indeed, than the level of the lake, but the roar of the torrent was loud and distinct to the ear. he turned and crawled back. "canaris," he whispered down, "i have reached the top of the cliff. there is running water on the other side. waken the rest as quickly as possible, and send some one up with a torch. i forgot to bring one with me." chapter xxxi. a terrible blunder. from his gloomy perch on top of the rock guy could see all that happened plainly. canaris woke his companions as speedily as possible. their astonishment at finding guy missing was very great, and at first they seemed scarcely able to comprehend the greek's explanation. then they glanced eagerly overhead; and hailed guy with shouts of joy. "here, hoist me up," cried the colonel. "i'll take him up the torch." "no, i'll go!" exclaimed forbes. "i'm a pretty expert climber, colonel, and won't run any risk." "bless me!" ejaculated sir arthur. "did that young man chutney walk up the face of that wall? why, he's a freak." canaris solved the matter by picking up one of the leathern bags and tearing it open. "look!" he shouted up to guy. "it was fortunate we kept these. here are the ropes and hooks by which we scaled the walls of harar." "hurrah!" cried chutney. "just the thing! i had forgotten about them." "now," continued the greek, "both of you can go up the rock and i will remain here with sir arthur." he dragged out the four ropes, spliced two of them together to make the required length, and then, giving the end to forbes to hold, he threw the iron hook skillfully toward guy. it landed on top of the cliff, and guy fastened it securely to a crevice. "now you can come up," he shouted down. placing a torch in each pocket, forbes began the ascent, and speedily reached the top. the colonel followed with equal dexterity. "all right?" called the greek. "yes," replied chutney; "all right. we will return as soon as possible. if anything happens fire your gun." guy lit a torch, and the glare revealed only the narrow ledge on which they stood. beneath and overhead was empty space. they paused a moment to listen to the sound of the running water. "it is far beneath us," said the colonel; "possibly a hundred feet, but it is the outlet of the lake, i am sure. upon my word, chutney, i believe we will get out of this scrape yet." "come on," said guy briefly; and he led the way along the narrow path. they traveled in silence for five minutes, until the light from the raft had nearly vanished, and then guy halted suddenly. a wall of rock, steep and smooth, prevented further advance. "come, let us go back," he said; they retraced their steps until they were near the starting point. under foot were loose fragments of stone. guy picked up one of these and tossed it over the edge. a faint splash was distinctly heard a few seconds later. "the river is directly beneath us," said the colonel. he picked up another stone, and moving off a few yards, cast it down. this time it struck something hard after the same interval. "there must be a shore to the river," he said. "what shall we do now? follow the top of the cliff in the other direction?" "no," said guy. "we must scale the precipice right here." "impossible!" declared forbes. "our ropes are not long enough." "canaris has two more," replied guy; "go and get them." melton hurried off at once. the raft was close at hand, and in five minutes he was back. "here are the ropes," he said. "canaris tied them together and tossed up one end." guy skillfully made one continuous rope about eighty feet long. in breathless silence he let the hook drop over the edge, paying out the line yard by yard. seventy-five feet from the top the strain slackened. "it has reached the bottom," cried guy joyfully. "we had better make sure," said forbes. "haul up the rope again." as the hook came over the top melton grasped it. "are the ropes securely tied?" he asked. "yes; they won't part," replied guy. "all right, then. hold the end tightly. here goes." he flung the hook far into the air, and the next instant guy felt a sharp jerk. "the hook is swinging in air," he cried in wonder. "i was right," said melton; "that was only a ledge it struck before. the bottom may be a hundred feet or more distant." guy hurriedly pulled the rope back and fastened the hook to the top of the cliff. he made a noose in the other end and placed it under his shoulders. "now let me down," he said coolly. "if i miss the ledge you can haul me up again." no one made any objections. it was perilous, of course, but some one had to do it, and why not chutney? they lowered him into the darkness foot by foot, and at last the strain slackened. "all right," came the welcome cry from below. "i'm on the ledge. it's two or three feet wide. now come down hand over hand, one of you." "i'll go," said forbes. "you will have to remain here, colonel, to help us again." meanwhile guy had lit a torch, and when melton began the descent the yellow glare was visible far below. the face of the cliff, though sheer, was full of rough projections for his feet, and in a short time he stood beside chutney on the ledge. wrapping the end of the rope about his arm, guy called loudly, "throw the hook far into the air, colonel. do you understand?" "all right," was the immediate response, and in a moment, as the rope swung over their heads, a heavy sound was heard beneath. "it reaches the bottom," cried guy joyfully. "the rope is slack." he hauled on it eagerly, until ten yards or more lay in coils at his feet. then it became taut. the bottom of the cliff was fifty feet below. the roar of the water was now loud and fierce, but it lay more to one side. directly beneath them was solid ground. with a trembling hand guy pulled at the hook and secured it to the ledge. claiming the right to go first, he let himself over the verge, and a joyful hail announced that he had reached the bottom in safety. melton stuck his torch in a crevice of the rock and started after him. as his feet touched the ground guy lit a fresh torch and the light revealed a level space of white sand, strewn with rocks. overhead was the glow of melton's torch on the ledge, and far beyond on the dizzy summit of the cliff twinkled the light that the colonel held. "we are on the bottom," shouted guy, with all his might. his voice echoed again and again through the cavern. a reply came back, but it was almost lost in the roar of the unseen waters. with feelings that it would be difficult to describe they now advanced along the sand, bearing the torches high over their heads. with each step the sound grew louder. it was not the harsh, spasmodic roar of water dashing among sunken rocks, but resembled rather the swift outpour of a torrent gliding over a smooth, unbroken bed. "here we are," cried chutney. "i nearly stepped in the water without seeing it." he held his torch out with one hand, and its glowing radius revealed a strange sight. twenty yards to their left a rapid, unbroken sheet of water burst with terrific force from a dark archway in the very face of the smooth cliff. it was the outlet of the lake. in width it was about forty feet, though the opposite side of the river was shrouded in darkness. on the spot where they stood a reflux current had worn an inlet into the sandy shore, and here a stretch of comparatively calm water was circling in swirling eddies, a startling contrast to the furious sweep of the torrent beyond. yes, there was no doubt of it, here was the continuation of the underground river, the way that led to safety and hope. with strange emotions they watched in silence the dark flood pouring from its natural archway in the face of the cliff. to their right the sandy shore seemed to spread away smoothly into the darkness, but before they could scrutinize their surroundings more closely a strange, sharp sound echoed through the vaulted roof of the vast cavern, succeeded by a faint shout. "it was the report of the greek's rifle," exclaimed melton, in horror-stricken tones, "and it was carrington who shouted. some calamity has happened." staggering with fear, they hastened back to the edge of the cliff. melton clutched the dangling rope. "stop!" cried guy, in tones of agony. "my heavens, melton, we are lost, doomed to the most horrible of deaths. what blind, desperate fools we were. we can never get back to the lake, and our companions can never reach us here. we could not be more widely separated were the world itself rolling between us." "what do you mean?" cried forbes. "are you mad, chutney?" "mad? no. i wish i were. you are blind, melton. _how can we get that rope up the seventy feet stretch from the ledge to the summit of the cliff?_" chapter xxxii. good-by to the lake. melton dropped the rope and staggered back from the cliff, his face deadly pale. "yes," he said hoarsely, "you--you are right, chutney. how could we have done such a foolish thing? from that narrow width of the ledge one could not throw a rope twenty feet in air. we are hopelessly cut off from our companions." "hullo, down there!" it was carrington hailing them from the top of the cliff, and they could make out his figure dimly in the torchlight. "what is the matter?" shouted guy lustily, making a trumpet of his hands. in a moment the reply came distinctly to their ears. "canaris hears a strange cry from the lake. you had better come up." "we are cut off," guy shouted back. "we cannot get the rope back to the top of the cliff. go tell canaris"--his voice sank to a whisper, and he dropped on the sand beside melton. the colonel did not answer. the torch moved off along the cliff and then stopped, no doubt directly above the raft. "he has gone to aid canaris," said guy. "i would like to know what is taking place on the lake." "ah!" said forbes, "here he comes back now." the torch moved along until it was directly over their heads, and then the colonel called down: "come up to the ledge. i have a way to save you." guy and melton sprang to their feet in amazement. they could hardly believe they had heard aright. "what can he mean?" cried guy. he seized the rope and started up hand over hand, placing his feet on the rough places in the wall. melton joined him on the ledge a moment later. the torch he had left there was still burning, and its light showed the colonel where they were. "watch sharp below there," he cried, and almost instantly guy felt something dangling before his face. he put out his hand and clutched a thin cord. "by jove, melton, it's the fishing lines!" he exclaimed. "the colonel has tied them together." no directions were needed to tell them what to do next. guy loosened the hook and fastened the line to it securely. "go ahead," he shouted to the colonel, and the rope instantly began to ascend. in less than five minutes, though it really seemed an hour, the colonel signaled down that all was ready. it was a perilous undertaking to go up the face of the cliff with nothing but a smooth rope to hold to, but at guy's bidding forbes made the attempt. a great load seemed lifted from guy's mind when he heard his friend's voice at the top, and without a moment's hesitation he started up himself. had the face of the rock been perfectly smooth he could never have reached the summit, and even by the aid of the rough places he found it a terribly difficult task. two or three times he swung helpless in mid-air, and just when he felt that he could go no farther he was pulled to the top without any effort of his own, and fell over from sheer exhaustion. he was all right in a moment or two and, hauling up the rope, they hurried back to the raft. canaris and sir arthur hailed them gladly. it was the work of a moment to attach the hook to the top of the ledge, and one by one they slid down to the raft. here a startling surprise awaited them. among the rugs lay a dark-skinned savage, half naked and frightfully emaciated, while on the end of the raft rested a canoe much worn and battered. "what on earth does this mean?" exclaimed chutney. "where did you get that fellow? is he dead?" "no, he lives," replied canaris. "i heard a strange cry out on the lake. that was the time i fired my rifle. then i saw this canoe drifting toward the raft, and when it came near enough for me to catch hold of i found this poor fellow lying in the bottom. nothing else was in the canoe, not even a paddle. just before you came i was talking to him. i know a little of the language, and he managed to tell me that he belongs to oko sam's tribe of gallas. his name is bildad, and he is the same native who was pursued into the cavern by the abyssinians." "but how did he get away from the serpent?" asked forbes. "i don't know," replied canaris. "when he gets a little stronger i will find out. i gave him some food and he devoured it like a wild beast. he was terribly afraid we would kill him, and i could hardly make him believe otherwise." "and what have _you_ discovered?" exclaimed sir arthur, who was bursting with impatience. "must we die in this horrible place or is there hope of escape?" chutney hurriedly related their adventures and the great discovery that had been made. "yes," he concluded fervently, "we have every reason to hope. if all goes well we shall resume our journey down the river in a few hours." "chutney," cried the colonel solemnly, "i fear you are deceiving us and yourself with false hopes. the outlet of the lake is found, it is true, and by means of this rope we can reach it, but how are we to travel on down the river? can you carry this raft over the cliff yonder?" "yes," said guy, with a confident smile. "i can take the raft over the rocks. it can be taken apart, and one by one the logs can be hauled to the top of the cliff and let down on the other side. to put it together again will prove no difficult matter." "a splendid plan, chutney," cried the colonel. "i retract what i said. and how about the canoe? can we take that along also?" "yes," answered guy, "we will take it with us on the raft. it may prove of use; but the raft, i think, will be safer for us to travel on. and now let us set about the task without losing any time. the transportation of the raft will be a difficult and arduous undertaking." "the first thing in order is to get bildad to the top of the cliff," said canaris. this was not accomplished without some difficulty, for the poor fellow was in a pitiable state of weakness; but finally, by putting a noosed rope under his arms, chutney and the colonel, who had gone up ahead, drew him in safety to the top and placed him on a couple of rugs. then one by one the bags of provisions, the torches, the paddles, and the arms were tied to the rope and pulled up. sir arthur was sent up last, and forbes and the greek were left alone on the empty raft. after some consideration they decided on the following plan: forbes and canaris would take the raft apart and fasten the rope to the logs. sir arthur and the colonel would draw them up, pull them along the top of the cliff, and lower them gently to chutney on the other side, who would receive them on the ledge, loosen the rope, and throw them down the remaining fifty feet to the ground, where the soft sand would receive them without injury. guy was speedily lowered to the ledge, where the torch was still burning. three more stuck in the crevices served to illuminate the top of the cliff. down in the lake melton and canaris quickly severed the withes that bound the raft together, and in a short time the first log was swung gently down to guy, who stood it endwise on the ledge, loosened the noose, and pushed it over the brink. it fell with a dull crash. in half an hour the raft was lying at the bottom of the cliff, and then several alterations were made. chutney exchanged places with forbes, and sir arthur, who found himself unequal to the task of pulling the heavy logs to the top of the cliff and dragging them along the summit, took the greek's place, and went down to assist chutney with the raft. sir arthur and guy transferred themselves to the canoe as the raft grew smaller, and when the last log went up they noosed the rope about the center of the canoe itself and went up hand over hand and joined the others. the canoe was pulled up with some difficulty, and lowered to guy, who allowed it to remain on the ledge, which, though narrow, was ten or twelve yards long. the baggage was next lowered, and then, one at a time, bildad going first, they descended to the platform where guy was awaiting them. forbes was the last one down, and, with a dexterous jerk, he threw the hook loose from above, and it but narrowly missed their heads as it cleared the ledge and struck the ground. it was dragged back and hooked in place. the final descent was not free from accident, for the canoe slipped from the noose and fell with a crash, but with no other mishap all reached the solid earth, and with the casting off of the rope from the ledge was severed the last link that connected them with the underground lake and its horrors. chapter xxxiii. a terrible ride. their first act showed the true character of these brave men. "let us thank god for our deliverance," said guy solemnly, and kneeling on the wet sand--an example that was followed by all--he offered a simple and fervent prayer. renewed hope was visible on their faces when they rose to their feet in the dim light of the torch. "we will put the raft together," said guy, "and then have something to eat before we start." it was but a short distance to the water's edge, and by all working industriously the logs were soon lying on the sandy beach, and forbes was fastening them together as before. bildad, from the warmth of the rugs, watched these proceedings with a look of mute wonder on his dusky features. as soon as the raft was ready the baggage was placed on it. "take the canoe along," said forbes. "it is too badly shattered by the fall to use, but it will furnish us with torches and firewood." there was room to spare, so the boat was placed on one end of the raft, and then sitting on the sand they made a hearty meal of crackers and figs. "i don't admire the appearance of that river very much," remarked the colonel. "it comes through the cliff as though shot by a cannon. no wonder, though, when you think of the terrible pressure from above." "we will make up for lost time by rapid traveling, then," said forbes. "ah, you think so?" cried sir arthur. "bless me, i hope we will. i have an engagement to dine with lord balsover at the hotel bombay at aden on the 10th at six o'clock in the evening. he touches there on his way to india, and i can't disappoint him, you know." "drop him a few lines, ashby, and postpone the engagement a couple of weeks," remarked the colonel dryly. "bless me! can i do that?" ejaculated sir arthur. the laugh that followed was cut short by guy's short, decisive voice: "get ready, it's time to start." the raft lay partly in the water, and with a hearty shove from all it was pushed clear of the shore. forbes and canaris held it while it tossed up an down in the swirling eddies. "get on board," directed guy, setting the example himself, and assisting bildad. forbes remained on shore, holding the corner of the raft till all had passed on board. it trembled fiercely in his grasp, as though eager to be off on the journey. far overhead the abandoned torch was glowing dimly on the summit of the cliff, a patch of brightness that made the gloom round about all the blacker by contrast. for the first time a sudden realization of the unknown perils that lay before them flashed into the minds of the little party. "let go, forbes," said guy in a firm voice. melton sprang nimbly on board and grasped a paddle. the raft quivered a moment and then shot, swift as an arrow, toward the turbulent stretch of water beyond. then came a tremendous lurch, a riotous dash of spray that took away their breath, and with a dizzy speed that was simply indescribable the trembling craft was whirled down the torrent. the first sensation was one of uncontrollable fear, and they hung with all their might to the logs, expecting every instant to be tossed into the water. round and round spun the raft in dizzy revolutions, until their heads were dizzy and aching. then the harsh roar subsided, and in a little while the raft became quiet and rested on the surface of the water with hardly a quiver. and now they ventured to sit up. they appeared to be moving with the velocity of a railroad train. on both sides, a few yards from the raft, smooth walls of rock were visible. overhead was empty space. "if this could continue," said guy, "we should reach the end of the river in a few days." "it won't last," said forbes gloomily. "we'll soon run across some bad water." his fears were shared by the rest, but as time passed on and they continued to speed smoothly between the rocky walls, they began to feel less apprehensive of danger. "bildad seems to be feeling quite chipper," said guy. "suppose you ask him how he tricked that serpent, canaris." "well, i'll try him," was the reply. the conversation commenced, and the harsh jabber which they carried on was very interesting to the rest of the party. "bless me; you'd think the greek was talking in his own tongue," remarked sir arthur. "reminds me of our old greek professor at balliol college, oxford. he loved the language of the athenians so much that he hated to use the english tongue at all. worst of it was he expected all of us to be as fluent as himself. made us all talk greek in the class-room. i'll never forget how we got even with him. lord somebody or other--i can't recall the name now, but it was some celebrated man--visited the college. i don't suppose he knew greek from hottentot, but we made the professor believe it was a famous greek scholar who was coming, one who had been making excavations on the site of old troy during the past four years, and who, strangely enough, was then in england and expected on a visit to oxford. the professor prepared an elaborate address in pure greek, and when the visitor entered the class-room he delivered it in the most eloquent manner. "'what's that fool talking about?' asked the visitor. "'oh,' says young ormsby, who was sitting near me, 'he's lecturing the class on 'political economy in ancient athens.' he'll be through in a moment and able to receive you.' "the visitor left the room highly insulted, and the professor, when he discovered the truth a day or two later, nearly took apoplexy." as the laughter that greeted this little reminiscence of sir arthur's ceased, canaris finished his conversation with bildad. "it is difficult to converse with him," he reported, "but from what i can learn he dived from the very embrace of the serpent, and succeeded in swimming to the other canoe, which he had turned adrift only a moment or two before. without paddles or food he floated behind us into the lake." "it's a miracle that he escaped the serpents," said the colonel, "floating about on the lake all the time." "but how did he know anything about the entrance to the river?" exclaimed guy. "did you ask him that, canaris?" "yes," said the greek. "he says he discovered it himself a year or two ago just as the old englishman must have done." "well, it's a lucky thing for bildad that he ran across us," was guy's comment; and bildad, to judge from his contented expression, seemed thoroughly to appreciate this fact. as the river continued swift and smooth, with no signs of danger ahead, all went to sleep except canaris and the colonel, who were intrusted with the care of the raft. several hours later they were relieved by chutney and forbes, and thus all secured a fair night's rest. a scanty share of food was doled out for breakfast, as the supply was getting very low. some time afterward a faint roar was heard in the distance, and almost before they could prepare for danger a violent cross current struck the raft, tossing it about most perilously, and they caught a glimpse of a furious body of water issuing from a narrow passageway. "that was the other channel, the one we should have taken in the first place," exclaimed guy. "we are now on the main river again." "they travel separately for quite a distance," remarked the colonel. "the lake must be seventy or eighty miles in our rear. we are making splendid time." little did they imagine at that moment how great a change was close at hand. the river glided smoothly between its massive walls with scarce a murmur. an hour later forbes held up a warning finger. an ominous sound was heard far below that increased in volume with every second. "cling to the raft for your lives," shouted chutney. the first words were audible; the last were drowned in the mighty roar of the water, so sudden was its approach. by the torchlight they saw for an instant the billows of tossing spray. then the raft plunged madly like a thing of life, a great wave broke over it with stunning force, and all was darkness. none could remember clearly what happened after that. plunging over the crests of enormous waves, whirling round and round in dizzy revolutions, drenched by icy showers of spray, grinding and crashing on countless rocks, the raft went on its way through that awful stretch of rapids, holding together by nothing short of a miracle. a full hour it lasted, though it must have seemed like days to the wretched voyagers. then the wild pitching and tossing subsided, the crash of the furious water grew fainter, and all was calm and peaceful as before. chapter xxxiv. more misery. perceiving that the danger was over, guy ventured to sit up. his clothes were dripping wet, but fortunately he kept his matches in a tin box, and striking one cautiously, he lit a torch which had been lying partly under his body, and was not too damp to burn. his companions were still sprawled out on the raft, holding to the logs with all their strength. when guy assured them that all danger was past they sat up, looking very pale and dazed. "that was awful," said the colonel. "it's a miracle the raft lived through such a ride." "the canoe is gone," exclaimed forbes. "washed clear off the deck, and----why, hello, what's the matter, chutney?" guy was looking about the raft with a ghastly and fear-stricken countenance, holding the torch over his head. "a terrible calamity has happened," he cried in a voice that was strangely unnatural. "i fear we are lost men. where are the provisions? where are our torches?" "by gracious, they are gone!" declared the colonel. "clean gone!" it was truly a terrible situation in which they found themselves. the provisions and the torches had been washed off the raft. if they did not reach the open air in two or three days starvation was certain. "no," cried the greek suddenly, "all hope is not gone. look! here is a bag that was lying partly under me. it is half full of crackers." "and i have three torches in my pocket," added sir arthur. "bless me if i know how they got there but here they are, anyhow." "that scant supply of food may last us to the journey's end, if used in moderation," said guy solemnly. "god grant us a speedy passage to the mouth of the river." in spite of chutney's brave attempts to cheer them up, the spirits of the party sank very low. that meager bag of crackers must feed six mouths until they reached the end of the cavern. that event might be in a week, and it might be in a month. the uncertainty and the suspense were terribly trying. it was some consolation to discover that the river was still flowing very rapidly. the possibility of encountering more rapids they now dreaded but little, for it was very improbable that worse places could exist than that which the raft had navigated so stanchly. "we must travel night and day," said guy, "and in darkness. we have four torches left. only when we hear the sound of rapids dare we light one of them." he emphasized his words by putting out the torch that was burning, and instantly they were plunged in total darkness. this marked the commencement of a period in which all trace of time was lost. huddled together on the few remaining rugs, they drifted on and on with the current, alternately asleep and awake. at certain intervals a torch was lit for a few moments while they ate the pitiful scraps of food that guy distributed with rigorous impartiality. the short periods of light were taken advantage of by the colonel to record in his diary the brief incidents of the journey. a few extracts from it, made with his permission, will make sufficiently clear to the reader in what gloomy monotony that part of their cruise was spent which began with the departure from the lake and terminated abruptly in a misfortune remarkable for the utter despair that followed on its track: _first stage._--this is the second day since leaving the lake. we received three crackers apiece. twice a torch was lit to aid us in passing rapids. they proved to be insignificant. _second stage._--we slept by turns. had three crackers apiece. all complain of hunger. bildad clamors for food. current still good. plenty of small rapids. _third stage._--we now sleep most of the time. chutney has cut down the rations to two crackers apiece. bildad is ill. drinks water incessantly and demands food. we are compelled to hide the bag. _fourth stage._--current not so rapid. all in low spirits. we are tortured by hunger. sir arthur dreams of banquets in his sleep. harrows our feelings by his accounts of them. bildad very ill. no longer wants food. _fifth stage._--alas! worse and worse! bildad and sir arthur ill. chutney is a hero. he tries to cheer us all. gave half his share of food to sir arthur. thinks i don't know. bildad raving. had to tie him to the raft. _sixth stage._--bildad and sir arthur very weak. today a gleam of hope. canaris, after many trials, caught a fish a foot long. we devoured it raw with the utmost greed. our strength is fast leaving us. _seventh stage._--chutney still hopeful. bildad and sir arthur in a bad way. provisions for three days still remain. we _must_ reach the mouth of the river by that time. canaris fished, but caught nothing. _eighth stage._--the outlook is dark. i fear none will ever read these pages. the river begins to run sluggishly. bildad shrieks and raves continually. sir arthur is better. they are all asleep now. forbes and i were put on guard, but forbes has gone to sleep, and i am afraid i shall do the same without knowing it. a dizzy weakness is coming over me, and---at this point the writer appears to have dropped his book and pencil and fallen asleep. just what space of time was covered by the above quoted entries from the colonel's book is uncertain. a week would probably be a fair guess. the misery of these unfortunate voyagers during that period can hardly be imagined. they suffered continually from the pangs of hunger. they traveled in utter darkness, and, to add to the horror of it all, two sick men had to be ministered to. under these circumstances we again take up the thread of the story. it is not to be wondered at that forbes and the colonel were so derelict as to fall asleep at their post of duty. to remain awake in their condition was simply impossible. it was terribly unfortunate that it should be so, as what follows will prove. the raft encountered no rapids during the time that all were sleeping, and as far as personal danger was concerned it mattered not whether any one was on guard or not. forbes and chutney awoke about the same time. as was guy's usual habit after sleeping, he lit a torch to see how the current was running. the light woke canaris and the colonel almost immediately, while sir arthur turned on his rug and asked feebly for something to eat. the very mention of food brought a hungry glare to their eyes, and guy turned round to reach the bag. it was not in its accustomed place, and he staggered to his feet in astonishment. "it's gone," he cried savagely. "the bag is gone. who has taken it?" they glared at each other with fierce mistrust. "ah, look! look!" shrieked canaris suddenly. "the black wretch!" and springing across the raft he flung himself on bildad and grasped him with both hands savagely by the throat. melton and guy tore him away by main force and there beside the african lay the bag--empty. bildad's lips were full of crumbs, and half a cracker was still clutched in one grimy hand. "kill him. throw him in the river!" shrieked the greek, who was fairly beside himself with rage and hunger. "he is out of his mind," said guy gravely. "he took them in his delirium. not one is left;" as he shook the bag in the air. sir arthur made another piteous appeal for food, and guy took the half cracker from bildad's hand and gave it to him. "none left!" repeated the colonel blankly. "what are we going to do? we'll starve in two days. i feel now as if i were on fire inside." "all our rifles are gone, too," said guy suddenly. "bildad has thrown them overboard. the crafty scoundrel feared we would shoot him for stealing the crackers, and he threw away the guns on purpose. there was method in his madness, after all." "the fiend!" hissed canaris between his teeth. "and it was i who saved his life for this. if i only had known! if i only had left him to perish in the lake!" "hark! i hear rapids or something ahead," said guy at that instant. for the moment this diverted their attention from poor bildad, who lay in a half stupor unconscious of all that was taking place. the sound that guy had heard was close at hand, and in a moment the raft was flung heavily upon a sand bar and remained there motionless. the channel made a sudden, sharp turn, and the current, being too swift to round the sharp angle, dashed with a sullen splash against the shore. guy grasped the torch and staggered forward on the beach. it was the first time his feet had touched land for more than a week. "here is shore and rocks beyond it," he exclaimed. "i see a cavern, too, in the face of the cliff." he continued to move forward with uplifted torch. suddenly he paused and uttered a loud cry. a terrible roar echoed from the cavern a second later, and then with a single bound a great tawny beast sprang out of the shadows, and striking guy to the earth with one blow of his mighty paw, threw himself furiously on the prostrate body. chapter xxxv. bildad drinks new life. the stricken man had no time to utter another cry. the lion--for such it proved to be--paused a moment, with uplifted head, snarling angrily. the torch had been flung back a yard or more toward the water, and was spluttering on the damp sand. guy's companions were helpless with fear and dread. forbes alone had self-possession enough to remember that he had a revolver. it was not loaded, and he trembled so much that he could scarcely draw the shells from his pocket. "hurry! hurry!" whispered the colonel. "the brute may tear him apart any moment." meanwhile guy lay white and motionless in the grasp of the lion. not a muscle quivered, and his eyes were closed. suddenly, as forbes was nervously ramming the shells into the revolver, the beast turned on his prey with a vicious growl and seized guy's arm loosely in his mighty jaws. in another instant chutney would have been dragged off, but help was to come from an unlooked-for source. with a single bound bildad sprang out upon the sand, brandishing a huge spear that canaris had brought with him from the lake. another leap carried him within a yard or two of the lion, and the amazed spectators had a brief vision of the enraged beast quivering for a spring at the audacious african. then the spear flashed in the torchlight, and as bildad sprang to one side, the lion, with a mighty roar, toppled over on the sand--dead. the spear had pierced his heart. for an instant no one realized what had happened. the lion in his fall had cleared his victim entirely, and before any one thought of moving forward guy pulled himself to his feet and staggered feebly toward the raft. melton ran forward just in time to catch him in his arms. "thank god," he exclaimed fervently. "you are not hurt, chutney?" "no, i think not," was guy's response; "only stunned and bruised a little. it was a close call." "close! i should say it was. it's the first time i ever saw a lion killed in that way. bildad saved your life, for melton could never have killed the brute with that toy he has there." a strange sound suddenly diverted their attention to bildad. the savage was ripping open the dead lion's throat with a spear, and throwing himself on his knees, he lapped up greedily the red blood as it flowed from the wound. it was a horrible and fascinating sight. he drank long and deeply, and when at length he rose from his savage feast the ferocity of the lion seemed actually to have flowed into his own veins, so horrible and demon-like was the expression on his dusky face. shaking the blood-stained spear, he shouted two or three times in a frenzied manner, and then tottering to the raft, flung himself among the rugs. "we are saved," cried forbes with sudden inspiration. "there lies meat in plenty." melton's words caused a speedy revulsion of feeling. the colonel shouted for very joy, and canaris sprang toward the dead lion with drawn knife. "cut off as much of the meat as you can," said guy. "here, give me my saber. let me help." he turned to reach it, but a sudden weakness came over him, and he was compelled to lie down on the rugs. the colonel, in deep alarm, made a hasty examination to see if he had sustained any injury, but with the exception of a severe bruising and a slight laceration of the left arm, caused by the lion's teeth, he appeared to be all right. melton and canaris were just on the point of cutting into the dead lion with their sabers, the only weapons that remained to them, when a fierce roar echoed through the cavern, repeated two or three times in rapid succession, and in the gloom they could see a pair of shining eyes. "run for the raft," cried the greek; and, as they reached the shore, a superb lioness bounded forward and stood by the body of her mate. "see!" cried the colonel, pointing a trembling finger. "two more lions coming out of the cavern. push the raft into the water at once or we shall be devoured." the danger was indeed imminent, and yet, in their starving condition, it was hard to leave all that meat behind. forbes, impelled by some mad impulse, pointed his revolver at the angry lioness, but guy grasped his arm before he could pull the trigger. two more lions were now in plain view, stalking slowly out of the shadows. "the pistol is useless," said guy. "we dare not resist. we must get away as silently as possible." the raft had been tossed but lightly upon the beach, and with but little effort it was pushed free of the shore and trembled on the water. a loud roar close at hand caused them to fall on board in frantic haste, and as the swift current whirled them away the three lions trotted down to the water's edge and howled in concert. "we may be thankful we got away with whole skins," said chutney. "it was a great misfortune to have to abandon all that meat, but a delay or an attempt at resistance would have cost us our lives." "it means starvation," said melton bitterly. "those lions came down from the open air to drink. that hole in the rocks led out of the cavern, i have no doubt, and we could have followed it up and perhaps found food, or we might even have abandoned the cavern entirely and finished our journey on top of ground. we must be close to the coast now." this statement of what "might have been" sent their spirits down to the lowest ebb. they realized that melton was undoubtedly right. safety had actually been within their grasp, but the lions had driven them off, and now they were doomed to almost certain death by starvation. even had they chosen to go back and risk the chances it was too late, for the current had taken them far from the spot, and the sandy shores had given way to perpendicular walls of rock. the torch continued to burn brightly, a piece of extravagance that called forth no rebuke. the journey continued amid unbroken silence. sir arthur and bildad were both asleep, though it was no peaceful slumber, to judge from their restless tossings. sir arthur's illness had now lasted a week. it was more of a nervous attack than anything else, but without food it was hopeless to look for recovery. he was extremely weak, and lay most of the time in a stupor. the painful bruises guy had sustained kept him awake much longer than the rest, but at last he too fell asleep. thus several hours passed away, and they awoke in utter darkness. the torch had burnt out during the night, but guy recklessly lit another. the river was flowing rapidly among scattered rocks, and as the raft approached a jagged ledge that cropped up from the water, a dark object was seen clinging to it. "why, it is our lost canoe," said forbes as they drew near. "help me catch it, chutney. we will pass close to it." the raft struck the edge of the rocks, and as it swung round with the current they grasped the end of the canoe and pulled it on board. "it will do for firewood," said guy. "we won't have to travel in the dark any more." "yes, yes; build a fire," said sir arthur feebly, sitting up among the rugs. "i'm cold, chutney; icy cold. have we come to the end of the cavern yet?" "he seems a little better," whispered the colonel, coming close up to guy. "do you know, chutney, i've been thinking for the last hour that we must surely be near the end of the river. since first we entered this cavern we have traveled eight hundred miles. calculate the rate of speed at which the current flows, and you must see that i am right. moreover, we cannot be very far beneath the surface of the earth. those lions do not dwell in the cavern. they only came down for water." "i believe you are right," said guy. "two more days will tell. if we don't reach the open air in that time--well, it won't matter after that whether we reach it or not. i can hardly stand on my feet, and as for the torments of hunger, i need not speak of that. you know them yourself." "yes, i do indeed know what it is," said the colonel bitterly, "but we must endure it a while longer. for myself i do not care so much, but sir arthur is in a bad way, and as for bildad, we may have to bind him hand and foot. he sleeps now, but no one can tell what he may do when he awakes." "we will watch him closely," said guy. "canaris is splitting up the canoe for firewood, and it will no longer be necessary to travel in darkness." "see!" cried the greek, pausing with uplifted axe. "the shores have disappeared. has the river become wide or is this another lake?" "there is still a strong current," said guy. "the channel has suddenly become broad. that is all." a cheerful fire was soon blazing, and the ruddy reflection stained the water far and near, as the raft drifted on with the current. sir arthur fell asleep again, and bildad lay among the rugs as one dead, glutted with his savage feast, and his lips and hands still red with clotted blood. chapter xxxvi. bildad turns cannibal. all through that day--for such we shall call it--they floated on without a single glimpse of the shores, though a good current still existed. their sufferings had now reached a point that was almost unendurable. the emptiness at the stomach and the pangs of hunger had given way to the fierce pains and the appalling weakness that come to those perishing of starvation. for two days, it must be remembered, they had eaten nothing, and for a week previous three dry crackers apiece had been their daily allowance. chutney, with marvelous endurance, retained his strength and affected a hopefulness he was far from feeling, though, if the truth were known, a share of his food for a week past had been secretly given to sir arthur, whose illness had roused his compassion. the colonel was almost too weak to stand--for his previous captivity had undermined his constitution, while melton and the greek made no efforts to conceal their sufferings. bildad, instead of becoming violent, woke up very weak, and lay helpless on his rug. it was pitiful to see how they all turned their pockets inside out and drove their fingers into the crannies of the logs, hoping to discover a stray crumb. it was useless to fish, for they had nothing to put on the hook. after nightfall, as near as guy could guess, the river became very narrow and the current increased perceptibly in speed. the steep and rocky shores seemed scarcely ten yards apart, and overhead hung masses of stalactite almost close enough to strike with the paddle. "we are near the end," said guy, making an effort to speak calmly in spite of his sufferings. "hold out a little longer. i feel sure that we shall be saved." "yes, we are near the end," said the colonel, "very near, chutney. our sufferings will soon be over. you deserve a better fate. i wish----" "no, no, don't talk that way," cried guy. "you will live to see the sunlight again--i am sure of it." the colonel turned over on his side without making a reply. "if we don't reach the mouth of the cavern in twenty-four hours, i for one will never see the light of day," said melton huskily. "i'd hate to die in this place. it wouldn't be so hard out under the open sky." "water! water!" moaned sir arthur feebly, and crawling to the edge of the raft guy filled his helmet and put it to the sick man's lips. he drank deeply and sank back on the rugs. guy crept cautiously forward to the front of the raft again--for every motion was a torture--and resumed his watch ahead, straining his eyes to catch the first glimpse of light that he felt sure must come before long. faster and faster ran the current now and the shores flitted past like dim specters. the channel became more turbulent and rocky, and the raft tossed and trembled as it swept over brawling rapids and grated over unseen obstructions. when guy turned toward his companions again they seemed to be all sleeping, and he envied them their merciful oblivion. bildad was muttering excitedly in his own tongue, and as guy watched him he tossed his arms and sat bolt upright. the ugly face was frightfully distorted and the fever-stricken eyes shone with a baleful light. with an apprehension that he took no pains to disguise guy watched him sharply. there was no telling what this savage might do in the delirium of illness--a delirium aggravated tenfold by the tortures of hunger. guy noted with secret uneasiness that no weapon was lying anywhere near. melton alone had a revolver, and he was half inclined to waken him and ask him for it. bildad, however, made no attempt to leave his place on the rugs. he kept on talking to himself at intervals, his eyes staring vacantly out on the river. a dingy leopard skin was still bound around his loins, and suddenly seizing the end of it he began to chew it greedily. then he noticed the blood still sticking to his fingers, and placing his hand in his mouth he sucked it with a hollow noise that made guy sick. suddenly his eyes became fixed and glaring, his hands dropped to his side, trembling nervously, and his lips parted in a wolfish expression, that displayed two rows of glistening teeth. a thrill of horror ran through guy from head to foot as he saw what had unmistakably fascinated bildad's gaze. two yards distant, facing the savage, lay sir arthur, propped up slightly among the rugs. his head was thrown back, and in the perspiration, caused probably by his slight fever, he had torn loose the fore part of his flannel shirt, so that the throat and part of the breast were fully exposed, and shone clearly in the soft glow from the fire. to chutney bildad's wolfish gaze admitted of no misconstruction. the sight of the white flesh had roused the savage's fiercest instincts. _at that moment bildad was a cannibal at heart!_ no words can describe guy's feelings as he realized the awful truth. at first a deadly faintness threatened to deprive him of all consciousness. then came a thrill of strength, and his quick mind sought some plan of action. there was no weapon within reach. he must waken the greek. "canaris," he muttered in a low voice, but the word stuck in his throat and died away in a whisper. the sound, slight as it was, drew bildad's attention. a glance at guy's frightened countenance told him his horrible design was discovered. his thick lips parted in a glare of ferocious hatred--the blind fury of a madman. he thrust his hand to his side, drew out a long, gleaming knife, and with a demoniacal laugh sprang at sir arthur, brandishing his weapon. at the first flash of the steel guy uttered a shout that might have wakened the seven sleepers, and threw himself across the raft. he fell short of the african, and staggered to his knees with another wild cry. the glittering blade wavered a second in mid-air, not ten inches from sir arthur's heart, and then, his eyes flashing and his face distorted with passion, bildad turned and threw himself on the man who had thwarted him. guy staggered to his feet in time to meet the shock, and they fell together with a crash, the madman on top. as he blindly threw out his arms in self protection he grasped bildad's wrist, arresting the course of the descending knife. before the fiend could snatch the knife with the other hand he twisted the brawny wrist till the bone cracked. the knife dropped from the nerveless fingers, and bildad shrieked with rage and agony. guy tried to shout, but the savage's uninjured arm clutched his throat, and he felt himself jerked violently along the raft. he struggled and kicked in vain. a mist swam before his eyes, and he felt the agonies of suffocation. with both hands he tore at the brawny arm, but the grip only seemed to tighten, and then he realized that he was on the edge of the raft. he was powerless. he wondered vaguely why the rest did not come to his assistance. he felt his head and shoulders slip over the edge, and then opening his eyes he saw the madman's leering face, flushed with rage and triumph, staring into his own. his eyes closed with a shudder as he seemed to feel the icy waters close over him. then the grasp on his throat suddenly relaxed, and he knew nothing more. * * * * * when guy opened his eyes some minutes later, and saw with wonder the familiar faces of his friends bending over him, he felt as a man might who had come back from the grave. he tried to rise, but a firm hand pushed him gently back, and the colonel's voice said softly, "no; lie down. not a word until you are better." gradually memory came back as he rested, and he knew why his throat felt so queer. in the firelight he saw bildad lying motionless across the logs. the ugly face was smeared with blood, and forbes and canaris were binding the brawny arms and legs. and there lay the knife, flashing back the light from its polished steel. "you came as near to death, chutney, as any man can come," said the colonel a little later, when guy was able to sit up and lean against the fragments of the canoe. "forbes saved you on this occasion. he got awake just in time, and crawling over the logs--for he was unable to walk--he brought down the butt of the revolver on the fiend's head. he first tried to shoot, but his weapon missed fire." "is he dead?" asked guy. "no," replied the colonel; "more's the pity. he seems to be only stunned. we've tied him up securely, so he can't do any more harm. but what started him, anyhow?" guy, with many a shudder, related the events that led to the attack, and his audience were horror-stricken at the terrible tale. the strangest part of it was that sir arthur had slept through it all and was still sleeping. chapter xxxvii. the end of the cavern. after that guy himself fell asleep--a deep, heavy slumber that caused his friends some uneasiness as they listened to his labored breathing and saw the red flush that mounted over his pallid face. later on he struggled back to a wretched consciousness of his misery. he made an effort to rise, but such keen pains darted through his body that his head dropped back on the rug. the least movement was an agony, and his head was aching with a fierce intensity that he had never known before. "i _will_ rise," he muttered between his clinched teeth, and summoning all the power of his iron will he sat up. the remaining half of the canoe was just behind him, and dragging his body a foot or more over the raft he fell back against it with a groan of agony. the glowing embers of the fire shed a dim light over the scene. on his right lay sir arthur, white and motionless. on the left was bildad, his arms and legs drawn up about his body in the throes of suffering. near the front of the raft lay the colonel, face downward on the logs, and close by was the greek, his white features turned toward the firelight. one alone showed any signs of life. melton was leaning over the edge apparently drinking, and presently he raised his head and crawled feebly toward the fire. "how long have i slept?" asked guy in a hoarse whisper. melton turned in astonishment as though frightened by the sound of a human voice. "i don't know," he said, speaking with a great effort. "hours, chutney, hours. a day and a night must have passed since i cracked that fellow there on the head. i hoped you would never wake. this is like dying a thousand times over. it won't last long now. a few hours at the most--and then--" "but tell me," interrupted guy, "the rest, are they--are they----?" "dead?" said melton. "no, i think not. very near the end, though. they can't move. they can't even reach the edge of the raft to drink. water has kept me up a little." crawling inch by inch, he drew himself beside guy and propped his back against the canoe. they sat side by side, too exhausted to speak, mercifully indifferent to their fate. it is doubtful if they realized their position. the last stages of starvation had blunted their sensibilities, thrown a veil over their reasoning faculties. presently guy observed that the raft had entered upon a most turbulent stretch of water. at frequent intervals he heard dimly the hoarse roar of rapids and felt the logs quiver and tremble as they struck the rocks. the shores appeared almost close enough to touch as they whirled past with a speed that made him close his eyes with dizziness, and the jagged roof seemed about to fall and crush him. he saw these things as a man sees in a dream. he could no longer reason over them or draw conclusions from the facts. the increasing roar of the water, the cumulative force of the current, told him dimly that a crisis was approaching. so they drifted on, lost to all passage of time. presently the last embers of the fire expired with a hiss as a dash of spray was flung on them, and all was dark. guy whispered melton's name, but a feeble groan was the only response. he reached out a trembling arm and found that his friend had slipped down from the canoe and was lying prostrate on the rugs. he alone retained consciousness, such as it was. bildad was jabbering in delirium, and guy could catch broken sentences muttered at intervals by carrington or the greek. he felt that his own reason was fast going, and he conceived a sudden horror of dying in darkness. a torch was lying under his hand and he had matches. the effort of striking the light was a prodigious one, but at last he succeeded and the torch flared up brightly over the raft and its occupants. the sudden transition from darkness to light had a startling effect on the very man whom guy supposed to be past all feeling. sir arthur suddenly sat straight up, his white face lit with a ghastly light. "ha, ha!" he shouted, waving his shrunken hands. "the light, the light! we are saved! do you see it, carrington; do you see it?" then the wild gleam faded from his eyes, and in a quavering voice--a mere ghost of his old pompous manner--he exclaimed: "to the guards' club, waterloo place! do it in twenty minutes, driver, and the half sovereign is yours. go by way of piccadilly; it's the near cut." a moment later he added: "i'll be late. what beastly luck!" then a swift change passed over his face. "ha! ha! there's the light again," he cried exultantly. "look, carrington, look----" his lips trembled over the unfinished sentence, and without another word he dropped back on the logs and lay there perfectly motionless. this was the last thing that guy remembered. the torch still burned beside him, and the raft plunged on its dizzy course, but his mind was wandering far away, and the past was being lived over again. he was riding through london streets, dining with his old friends at the club, pulling a skiff over the placid current of the thames, shooting quail on his brother's estate, dancing at a ball at government house, calcutta, marching through indian jungles at the head of his men, plotting the capture of the rajah, nana sahib, in far-away burma--thus the merciful past stole his mind away from the horrors of the present, and he alternately smiled or shuddered as he recalled some pleasant association or stern reminiscence of peril. so the hours passed on. the torch faded and dimmed, burned to a charred ember, and then went out. the water hissed and boiled, crashing on rocks and shoals, beating its fury against the barren shores, and rushing down the narrow channel at an angle that was frightful and appalling. guided by an unseen power, the frail raft rose and fell with the current, whirling round and round like an eggshell, creaking, groaning, and straining at its bonds, like a fettered giant; but the wretched castaways, sprawled in careless attitude across the logs, heard nothing, knew nothing--simply lay with their pallid faces turned toward the blackness and the gloom overhead. ah, how pitiful! if they could only have known what was close at hand, fresh life would have flowed into their wasted veins. they would have gone mad with joy. the roar of the water had now become softened and less violent. the rocks had disappeared, the river slipped like an avalanche through the fast narrowing channel, and at such a prodigious speed that a cold blast of air whistled about the raft. chutney, still propped against the canoe, caught its full effect on his face. it stirred up the flickering spark of life within him and he opened his eyes; he thought he saw a faint gleam of daylight. like the fabled giant that sprang from an uncorked phial, the gray streak expanded with marvelous celerity, growing longer and wider and brighter until it shone like burnished silver on the hurrying tide of the river. guy saw it and that was all. it dazzled his eyes and he closed them. when he looked again the raft was trembling on the edge of the silvery sheet, and then, swift as the lightning flash, a flood of brightness sprang up and around it. he closed his eyes, but the fierce glare seemed to be burning into his very brain. he could not shut it out, though he thrust a trembling arm across his closed eyes. the next instant something rough and pliable struck his face with stinging force, and he felt the warm blood trickle down his cheeks. instantly there came a second shock. the canoe was whirled forcibly from under him, and a heavy blow from some unseen object struck him with stunning violence to the hard logs. an icy wave dashed over the raft, and then another and another. smarting with pain, the blood dripping from his lacerated face and hands, he staggered to his knees. he opened his eyes. at first he could see nothing for the dazzling light that was all around him. then the blindness passed suddenly away, and he saw clearly. the glorious, entrancing light of day was shining on the raft, on the sparkling water, on his motionless companions--everywhere. the raft was dancing on the bosom of a vast and mighty stream that rolled in the blessed sunlight between shores of sparkling green. he saw sloping hillsides and mangrove jungles, wind-tossed patches of reeds and waving palm trees, mountains shooting their rugged peaks heavenward, and billows of forest land rolling off into the distant horizon, while overhead was the deep blue vault of the sky, that perfect sky that had haunted his memory in many a dream--the sky that he had never hoped to see again. the air was redolent with perfume and melodious with the sweet notes of countless birds. flushed and trembling, guy staggered, with new-found strength, to his feet. "saved! saved! saved!" he cried aloud. "thank god! melton! canaris! do you hear? the blessed sunlight is shining around us. why don't you answer? why don't you shout for joy?" but no response came, and the five ghastly figures on the raft remained as stiff and motionless as before. a swift change passed over guy's face. "merciful heavens!" he cried. "can it be? all dead!" he gasped for breath, beating the air with stiffened fingers, and then dropped like a log. * * * * * the warm sunlight still played on the raft, and the yellow tide of the river lapped the roughened logs with a soft and musical murmur. chapter xxxviii. captain becker loses a wager. "no, no, gentlemen. i respectfully beg leave to differ with you. africa never gives up her white slaves." captain lucius becker emphasized his words by bringing his fist down heavily on the frail table before him, and replacing his meerschaum between his lips, he glared defiantly at his two companions. it was a hot and sultry afternoon in march--such a march as only tropical africa knows--and the place was the german military station of new potsdam, on the left bank of the river juba, a few miles from its mouth, in eastern africa. on the broad bosom of the river the sun was beating fiercely, and the mangrove jungles and lofty palm trees drooped motionless in the dead calm. upon the flat roof of the little station, however, the refining touches of civilization had done much to mitigate the severity and discomfort of the heat. an awning of snowy canvas, shaded by the projecting clusters of a group of palms, made a cool and grateful shelter, and under this the three officers had been dining. captain becker continued to blow out great clouds of white smoke as though he had completely squelched all further argument on the subject under discussion. the silence was broken at last by dr. moebius goldbeck. "my dear captain," he said, in slow, measured tones, as he adjusted his eyeglass, "i cannot agree with you. africa has passed through many changes of late years. these men will surely be heard from again, and may even be freed eventually." "yes, yes, you are right, doctor; your views are eminently sound," said lieutenant carl von leyden. captain becker removed his meerschaum from his lips, and shook himself in his chair until his sword clanked on the floor. "now listen," he cried. "these men of whom we speak, the governor of zaila, the english colonel, the captain of the aden steamer, and the other two unfortunate englishmen, not one of these men will ever come out of africa alive, i will wager a hundred thalers." "done!" cried lieutenant von leyden. "done!" echoed dr. goldbeck. hardly had the echoes of their voices died away when the sentry wheeled about hastily and said: "captain, something comes down the river. it has just rounded the bend. it looks too large for a boat." captain becker rushed down below, hurried back with a pair of glasses, and took a long survey. "it is a raft," he cried, turning to his companions. "men are lying on it; whether dead or alive i cannot tell. man a boat at once. the current runs swift, and we will have barely time to reach it." the boat was ready almost as soon as they reached the ground, and under the steady movement of four pairs of oars they shot swiftly out on the yellow tide of the juba. in silence they approached the drifting object, the boat's prow cutting sharply the opposing waves. now it was twenty yards away--ten yards--five yards--then the boat bumped gently on the logs and dr. goldbeck boarded the raft, followed quickly by his two companions. "_mein himmel!_" he cried. "what can this mean? six dead bodies! horrible! horrible!" he turned pale for a moment. then, as his professional instinct asserted itself, he knelt beside the motionless forms, and one by one tore the breast covering away and applied his hand to the heart. "ach!" he cried joyfully, rising to his feet, "they still live; there still remains a spark of life! to the shore, quick! lose no time, or all will die!" a rope was speedily hitched to the raft, and the men began to pull lustily for the bank. "captain becker," exclaimed lieutenant von leyden, suddenly smacking his knee, "you are two hundred thalers out of pocket. there lie the lost men now. that is sir arthur ashby with the sandy beard, and the others are no doubt his companions." "_tausend donner!_ that is true!" cried the doctor. "you are right, carl. it is miraculous!" captain becker smiled grimly, but said nothing. a severe pull of ten minutes brought the raft to the little wharf, and in the strong arms of the german soldiers the rescued men were borne tenderly into the garrison-house and placed on cots that had been made up in readiness for them. never did dr. goldbeck have a more arduous task, but with medicine chest at his side, and two able assistants to carry out his instructions, he toiled unceasingly for hours. then success crowned his efforts, and the patients came slowly back to consciousness. for nearly a week they hovered between life and death, but finally all were pronounced out of danger except bildad, who was struggling in a high fever. at first they knew nothing, could remember nothing, but gradually memory returned, and they realized the full measure of their wonderful escape. guy was the first to rally, and sir arthur was the last, but ten days after their rescue all were able to sit up, and after that they gained strength rapidly. the marvelous tale of their adventures was discussed over and over with their new friends--for most of the englishmen could speak german--and from captain becker they learned the latest news from zaila, which was to the effect that the place had been retaken by the english after a brief but desperate struggle. this information had been brought to the station by a german gunboat six weeks before. guy was very curious to know how far they had drifted down the juba before they were rescued, but of course it was impossible to tell. "it's my opinion," said captain becker, "that the exit from that underground river is somewhere in the vicinity of the big falls, fifty miles above here. i have heard that there are caverns along the bank from which the water pours furiously." "that is probably the place, then," returned guy, "for the bushes hung so low that they dragged the canoe from the raft and tore the skin from my face. i have a dim recollection of all that, but i remember nothing more." guy's companions, however, could not remember even this. the struggle with bildad was the last tangible recollection. after that all was a blank. although they had regained a fair share of strength, the awful experiences of the cruise down the underground river had left indelible traces of suffering. colonel carrington's hair had turned white, and even chutney and forbes had gray locks sprinkled through their dark ones. their faces were hollow, their bodies lean and emaciated, and, in fact, they were changed beyond all power of recognition. contrary to expectation, bildad was now also convalescent. as soon as their recovery was assured, captain becker had very courteously sent to the chief station on the durnford river, some miles south of the juba, to obtain, if possible, a steamer; and one morning, four weeks after their arrival at new potsdam, a noble vessel steamed up the river and anchored before the station. it was the german steamer rhine castle, and was at the disposal of sir arthur, who had assumed the expense of chartering it on behalf of his government. the commander of the vessel, captain wassman, brought a piece of news that made sir arthur desperately anxious to get back to zaila, and very considerably stirred up the rest of the party. a certain portuguese, he said, was in high favor at zaila on account of services rendered in retaking the town from the arabs and somalis, and it was rumored that the government intended to bestow upon him an influential post. "that must be manuel torres," remarked sir arthur to chutney. "bless me, we'll make it hot for the scoundrel!" with many regrets they parted from captain becker and his friends, and a few hours after the german flag on the garrison house faded from view the rhine castle was beating swiftly up the eastern coast of africa on her two-thousand-mile trip. chapter xxxix. conclusion. on a warm, sultry evening in the latter part of may the arabs and somalis who hovered about the outskirts of zaila, keeping well out of reach of the newly-erected fortifications which bristled with guns and british soldiery, heard the sweet strains of "rule britannia" and "god save the queen" floating over the desert. it was the regimental band of the ninth lancers playing in the square of the town on the occasion of the installation of the new governor of zaila--colonel conyers gordon. it was colonel gordon who had conducted the assault on the town some weeks previous, and in recognition of his valor--for the enemy had made a desperate stand--he was now the newly commissioned governor. the official documents had arrived that day, and the town was _en fete_, if we may use the expression; for, in addition to the native population and the soldiery, a number of visitors had come across from aden to do honor to the brave commandant. as the band ceased playing, colonel gordon appeared on the steps of the residency and briefly addressed the expectant people in a few well-chosen words. "the tragedy of a few months ago," he concluded, "is still fresh in our minds. i had the honor to know sir arthur ashby, an honor which many of you likewise enjoyed, and the sad fate of that brave man and his companions comes vividly to our minds tonight. i trust that i shall be enabled to discharge the duties of my office with the same unswerving fidelity." colonel gordon sat down, and the band played "rule britannia." at that moment the rhine castle was dropping anchor in the harbor. as the band ceased colonel gordon rose again, and the people instantly became quiet. by his side was a short, thickset man with dark, sallow features. "i beg to call your attention," began the colonel, "to one who has played an important part in our recent struggle--mr. manuel torres, a portuguese, of whom i can say nothing better than that he deserves to be an englishman. at the risk of his own life he tried to save sir arthur ashby, and after suffering much at the hands of the enemy, he finally escaped in time to do us valuable service in retaking the town. as a recognition of his aid, i propose to appoint him assistant political resident." mr. torres bowed profoundly, and as the people evinced a decided desire to hear from him, he cleared his throat and began to speak in sleek, oily tones. he related, with many gestures, a thrilling tale of his captivity among the arabs, the desperate attempts he had made to save sir arthur and the englishmen from slavery, and how finally he had effected his own marvelous escape. at this point a sudden commotion on the outskirts of the crowd temporarily interrupted the speaker. "it grieves me deeply," he went on, "to reflect on the sad destiny of my dear friend, sir arthur ashby, and of those brave men, for whom i had the highest honor and regard. i risked my life to save them. i interceded with the arab leader, makar makalo, but in vain. he was obdurate. to bring them back from slavery i would willingly lay down my life this minute. i would gladly----" what else mr. manuel torres was willing to do no one ever knew or will know. he ceased speaking abruptly, and his sallow face assumed a ghastly look. through the opening ranks of the people advanced a group of pale and haggard men, led by a ghastly figure with sandy side whiskers in a faded uniform that hung about his shrunken limbs. "bless my soul!" exclaimed this odd-looking stranger. "it's that rascally portuguese, manuel torres!" a great silence fell on the people. for one second the portuguese trembled like a leaf, then he turned and bolted through the residency door, shoving colonel gordon roughly aside in his mad haste. "stop him! stop him!" roared the stranger. "a thousand pounds to the man who takes him alive. he's the ringleader of the insurrection!" colonel gordon hurried down the steps in bewildered amazement. "what does this mean?" he demanded. "who are you?" "who am i?" shouted he of the sandy whiskers. "why, blast your impudence, i'm sir arthur ashby, the governor of zaila. who the deuce are you?" the scene that followed baffles all description. the air rang with frenzied shouts and cheers, soldiers, natives, and visitors surged madly round the little band, and the musicians, quick to grasp the situation, struck up the inspiring strains of "lo, the conquering hero comes!" sir arthur shook himself loose from the embrace of his enthusiastic friends. "the portuguese!" he roared. "the rascal will escape. pursue him! capture him!" now the people comprehended for the first time. a furious rush was made for the residency, the door was jammed in an instant with a struggling crowd of troops and civilians, and then they swept on through the broad hallway in pursuit of the wretched fugitive. in five minutes the town was in an indescribable uproar. the vessels in the harbor fired showers of rockets, and the alarm guns boomed hoarsely from the fortifications. manuel torres, however, overthrown at the very moment of his greatest triumph, made good his escape. he bolted through the back door of the residency, evaded the sentries at the town wall, and fled to the desert. that same night, after a sumptuous repast, guy chutney, at sir arthur's request, modestly related the story of their adventures to the most interested audience that ever graced the walls of the residency. a breathless silence greeted the speaker as he showed the damnable proofs of manuel torres' guilt and treachery, and described with thrilling effect the awful journey through the bowels of the earth. when he concluded the tale that made him a hero in spite of himself, a burst of applause fairly made the residency tremble. then sir arthur rose to his feet. "gentlemen," he said, in a voice which quivered with emotion, "i deem this to be a fitting time to express my--to express _our_--admiration of my young countryman. all my comrades, i am glad to say, displayed a heroism, during our days of trial and suffering, which has never been surpassed by any men in any clime. but, if one man is worthy of special mention for cool bravery, for dogged perseverance, for unflinching, unwavering fortitude and unselfishness, that man is guy chutney. gentlemen," he continued, raising his glass, "i ask you to drink with me to the health of the bravest man i ever met--guy chutney." again a frantic outburst of applause shook the building, and the toast was drunk with indescribable enthusiasm. but guy strove to make himself heard above the uproar. "it is unfair," he said earnestly, when quiet had been partially restored, "of sir arthur to credit me with what i am aware is far more than my just due. truthfully, it should be said that no one of us surpassed his fellows in displaying the qualities sir arthur has just enumerated. such an experience is enough for a lifetime, but if i am ever again called upon to face such perils as we encountered while under africa, may god grant that i have for comrades such true-hearted, loyal friends as these." carrington, forbes, and canaris each spoke briefly in turn; and bildad, under the undue excitement of some wine he had managed to secure, attempted to perform a galla war-dance on the table, and was promptly relegated to the guard-house to sober up. at midnight a steamer left zaila for aden with the glad news, and twenty-four hours later the streets of london were blocked with crowds of people reading the amazing telegram that the newspapers had posted on their bulletin boards. colonel conyers gordon, of course, was not governor of zaila at all, and though it must have been a sore disappointment to the brave old soldier, he readily and gladly installed sir arthur in the residency and assumed his former command of the troops. sir arthur, however, had very different views. "do you mean to say, gordon," he demanded, "that the government actually gave me up for lost, and had no intention of sending an expedition after me at all?" colonel gordon hesitatingly admitted that such was the case. "then," cried sir arthur, "i wash my hands of such a government. i will go home to england, and may the infernal arabs hang, draw, and quarter me if i ever set foot on african soil again." "i trust, sir arthur," argued colonel gordon, "you will not act hastily in this matter. you will admit that the government was somewhat justified in believing your case a hopeless one. the fate of you and your brave companions was thought by everybody to have been nothing short of death. i am sure, had the authorities had the slightest idea that you were living, an expedition would have been sent out. no stone would have been left unturned to rescue you." "well," said sir arthur, somewhat mollified, "i cannot deny that things pointed to our demise. we expected to see you again as little as you expected to see us, probably." "i am glad," said colonel gordon, "that you have decided to take a more reasonable view of the matter. will you not reconsider your determination of resigning your post? let no consideration for me stop you, i beg of you. i should, of course, be glad to accept the position, but yours is undoubtedly the prior right, and your previous experience has amply proven your ability." "colonel," sir arthur replied solemnly, "i'm going back to england. i'm sick of africa. i've had a little more than a genteel sufficiency during the past few months, and i'm pining for a sight of dear old england. i'm going home." sir arthur kept his word. on the same day he mailed his resignation, and handed the reins of office to colonel gordon. after careful consideration, colonel carrington decided to accept the post of assistant political resident that gordon offered him, subject, of course, to the wishes of the foreign office. chutney had at first intended going on to india, but letters from home informing him of the serious illness of his brother decided his return to england, and he sailed from aden a week later, in company with sir arthur and melton forbes, who had been recalled by his paper as soon as they learned of his wonderful journey. canaris accompanied them as far as port said, where he changed to a vessel bound for rhodes. he was eager to see greece after his long captivity among the somalis, and at last accounts he was the proprietor of a celebrated cafe at athens, having inherited a tidy sum of money from a deceased relative. bildad expressed a desire to go back to the galla country, and colonel gordon finally succeeded in obtaining safe passage for him with a caravan bound for the interior. manuel torres met the fate his treachery duly merited. two days after his escape from zaila he fell into the hands of a party of prowling arabs, and was conveyed by them to makar makalo, who determined that he should receive fitting punishment for his renegade conduct. accordingly he sent him under strong escort to harar, and rao khan very obligingly carried out his friend makar's wishes by cooking the wretched portuguese in a caldron of boiling oil. a remarkable thing occurred in the fourth month of governor gordon's rulership at zaila. a bronzed englishman arrived one day with a caravan from the interior. he was speedily recognized as captain waller, and he told a strange story of his adventures. mombagolo, the burman, who, in company with the captain and the hindoos, had been taken into slavery by a tribe of gallas who dwelt far to the west, had been chosen chief of this tribe on the death of its king, probably on account of his stature and strength. his first royal act was to effect the deliverance of captain waller by sending him to the coast. the hindoos had chosen to remain where they were. captain waller eventually returned to england, and forbes was deeply grieved to learn that he would never see momba again, though it was some consolation to know that, instead of a slave, he was an african monarch. guy reached england barely in time to see his brother before he died. as sir lucius chutney was unmarried, guy succeeded to the titles and estates. as a landed proprietor, his duties very plainly lay at home, so he resigned his commission and settled down on the hampshire estate. he spends much of his time in london. he and sir arthur ashby are members of the same club, and the two baronets invariably dine together. "chutney," sir arthur said one day, as he lit his cigar after dinner, "have you ever felt any desire to leave england and resume an adventurous life?" chutney puffed a moment in silence. "sometimes," he said finally. "sometimes i feel as though i should enjoy laying aside home comforts, and, gun in hand, enter the trackless forests once more. somehow civilization palls on a man after years of campaigning. don't you find it so, ashby?" "that," replied sir arthur, "is just what i was getting at. generally i feel a placid contentment with things in general, but once in a while a sort of fever stirs my blood, and i long to get out and rough it somewhere. i tell you, a wild life has a certain charm about it that dies out reluctantly when the fever once gets into a man's blood. some day i really believe i'll return to africa, or some other wild land, for big game. i should enjoy it." chutney grasped his hand. "when you do, old fellow, i'm with you," he said. but so far they have not decided on any definite arrangements. they talk it over frequently, but continue to dine at the club. sometimes forbes drops in, and then from soup to the wine the conversation is sure to cling with unwavering fidelity to that topic of deepest interest--the strange and thrilling things that befell them when they were under africa. the end. * * * * * a pipe of mystery. a jovial party were gathered round a blazing fire in an old grange near warwick. the hour was getting late; the very little ones had, after dancing round the christmas-tree, enjoying the snap-dragon, and playing a variety of games, gone off to bed; and the elder boys and girls now gathered round their uncle, colonel harley, and asked him for a story--above all, a ghost story. "but i have never seen any ghosts," the colonel said, laughing; "and, moreover, i don't believe in them one bit. i have traveled pretty well all over the world, i have slept in houses said to be haunted, but nothing have i seen--no noises that could not be accounted for by rats or the wind have i ever heard. i have never"--and here he paused--"never but once met with any circumstances or occurrence that could not be accounted for by the light of reason, and i know you prefer hearing stories of my own adventures to mere invention." "yes, uncle. but what was the 'once' when circumstances happened that you could not explain?" "it's rather a long story," the colonel said, "and it's getting late." "oh! no, no, uncle; it does not matter a bit how late we sit up on christmas eve, and the longer the story is, the better; and if you don't believe in ghosts how can it be a story of something you could not account for by the light of nature?" "you will see when i have done," the colonel said. "it is rather a story of what the scotch call second sight, than one of ghosts. as to accounting for it, you shall form your own opinion when you have heard me to the end. "i landed in india in '50, and after going through the regular drill work marched with a detachment up country to join my regiment, which was stationed at jubbalpore, in the very heart of india. it has become an important place since; the railroad across india passes through it and no end of changes have taken place; but at that time it was one of the most out-of-the-way stations in india, and, i may say, one of the most pleasant. it lay high, there was capital boating on the nerbudda, and, above all, it was a grand place for sport, for it lay at the foot of the hill country, an immense district, then but little known, covered with forests and jungle, and abounding with big game of all kinds. "my great friend there was a man named simmonds. he was just of my own standing; we had come out in the same ship, had marched up the country together, and were almost like brothers. he was an old etonian, i an old westminster, and we were both fond of boating, and, indeed, of sport of all kinds. but i am not going to tell you of that now. the people in these hills are called gonds, a true hill tribe--that is to say, aborigines, somewhat of the negro type. the chiefs are of mixed blood, but the people are almost black. they are supposed to accept the religion of the hindus, but are in reality deplorably ignorant and superstitious. their priests are a sort of compound of a brahmin priest and a negro fetish man, and among their principal duties is that of charming away tigers from the villages by means of incantations. there, as in other parts of india, were a few wandering fakirs, who enjoyed an immense reputation for holiness and wisdom. the people would go to them from great distances for charms or predictions, and believed in their power with implicit faith. "at the time when we were at jubbalpore there was one of these fellows whose reputation altogether eclipsed that of his rivals, and nothing could be done until his permission had been asked and his blessing obtained. all sorts of marvelous stories were constantly coming to our ears of the unerring foresight with which he predicted the termination of diseases, both in men and animals; and so generally was he believed in that the colonel ordered that no one connected with the regiment should consult him, for these predictions very frequently brought about their own fulfillment; for those who were told that an illness would terminate fatally, lost all hope, and literally lay down to die. "however, many of the stories that we heard could not be explained on these grounds, and the fakir and his doings were often talked over at mess, some of the officers scoffing at the whole business, others maintaining that some of these fakirs had, in some way or another, the power of foretelling the future, citing many well-authenticated anecdotes upon the subject. "the older officers were the believers, we young fellows were the scoffers. but for the well-known fact that it is very seldom indeed that these fakirs will utter any of their predictions to europeans, some of us would have gone to him to test his powers. as it was, none of us had ever seen him. "he lived in an old ruined temple, in the middle of a large patch of jungle at the foot of the hills, some ten or twelve miles away. "i had been at jubbalpore about a year, when i was woke up one night by a native, who came in to say that at about eight o'clock a tiger had killed a man in his village, and had dragged off the body. "simmonds and i were constantly out after tigers, and the people in all the villages within twenty miles knew that we were always ready to pay for early information. this tiger had been doing great damage, and had carried off about thirty men, women, and children. so great was the fear of him, indeed, that the people in the neighborhood he frequented scarcely dared stir out of doors, except in parties of five or six. we had had several hunts after him, but, like all man-eaters, he was old and awfully crafty; and although we got several snap shots at him, he had always managed to save his skin. "in a quarter of an hour after the receipt of the message charley simmonds and i were on the back of an elephant which was our joint property; our shikaree, a capital fellow, was on foot beside us, and with the native trotting on ahead as guide we went off at the best pace of old begaum, for that was the elephant's name. the village was fifteen miles away, but we got there soon after daybreak, and were received with delight by the population. in half an hour the hunt was organized; all the male population turned out as beaters, with sticks, guns, tom-toms, and other instruments for making a noise. "the trail was not difficult to find. a broad path, with occasional smears of blood, showed where he had dragged his victim through the long grass to a cluster of trees a couple of hundred yards from the village. "we scarcely expected to find him there, but the villagers held back, while we went forward with cocked rifles. we found, however, nothing but a few bones and a quantity of blood. the tiger had made off at the approach of daylight into the jungle, which was about two miles distant. we traced him easily enough, and found that he had entered a large ravine, from which several smaller ones branched off. "it was an awkward place, as it was next to impossible to surround it with the number of people at our command. we posted them at last all along the upper ground, and told them to make up in noise what they wanted in numbers. at last all was ready, and we gave the signal. however, i am not telling you a hunting story, and need only say that we could neither find nor disturb him. in vain we pushed begaum through the thickest of the jungle which clothed the sides and bottom of the ravine, while the men shouted, beat their tom-toms, and showered imprecations against the tiger himself and his ancestors up to the remotest generations. "the day was tremendously hot, and, after three hours' march, we gave it up for a time, and lay down in the shade, while the shikarees made a long examination of the ground all round the hillside, to be sure that he had not left the ravine. they came back with the news that no traces could be discovered, and that, beyond a doubt, he was still there. a tiger will crouch up in an exceedingly small clump of grass or bush, and will sometimes almost allow himself to be trodden on before moving. however, we determined to have one more search, and if that should prove unsuccessful, to send off to jubbalpore for some more of the men to come out with elephants, while we kept up a circle of fires, and of noises of all descriptions, so as to keep him a prisoner until the arrival of the re-enforcements. our next search was no more successful than our first had been; and having, as we imagined, examined every clump and crevice in which he could have been concealed, we had just reached the upper end of the ravine, when we heard a tremendous roar, followed by a perfect babel of yells and screams from the natives. "the outburst came from the mouth of the ravine, and we felt at once that he had escaped. we hurried back to find, as we had expected, that the tiger was gone. he had burst out suddenly from his hiding-place, had seized a native, torn him horribly, and had made across the open plain. "this was terribly provoking, but we had nothing to do but follow him. this was easy enough, and we traced him to a detached patch of wood and jungle, two miles distant. this wood was four or five hundred yards across, and the exclamations of the people at once told us that it was the one in which stood the ruined temple of the fakir of whom i have been telling you. i forgot to say that as the tiger broke out one of the village shikarees had fired at and, he declared, wounded him. "it was already getting late in the afternoon, and it was hopeless to attempt to beat the jungle that night. we therefore sent off a runner with a note to the colonel, asking him to send the work-elephants, and to allow a party of volunteers to march over at night, to help surround the jungle when we commenced beating it in the morning. "we based our request upon the fact that the tiger was a notorious man-eater, and had been doing immense damage. we then had a talk with our shikaree, sent a man off to bring provisions for the people out with us, and then set them to work cutting dry sticks and grass to make a circle of fires. "we both felt much uneasiness respecting the fakir, who might be seized at any moment by the enraged tiger. the natives would not allow that there was any cause for fear, as the tiger would not dare to touch so holy a man. our belief in the respect of the tiger for sanctity was by no means strong, and we determined to go in and warn him of the presence of the brute in the wood. it was a mission which we could not intrust to anyone else, for no native would have entered the jungle for untold gold; so we mounted the begaum again, and started. the path leading towards the temple was pretty wide, and as we went along almost noiselessly, for the elephant was too well trained to tread upon fallen sticks, it was just possible we might come upon the tiger suddenly, so we kept our rifles in readiness in our hands. "presently we came in sight of the ruins. no one was at first visible; but at that very moment the fakir came out from the temple. he did not see or hear us, for we were rather behind him and still among the trees, but at once proceeded in a high voice to break into a sing-song prayer. he had not said two words before his voice was drowned in a terrific roar, and in an instant the tiger had sprung upon him, struck him to the ground, seized him as a cat would a mouse, and started off with him at a trot. the brute evidently had not detected our presence, for he came right towards us. we halted the begaum, and, with our fingers on the triggers, awaited the favorable moment. he was a hundred yards from us when he struck down his victim; he was not more than fifty when he caught sight of us. he stopped for an instant in surprise. charley muttered, 'both barrels, harley,' and as the beast turned to plunge into the jungle, and so showed us his side, we sent four bullets crashing into him, and he rolled over lifeless. "we went up to the spot, made the begaum give him a kick, to be sure that he was dead, and then got down to examine the unfortunate fakir. the tiger had seized him by the shoulder, which was terribly torn, and the bone broken. he was still perfectly conscious. "we at once fired three shots, our usual signal that the tiger was dead, and in a few minutes were surrounded by the villagers, who hardly knew whether to be delighted at the death of their enemy, or to grieve over the injury to the fakir. we proposed taking the latter to our hospital at jubbalpore, but this he positively refused to listen to. however, we finally persuaded him to allow his arm to be set and the wounds dressed in the first place by our regimental surgeon, after which he could go to one of the native villages and have his arm dressed in accordance with his own notions. a litter was soon improvised, and away we went to jubbalpore, which we reached about eight in the evening. "the fakir refused to enter the hospital, so we brought out a couple of trestles, laid the litter upon them, and the surgeon set his arm and dressed his wounds by torchlight, when he was lifted into a dhoolie, and his bearers again prepared to start for the village. "hitherto he had only spoken a few words; but he now briefly expressed his deep gratitude to simmonds and myself. we told him that we would ride over to see him shortly, and hoped to find him getting on rapidly. another minute and he was gone. "it happened that we had three or four fellows away on leave or on staff duty, and several others laid up with fever just about this time, so that the duty fell very heavily upon the rest of us, and it was over a month before we had time to ride over to see the fakir. "we had heard he was going on well; but we were surprised, on reaching the village, to find that he had already returned to his old abode in the jungle. however, we had made up our minds to see him, especially as we had agreed that we would endeavor to persuade him to do a prediction for us; so we turned our horses' heads towards the jungle. we found the fakir sitting on a rock in front of the temple, just where he had been seized by the tiger. he rose as we rode up. "'i knew that you would come to-day, sahibs, and was joyful in the thought of seeing those who have preserved my life.' "'we are glad to see you looking pretty strong again, though your arm is still in a sling,' i said, for simmonds was not strong in hindustani. "'how did you know that we were coming?' i asked, when we had tied up our horses. "'siva has given to his servant to know many things,' he said quietly. "'did you know beforehand that the tiger was going to seize you?' i asked. "'i knew that a great danger threatened, and that siva would not let me die before my time had come.' "'could you see into our future?' i asked. "the fakir hesitated, looked at me for a moment earnestly to see if i was speaking in mockery, and then said: "'the sahibs do not believe in the power of siva or of his servants. they call his messengers impostors, and scoff at them when they speak of the events of the future.' "'no indeed,' i said. 'my friend and i have no idea of scoffing. we have heard of so many of your predictions coming true, that we are really anxious that you should tell us something of the future.' "the fakir nodded his head, went into the temple, and returned in a minute or two with two small pipes used by the natives for opium-smoking, and a brazier of burning charcoal. the pipes were already charged. he made signs to us to sit down, and took his place in front of us. then he began singing in a low voice, rocking himself to and fro, and waving a staff which he held in his hand. gradually his voice rose, and his gesticulations and actions became more violent. so far as i could make out, it was a prayer to siva that he would give some glimpse of the future which might benefit the sahibs who had saved the life of his servant. presently he darted forward, gave us each a pipe, took two pieces of red-hot charcoal from the brazier in his fingers, without seeming to know that they were warm, and placed them in the pipes; then he recommenced his singing and gesticulations. "a glance at charley, to see if, like myself, he was ready to carry the thing through, and then i put the pipe to my lips. i felt at once that it was opium, of which i had before made experiment, but mixed with some other substance, which was, i imagine, hasheesh, a preparation of hemp. a few puffs, and i felt a drowsiness creeping over me. i saw, as through a mist, the fakir swaying himself backwards and forwards, his arms waving and his face distorted. another minute, and the pipe slipped from my fingers, and i fell back insensible. "how long i lay there i do not know. i woke with a strange and not unpleasant sensation, and presently became conscious that the fakir was gently pressing, with a sort of shampooing action, my temples and head. when he saw that i opened my eyes he left me, and performed the same process upon charley. in a few minutes he rose from his stooping position, waved his hand in token of adieu, and walked slowly back into the temple. "as he disappeared i sat up; charley did the same. "we stared at each other for a minute without speaking, and then charley said: "'this is a rum go, and no mistake, old man.' "'you're right, charley. my opinion is, we've made fools of ourselves. let's be off out of this.' "we staggered to our feet, for we both felt like drunken men, made our way to our horses, poured a mussuk of water over our heads, took a drink of brandy from our flasks, and then, feeling more like ourselves, mounted and rode out of the jungle. "'well, harley, if the glimpse of futurity which i had is true, all i can say is that it was extremely unpleasant.' "'that was just my case, charley.' "'my dream, or whatever you like to call it, was about a mutiny of the men.' "'you don't say so, charley; so was mine. this is monstrously strange, to say the least of it. however, you tell your story first, and then i will tell mine.' "'it was very short,' charley said. 'we were at mess--not in our present mess-room--we were dining with the fellows of some other regiment. suddenly, without any warning, the windows were filled with a crowd of sepoys, who opened fire right and left into us. half the fellows were shot down at once; the rest of us made a rush to our swords just as the niggers came swarming into the room. there was a desperate fight for a moment. i remember that subadar pirã¡n--one of the best native officers in the regiment, by the way--made a rush at me, and i shot him through the head with a revolver. at the same moment a ball hit me, and down i went. at the moment a sepoy fell dead across me, hiding me partly from sight. the fight lasted a minute or two longer. i fancy a few fellows escaped, for i heard shots outside. then the place became quiet. in another minute i heard a crackling, and saw that the devils had set the mess-room on fire. one of our men, who was lying close by me, got up and crawled to the window, but he was shot down the moment he showed himself. i was hesitating whether to do the same or to lie still and be smothered, when suddenly i rolled the dead sepoy off, crawled into the anteroom half-suffocated by smoke, raised the lid of a very heavy trapdoor, and stumbled down some steps into a place, half-storehouse half-cellar, under the mess-room. how i knew about it being there i don't know. the trap closed over my head with a bang. that is all i remember.' "'well, charley, curiously enough my dream was also about an extraordinary escape from danger, lasting, like yours, only a minute or two. the first thing i remember--there seems to have been something before, but what, i don't know--i was on horseback, holding a very pretty but awfully pale girl in front of me. we were pursued by a whole troop of sepoy cavalry, who were firing pistol-shots at us. we were not more than seventy or eighty yards in front, and they were gaining fast, just as i rode into a large deserted temple. in the center was a huge stone figure. i jumped off my horse with the lady, and as i did so she said, "blow out my brains, edward; don't let me fall into their hands." "'instead of answering, i hurried her round behind the idol, pushed against one of the leaves of a flower in the carving, and the stone swung back, and showed a hole just large enough to get through, with a stone staircase inside the body of the idol, made, no doubt, for the priest to go up and give responses through the mouth. i hurried the girl through, crept in after her, and closed the stone, just as our pursuers came clattering into the courtyard. that is all i remember.' "'well, it is monstrously rum,' charley said, after a pause. 'did you understand what the old fellow was singing about before he gave us the pipes?' "'yes; i caught the general drift. it was an entreaty to siva to give us some glimpse of futurity which might benefit us.' "we lit our cheroots and rode for some miles at a brisk canter without remark. when we were within a short distance of home we reined up. "'i feel ever so much better,' charley said. 'we have got that opium out of our heads now. how do you account for it all, harley?' "'i account for it in this way, charley. the opium naturally had the effect of making us both dream, and as we took similar doses of the same mixture, under similar circumstances, it is scarcely extraordinary that it should have effected the same portion of the brain, and caused a certain similarity in our dreams. in all nightmares something terrible happens, or is on the point of happening; and so it was here. not unnaturally in both our cases our thoughts turned to soldiers. if you remember, there was a talk at mess some little time since as to what would happen in the extremely unlikely event of the sepoys mutinying in a body. i have no doubt that was the foundation of both our dreams. it is all natural enough when we come to think it over calmly. i think, by the way, we had better agree to say nothing at all about it in the regiment.' "'i should think not,' charley said. 'we should never hear the end of it; they would chaff us out of our lives.' "we kept our secret, and came at last to laugh over it heartily when we were together. then the subject dropped, and by the end of a year had as much escaped our minds as any other dream would have done. three months after the affair the regiment was ordered down to allahabad, and the change of place no doubt helped to erase all memory of the dream. four years after we had left jubbalpore we went to beerapore. the time is very marked in my memory, because, the very week we arrived there, your aunt, then miss gardiner, came out from england, to her father, our colonel. the instant i saw her i was impressed with the idea that i knew her intimately. i recollected her face, her figure, and the very tone of her voice, but wherever i had met her i could not conceive. upon the occasion of my first introduction to her i could not help telling her that i was convinced that we had met, and asking her if she did not remember it. no, she did not remember, but very likely she might have done so, and she suggested the names of several people at whose houses we might have met. i did not know any of them. presently she asked how long i had been out in india? "'six years,' i said. "'and how old, mr. harley,' she said, 'do you take me to be?' "i saw in one instant my stupidity, and was stammering out an apology, when she went on: "'i am very little over eighteen, mr. harley, although i evidently look ever so many years older; but papa can certify to my age; so i was only twelve when you left england.' "i tried in vain to clear matters up. your aunt would insist that i took her to be forty, and the fun that my blunder made rather drew us together, and gave me a start over the other fellows at the station, half of whom fell straightway in love with her. some months went on, and when the mutiny broke out we were engaged to be married. it is a proof of how completely the opium-dreams had passed out of the minds of both simmonds and myself, that even when rumors of general disaffection among the sepoys began to be current, they never once recurred to us; and even when the news of the actual mutiny reached us we were just as confident as were the others of the fidelity of our own regiment. it was the old story, foolish confidence and black treachery. as at very many other stations, the mutiny broke out when we were at mess. our regiment was dining with the 34th bengalees. suddenly, just as dinner was over, the window was opened, and a tremendous fire poured in. four or five men fell dead at once, and the poor colonel, who was next to me, was shot right through the head. everyone rushed to his sword and drew his pistol--for we had been ordered to carry pistols as part of our uniform. i was next to charley simmonds as the sepoys of both regiments, headed by subadar pirã¡n, poured in at the windows. "'i have it now,' charley said; 'it is the scene i dreamed.' "as he spoke he fired his revolver at the subadar, who fell dead in his tracks. "a sepoy close by leveled his musket and fired. charley fell, and the fellow rushed forward to bayonet him. as he did so i sent a bullet through his head, and he fell across charley. it was a wild fight for a minute or two, and then a few of us made a sudden rush together, cut our way through the mutineers, and darted through an open window on to the parade. there were shouts, shots, and screams from the officers' bungalows, and in several places flames were already rising. what became of the other men i knew not; i made as hard as i could tear for the colonel's bungalow. suddenly i came upon a sowar sitting on his horse watching the rising flames. before he saw me i was on him, and ran him through. i leapt on his horse and galloped down to gardiner's compound. i saw lots of sepoys in and around the bungalow, all engaged in looting. i dashed into the compound. "'may! may!' i shouted. 'where are you?' "i had scarcely spoken before a dark figure rushed out of a clump of bushes close by with a scream of delight. "in an instant she was on the horse before me, and, shooting down a couple of fellows who made a rush at my reins, i dashed out again. stray shots were fired after us. but fortunately the sepoys were all busy looting, most of them had laid down their muskets, and no one really took up the pursuit. i turned off from the parade-ground, dashed down between the hedges of two compounds, and in another minute we were in the open country. "fortunately, the cavalry were all down looting their own lines, or we must have been overtaken at once. may happily had fainted as i lifted her on to my horse--happily, because the fearful screams that we heard from the various bungalows almost drove me mad, and would probably have killed her, for the poor ladies were all her intimate friends. "i rode on for some hours, till i felt quite safe from any immediate pursuit, and then we halted in the shelter of a clump of trees. "by this time i had heard may's story. she had felt uneasy at being alone, but had laughed at herself for being so, until upon her speaking to one of the servants he had answered in a tone of gross insolence, which had astonished her. she at once guessed that there was danger, and the moment that she was alone caught up a large, dark carriage rug, wrapped it round her so as to conceal her white dress, and stole out into the veranda. the night was dark, and scarcely had she left the house than she heard a burst of firing across at the mess-house. she at once ran in among the bushes and crouched there, as she heard the rush of men into the room she had just left. she heard them searching for her, but they were looking for a white dress, and her dark rug saved her. what she must have suffered in the five minutes between the firing of the first shots and my arrival, she only knows. may had spoken but very little since we started. i believe that she was certain that her father was dead, although i had given an evasive answer when she asked me; and her terrible sense of loss, added to the horror of that time of suspense in the garden, had completely stunned her. we waited in the tope until the afternoon, and then set out again. "we had gone but a short distance when we saw a body of the rebel cavalry in pursuit. they had no doubt been scouring the country generally, and the discovery was accidental. for a short time we kept away from them, but this could not be for long, as our horse was carrying double. i made for a sort of ruin i saw at the foot of a hill half a mile away. i did so with no idea of the possibility of concealment. my intention was simply to get my back to a rock and to sell my life as dearly as i could, keeping the last two barrels of the revolver for ourselves. certainly no remembrance of my dream influenced me in any way, and in the wild whirl of excitement i had not given a second thought to charley simmonds' exclamation. as we rode up to the ruins only a hundred yards ahead of us, may said: "'blow out my brains, edward; don't let me fall alive into their hands.' "a shock of remembrance shot across me. the chase, her pale face, the words, the temple--all my dream rushed into my mind. "'we are saved,' i cried, to her amazement, as we rode into the courtyard, in whose center a great figure was sitting. "i leapt from the horse, snatched the mussuk of water from the saddle, and then hurried may round the idol, between which and the rock behind there was but just room to get along. "not a doubt entered my mind but that i should find the spring as i had dreamed. sure enough there was the carving, fresh upon my memory as if i had seen it but the day before. i placed my hand on the leaflet without hesitation, a solid stone moved back, i hurried my amazed companion in, and shut to the stone. i found, and shot to, a massive bolt, evidently placed to prevent the door being opened by accident or design when anyone was in the idol. "at first it seemed quite dark, but a faint light streamed in from above; we made our way up the stairs, and found that the light came through a number of small holes pierced in the upper part of the head, and through still smaller holes lower down, not much larger than a good-sized knitting-needle could pass through. these holes, we afterwards found, were in the ornaments round the idol's neck. the holes enlarged inside, and enabled us to have a view all round. "the mutineers were furious at our disappearance, and for hours searched about. then, saying that we must be hidden somewhere, and that they would wait till we came out, they proceeded to bivouac in the courtyard of the temple. "we passed four terrible days, but on the morning of the fifth a scout came in to tell the rebels that a column of british troops marching on delhi would pass close by the temple. they therefore hastily mounted and galloped off. "three-quarters of an hour later we were safe among our own people. a fortnight afterwards your aunt and i were married. it was no time for ceremony then; there were no means of sending her away; no place where she could have waited until the time for her mourning for her father was over. so we were married quietly by one of the chaplains of the troops, and, as your story-books say, have lived very happily ever after." "and how about mr. simmonds, uncle? did he get safe off too?" "yes, his dream came as vividly to his mind as mine had done. he crawled to the place where he knew the trapdoor would be, and got into the cellar. fortunately for him there were plenty of eatables there, and he lived there in concealment for a fortnight. after that he crawled out, and found the mutineers had marched for delhi. he went through a lot, but at last joined us before that city. we often talked over our dreams together, and there was no question that we owed our lives to them. even then we did not talk much to other people about them, for there would have been a lot of talk, and inquiry, and questions, and you know fellows hate that sort of thing. so we held our tongues. poor charley's silence was sealed a year later at lucknow, for on the advance with lord clyde he was killed. "and now, boys and girls, you must run off to bed. five minutes more and it will be christmas day. so you see, frank, that although i don't believe in ghosts, i have yet met with a circumstance which i cannot account for." "it is very curious anyhow, uncle, and beats ghost stories into fits." "i like it better, certainly," one of the girls said, "for we can go to bed without being afraid of dreaming about it." "well, you must not talk any more now. off to bed, off to bed," colonel harley said, "or i shall get into terrible disgrace with your fathers and mothers, who have been looking very gravely at me for the last three-quarters of an hour." * * * * * transcriber's note: a second story, a pipe of mystery, appears after the end of guy in the jungle in the publication of the book from which this transcription has been made. the page numbering does not continue from the first story, indicating that perhaps plates from a different book may have been used, possibly from "among malay pirates--a tale of adventure and peril" by g. a. henty, published also by m. a. donohue & company. the words "weazened" and "dhoolie", alternative spelling for burnous/burnouse, and alternative hyphenation in today/to-day and eggshell/egg-shell have been retained as they appear in the original publication. changes have been made as follows: page 3 copyrighted 1890 _changed to_ copyrighted 1890, page 7 to old friends, and, to attend to _changed to_ to old friends, and to attend to page 9 and to distingussh, if possible, _changed to_ and to distinguish, if possible, page 10 is a remarkably fine day, sir," _changed to_ is a remarkably fine day, sir." page 11 "well, mr. torres" he said _changed to_ "well, mr. torres," he said page 12 but my name in chutney." _changed to_ but my name is chutney." page 18 gold-dust,aromatic spices, _changed to_ gold-dust, aromatic spices, page 21 while the blood dripped down frrm _changed to_ while the blood dripped down from page 31 we proced to zaila _changed to_ we proceed to zaila page 36 and were delayed by an acident _changed to_ and were delayed by an accident page 42 but no hostile demnostration was _changed to_ but no hostile demonstration was page 45 kakar's investing this bloody outbreak _changed to_ makar's investing this bloody outbreak page 46 who suddenly appearedover the sand,hills _changed to_ who suddenly appeared over the sand-hills page 49 and markar is his servant. _changed to_ and makar is his servant." know what was coming _changed to_ knew what was coming page 50 prayers would aiike be _changed to_ prayers would alike be page 53 in the original publication, the following paragraph appeared as: the caravan was now ready to start. at the last filed at a slow trot over the sandy plain in a southerly minute makar makalo passed carelessly by guy and whispered, "keep good heart. makar no forget." then he vanished in the crowd, and, with a loud cheer to speed them on their way, the line of camels direction. and has been _changed to_: the caravan was now ready to start. at the last minute makar makalo passed carelessly by guy and whispered, "keep good heart. makar no forget." then he vanished in the crowd, and, with a loud cheer to speed them on their way, the line of camels filed at a slow trot over the sandy plain in a southerly direction. page 55 layind hold of sir arthur _changed to_ laying hold of sir arthur page 61 with, hatred that fanaticism alone _changed to_ with hatred that fanaticism alone page 71 resisting the invaders., _changed to_ resisting the invaders. page 106 we'll be out of reach of these fiends. ages." _changed to_ we'll be out of reach of these fiends." page 112 arican sun had gone down _changed to_ african sun had gone down page 128 "we have found it?" _changed to_ "we have found it!" snatched from sight immediately _changed to_ snatched from sight immediately. page 129 where shall ge get more _changed to_ where shall we get more page 134 must we starve, then" _changed to_ must we starve, then?" page 136 makaol at zaila _changed to_ makalo at zaila page 141 declaration had it seffect _changed to_ declaration had its effect page 156 groaned sir arthus _changed to_ groaned sir arthur page 174 peaceful montony of the colonel's record _changed to_ peaceful monotony of the colonel's record page 183 "melton's hearing was unusually _changed to_ melton's hearing was unusually page 226 melton huried off at once _changed to_ melton hurried off at once page 243 "oh,' says young ormsby _changed to_ "'oh,' says young ormsby page 253 i see a cavern, _changed to_ "i see a cavern, page 263 hold out a little longer. "i _changed to_ hold out a little longer. i page 292 and was conveyed by them to makar makolo _changed to_ and was conveyed by them to makar makalo page 293 mombagolo, the burman _changed to_ mombagolo, the burman page 213 in the second story, a pipe of mystery half-storehouse half cellar, _changed to_ half-storehouse half-cellar, jungle tales of tarzan by edgar rice burroughs contents chapter 1 tarzan's first love 2 the capture of tarzan 3 the fight for the balu 4 the god of tarzan 5 tarzan and the black boy 6 the witch-doctor seeks vengeance 7 the end of bukawai 8 the lion 9 the nightmare 10 the battle for teeka 11 a jungle joke 12 tarzan rescues the moon 1 tarzan's first love teeka, stretched at luxurious ease in the shade of the tropical forest, presented, unquestionably, a most alluring picture of young, feminine loveliness. or at least so thought tarzan of the apes, who squatted upon a low-swinging branch in a near-by tree and looked down upon her. just to have seen him there, lolling upon the swaying bough of the jungle-forest giant, his brown skin mottled by the brilliant equatorial sunlight which percolated through the leafy canopy of green above him, his clean-limbed body relaxed in graceful ease, his shapely head partly turned in contemplative absorption and his intelligent, gray eyes dreamily devouring the object of their devotion, you would have thought him the reincarnation of some demigod of old. you would not have guessed that in infancy he had suckled at the breast of a hideous, hairy she-ape, nor that in all his conscious past since his parents had passed away in the little cabin by the landlocked harbor at the jungle's verge, he had known no other associates than the sullen bulls and the snarling cows of the tribe of kerchak, the great ape. nor, could you have read the thoughts which passed through that active, healthy brain, the longings and desires and aspirations which the sight of teeka inspired, would you have been any more inclined to give credence to the reality of the origin of the ape-man. for, from his thoughts alone, you could never have gleaned the truth--that he had been born to a gentle english lady or that his sire had been an english nobleman of time-honored lineage. lost to tarzan of the apes was the truth of his origin. that he was john clayton, lord greystoke, with a seat in the house of lords, he did not know, nor, knowing, would have understood. yes, teeka was indeed beautiful! of course kala had been beautiful--one's mother is always that--but teeka was beautiful in a way all her own, an indescribable sort of way which tarzan was just beginning to sense in a rather vague and hazy manner. for years had tarzan and teeka been play-fellows, and teeka still continued to be playful while the young bulls of her own age were rapidly becoming surly and morose. tarzan, if he gave the matter much thought at all, probably reasoned that his growing attachment for the young female could be easily accounted for by the fact that of the former playmates she and he alone retained any desire to frolic as of old. but today, as he sat gazing upon her, he found himself noting the beauties of teeka's form and features--something he never had done before, since none of them had aught to do with teeka's ability to race nimbly through the lower terraces of the forest in the primitive games of tag and hide-and-go-seek which tarzan's fertile brain evolved. tarzan scratched his head, running his fingers deep into the shock of black hair which framed his shapely, boyish face--he scratched his head and sighed. teeka's new-found beauty became as suddenly his despair. he envied her the handsome coat of hair which covered her body. his own smooth, brown hide he hated with a hatred born of disgust and contempt. years back he had harbored a hope that some day he, too, would be clothed in hair as were all his brothers and sisters; but of late he had been forced to abandon the delectable dream. then there were teeka's great teeth, not so large as the males, of course, but still mighty, handsome things by comparison with tarzan's feeble white ones. and her beetling brows, and broad, flat nose, and her mouth! tarzan had often practiced making his mouth into a little round circle and then puffing out his cheeks while he winked his eyes rapidly; but he felt that he could never do it in the same cute and irresistible way in which teeka did it. and as he watched her that afternoon, and wondered, a young bull ape who had been lazily foraging for food beneath the damp, matted carpet of decaying vegetation at the roots of a near-by tree lumbered awkwardly in teeka's direction. the other apes of the tribe of kerchak moved listlessly about or lolled restfully in the midday heat of the equatorial jungle. from time to time one or another of them had passed close to teeka, and tarzan had been uninterested. why was it then that his brows contracted and his muscles tensed as he saw taug pause beside the young she and then squat down close to her? tarzan always had liked taug. since childhood they had romped together. side by side they had squatted near the water, their quick, strong fingers ready to leap forth and seize pisah, the fish, should that wary denizen of the cool depths dart surfaceward to the lure of the insects tarzan tossed upon the face of the pool. together they had baited tublat and teased numa, the lion. why, then, should tarzan feel the rise of the short hairs at the nape of his neck merely because taug sat close to teeka? it is true that taug was no longer the frolicsome ape of yesterday. when his snarling-muscles bared his giant fangs no one could longer imagine that taug was in as playful a mood as when he and tarzan had rolled upon the turf in mimic battle. the taug of today was a huge, sullen bull ape, somber and forbidding. yet he and tarzan never had quarreled. for a few minutes the young ape-man watched taug press closer to teeka. he saw the rough caress of the huge paw as it stroked the sleek shoulder of the she, and then tarzan of the apes slipped catlike to the ground and approached the two. as he came his upper lip curled into a snarl, exposing his fighting fangs, and a deep growl rumbled from his cavernous chest. taug looked up, batting his blood-shot eyes. teeka half raised herself and looked at tarzan. did she guess the cause of his perturbation? who may say? at any rate, she was feminine, and so she reached up and scratched taug behind one of his small, flat ears. tarzan saw, and in the instant that he saw, teeka was no longer the little playmate of an hour ago; instead she was a wondrous thing--the most wondrous in the world--and a possession for which tarzan would fight to the death against taug or any other who dared question his right of proprietorship. stooped, his muscles rigid and one great shoulder turned toward the young bull, tarzan of the apes sidled nearer and nearer. his face was partly averted, but his keen gray eyes never left those of taug, and as he came, his growls increased in depth and volume. taug rose upon his short legs, bristling. his fighting fangs were bared. he, too, sidled, stiff-legged, and growled. "teeka is tarzan's," said the ape-man, in the low gutturals of the great anthropoids. "teeka is taug's," replied the bull ape. thaka and numgo and gunto, disturbed by the growlings of the two young bulls, looked up half apathetic, half interested. they were sleepy, but they sensed a fight. it would break the monotony of the humdrum jungle life they led. coiled about his shoulders was tarzan's long grass rope, in his hand was the hunting knife of the long-dead father he had never known. in taug's little brain lay a great respect for the shiny bit of sharp metal which the ape-boy knew so well how to use. with it had he slain tublat, his fierce foster father, and bolgani, the gorilla. taug knew these things, and so he came warily, circling about tarzan in search of an opening. the latter, made cautious because of his lesser bulk and the inferiority of his natural armament, followed similar tactics. for a time it seemed that the altercation would follow the way of the majority of such differences between members of the tribe and that one of them would finally lose interest and wander off to prosecute some other line of endeavor. such might have been the end of it had the casus belli been other than it was; but teeka was flattered at the attention that was being drawn to her and by the fact that these two young bulls were contemplating battle on her account. such a thing never before had occurred in teeka's brief life. she had seen other bulls battling for other and older shes, and in the depth of her wild little heart she had longed for the day when the jungle grasses would be reddened with the blood of mortal combat for her fair sake. so now she squatted upon her haunches and insulted both her admirers impartially. she hurled taunts at them for their cowardice, and called them vile names, such as histah, the snake, and dango, the hyena. she threatened to call mumga to chastise them with a stick--mumga, who was so old that she could no longer climb and so toothless that she was forced to confine her diet almost exclusively to bananas and grub-worms. the apes who were watching heard and laughed. taug was infuriated. he made a sudden lunge for tarzan, but the ape-boy leaped nimbly to one side, eluding him, and with the quickness of a cat wheeled and leaped back again to close quarters. his hunting knife was raised above his head as he came in, and he aimed a vicious blow at taug's neck. the ape wheeled to dodge the weapon so that the keen blade struck him but a glancing blow upon the shoulder. the spurt of red blood brought a shrill cry of delight from teeka. ah, but this was something worth while! she glanced about to see if others had witnessed this evidence of her popularity. helen of troy was never one whit more proud than was teeka at that moment. if teeka had not been so absorbed in her own vaingloriousness she might have noted the rustling of leaves in the tree above her--a rustling which was not caused by any movement of the wind, since there was no wind. and had she looked up she might have seen a sleek body crouching almost directly over her and wicked yellow eyes glaring hungrily down upon her, but teeka did not look up. with his wound taug had backed off growling horribly. tarzan had followed him, screaming insults at him, and menacing him with his brandishing blade. teeka moved from beneath the tree in an effort to keep close to the duelists. the branch above teeka bent and swayed a trifle with the movement of the body of the watcher stretched along it. taug had halted now and was preparing to make a new stand. his lips were flecked with foam, and saliva drooled from his jowls. he stood with head lowered and arms outstretched, preparing for a sudden charge to close quarters. could he but lay his mighty hands upon that soft, brown skin the battle would be his. taug considered tarzan's manner of fighting unfair. he would not close. instead, he leaped nimbly just beyond the reach of taug's muscular fingers. the ape-boy had as yet never come to a real trial of strength with a bull ape, other than in play, and so he was not at all sure that it would be safe to put his muscles to the test in a life and death struggle. not that he was afraid, for tarzan knew nothing of fear. the instinct of self-preservation gave him caution--that was all. he took risks only when it seemed necessary, and then he would hesitate at nothing. his own method of fighting seemed best fitted to his build and to his armament. his teeth, while strong and sharp, were, as weapons of offense, pitifully inadequate by comparison with the mighty fighting fangs of the anthropoids. by dancing about, just out of reach of an antagonist, tarzan could do infinite injury with his long, sharp hunting knife, and at the same time escape many of the painful and dangerous wounds which would be sure to follow his falling into the clutches of a bull ape. and so taug charged and bellowed like a bull, and tarzan of the apes danced lightly to this side and that, hurling jungle billingsgate at his foe, the while he nicked him now and again with his knife. there were lulls in the fighting when the two would stand panting for breath, facing each other, mustering their wits and their forces for a new onslaught. it was during a pause such as this that taug chanced to let his eyes rove beyond his foeman. instantly the entire aspect of the ape altered. rage left his countenance to be supplanted by an expression of fear. with a cry that every ape there recognized, taug turned and fled. no need to question him--his warning proclaimed the near presence of their ancient enemy. tarzan started to seek safety, as did the other members of the tribe, and as he did so he heard a panther's scream mingled with the frightened cry of a she-ape. taug heard, too; but he did not pause in his flight. with the ape-boy, however, it was different. he looked back to see if any member of the tribe was close pressed by the beast of prey, and the sight that met his eyes filled them with an expression of horror. teeka it was who cried out in terror as she fled across a little clearing toward the trees upon the opposite side, for after her leaped sheeta, the panther, in easy, graceful bounds. sheeta appeared to be in no hurry. his meat was assured, since even though the ape reached the trees ahead of him she could not climb beyond his clutches before he could be upon her. tarzan saw that teeka must die. he cried to taug and the other bulls to hasten to teeka's assistance, and at the same time he ran toward the pursuing beast, taking down his rope as he came. tarzan knew that once the great bulls were aroused none of the jungle, not even numa, the lion, was anxious to measure fangs with them, and that if all those of the tribe who chanced to be present today would charge, sheeta, the great cat, would doubtless turn tail and run for his life. taug heard, as did the others, but no one came to tarzan's assistance or teeka's rescue, and sheeta was rapidly closing up the distance between himself and his prey. the ape-boy, leaping after the panther, cried aloud to the beast in an effort to turn it from teeka or otherwise distract its attention until the she-ape could gain the safety of the higher branches where sheeta dared not go. he called the panther every opprobrious name that fell to his tongue. he dared him to stop and do battle with him; but sheeta only loped on after the luscious titbit now almost within his reach. tarzan was not far behind and he was gaining, but the distance was so short that he scarce hoped to overhaul the carnivore before it had felled teeka. in his right hand the boy swung his grass rope above his head as he ran. he hated to chance a miss, for the distance was much greater than he ever had cast before except in practice. it was the full length of his grass rope which separated him from sheeta, and yet there was no other thing to do. he could not reach the brute's side before it overhauled teeka. he must chance a throw. and just as teeka sprang for the lower limb of a great tree, and sheeta rose behind her in a long, sinuous leap, the coils of the ape-boy's grass rope shot swiftly through the air, straightening into a long thin line as the open noose hovered for an instant above the savage head and the snarling jaws. then it settled--clean and true about the tawny neck it settled, and tarzan, with a quick twist of his rope-hand, drew the noose taut, bracing himself for the shock when sheeta should have taken up the slack. just short of teeka's glossy rump the cruel talons raked the air as the rope tightened and sheeta was brought to a sudden stop--a stop that snapped the big beast over upon his back. instantly sheeta was up--with glaring eyes, and lashing tail, and gaping jaws, from which issued hideous cries of rage and disappointment. he saw the ape-boy, the cause of his discomfiture, scarce forty feet before him, and sheeta charged. teeka was safe now; tarzan saw to that by a quick glance into the tree whose safety she had gained not an instant too soon, and sheeta was charging. it was useless to risk his life in idle and unequal combat from which no good could come; but could he escape a battle with the enraged cat? and if he was forced to fight, what chance had he to survive? tarzan was constrained to admit that his position was aught but a desirable one. the trees were too far to hope to reach in time to elude the cat. tarzan could but stand facing that hideous charge. in his right hand he grasped his hunting knife--a puny, futile thing indeed by comparison with the great rows of mighty teeth which lined sheeta's powerful jaws, and the sharp talons encased within his padded paws; yet the young lord greystoke faced it with the same courageous resignation with which some fearless ancestor went down to defeat and death on senlac hill by hastings. from safety points in the trees the great apes watched, screaming hatred at sheeta and advice at tarzan, for the progenitors of man have, naturally, many human traits. teeka was frightened. she screamed at the bulls to hasten to tarzan's assistance; but the bulls were otherwise engaged--principally in giving advice and making faces. anyway, tarzan was not a real mangani, so why should they risk their lives in an effort to protect him? and now sheeta was almost upon the lithe, naked body, and--the body was not there. quick as was the great cat, the ape-boy was quicker. he leaped to one side almost as the panther's talons were closing upon him, and as sheeta went hurtling to the ground beyond, tarzan was racing for the safety of the nearest tree. the panther recovered himself almost immediately and, wheeling, tore after his prey, the ape-boy's rope dragging along the ground behind him. in doubling back after tarzan, sheeta had passed around a low bush. it was a mere nothing in the path of any jungle creature of the size and weight of sheeta--provided it had no trailing rope dangling behind. but sheeta was handicapped by such a rope, and as he leaped once again after tarzan of the apes the rope encircled the small bush, became tangled in it and brought the panther to a sudden stop. an instant later tarzan was safe among the higher branches of a small tree into which sheeta could not follow him. here he perched, hurling twigs and epithets at the raging feline beneath him. the other members of the tribe now took up the bombardment, using such hard-shelled fruits and dead branches as came within their reach, until sheeta, goaded to frenzy and snapping at the grass rope, finally succeeded in severing its strands. for a moment the panther stood glaring first at one of his tormentors and then at another, until, with a final scream of rage, he turned and slunk off into the tangled mazes of the jungle. a half hour later the tribe was again upon the ground, feeding as though naught had occurred to interrupt the somber dullness of their lives. tarzan had recovered the greater part of his rope and was busy fashioning a new noose, while teeka squatted close behind him, in evident token that her choice was made. taug eyed them sullenly. once when he came close, teeka bared her fangs and growled at him, and tarzan showed his canines in an ugly snarl; but taug did not provoke a quarrel. he seemed to accept after the manner of his kind the decision of the she as an indication that he had been vanquished in his battle for her favors. later in the day, his rope repaired, tarzan took to the trees in search of game. more than his fellows he required meat, and so, while they were satisfied with fruits and herbs and beetles, which could be discovered without much effort upon their part, tarzan spent considerable time hunting the game animals whose flesh alone satisfied the cravings of his stomach and furnished sustenance and strength to the mighty thews which, day by day, were building beneath the soft, smooth texture of his brown hide. taug saw him depart, and then, quite casually, the big beast hunted closer and closer to teeka in his search for food. at last he was within a few feet of her, and when he shot a covert glance at her he saw that she was appraising him and that there was no evidence of anger upon her face. taug expanded his great chest and rolled about on his short legs, making strange growlings in his throat. he raised his lips, baring his fangs. my, but what great, beautiful fangs he had! teeka could not but notice them. she also let her eyes rest in admiration upon taug's beetling brows and his short, powerful neck. what a beautiful creature he was indeed! taug, flattered by the unconcealed admiration in her eyes, strutted about, as proud and as vain as a peacock. presently he began to inventory his assets, mentally, and shortly he found himself comparing them with those of his rival. taug grunted, for there was no comparison. how could one compare his beautiful coat with the smooth and naked hideousness of tarzan's bare hide? who could see beauty in the stingy nose of the tarmangani after looking at taug's broad nostrils? and tarzan's eyes! hideous things, showing white about them, and entirely unrimmed with red. taug knew that his own blood-shot eyes were beautiful, for he had seen them reflected in the glassy surface of many a drinking pool. the bull drew nearer to teeka, finally squatting close against her. when tarzan returned from his hunting a short time later it was to see teeka contentedly scratching the back of his rival. tarzan was disgusted. neither taug nor teeka saw him as he swung through the trees into the glade. he paused a moment, looking at them; then, with a sorrowful grimace, he turned and faded away into the labyrinth of leafy boughs and festooned moss out of which he had come. tarzan wished to be as far away from the cause of his heartache as he could. he was suffering the first pangs of blighted love, and he didn't quite know what was the matter with him. he thought that he was angry with taug, and so he couldn't understand why it was that he had run away instead of rushing into mortal combat with the destroyer of his happiness. he also thought that he was angry with teeka, yet a vision of her many beauties persisted in haunting him, so that he could only see her in the light of love as the most desirable thing in the world. the ape-boy craved affection. from babyhood until the time of her death, when the poisoned arrow of kulonga had pierced her savage heart, kala had represented to the english boy the sole object of love which he had known. in her wild, fierce way kala had loved her adopted son, and tarzan had returned that love, though the outward demonstrations of it were no greater than might have been expected from any other beast of the jungle. it was not until he was bereft of her that the boy realized how deep had been his attachment for his mother, for as such he looked upon her. in teeka he had seen within the past few hours a substitute for kala--someone to fight for and to hunt for--someone to caress; but now his dream was shattered. something hurt within his breast. he placed his hand over his heart and wondered what had happened to him. vaguely he attributed his pain to teeka. the more he thought of teeka as he had last seen her, caressing taug, the more the thing within his breast hurt him. tarzan shook his head and growled; then on and on through the jungle he swung, and the farther he traveled and the more he thought upon his wrongs, the nearer he approached becoming an irreclaimable misogynist. two days later he was still hunting alone--very morose and very unhappy; but he was determined never to return to the tribe. he could not bear the thought of seeing taug and teeka always together. as he swung upon a great limb numa, the lion, and sabor, the lioness, passed beneath him, side by side, and sabor leaned against the lion and bit playfully at his cheek. it was a half-caress. tarzan sighed and hurled a nut at them. later he came upon several of mbonga's black warriors. he was upon the point of dropping his noose about the neck of one of them, who was a little distance from his companions, when he became interested in the thing which occupied the savages. they were building a cage in the trail and covering it with leafy branches. when they had completed their work the structure was scarcely visible. tarzan wondered what the purpose of the thing might be, and why, when they had built it, they turned away and started back along the trail in the direction of their village. it had been some time since tarzan had visited the blacks and looked down from the shelter of the great trees which overhung their palisade upon the activities of his enemies, from among whom had come the slayer of kala. although he hated them, tarzan derived considerable entertainment in watching them at their daily life within the village, and especially at their dances, when the fires glared against their naked bodies as they leaped and turned and twisted in mimic warfare. it was rather in the hope of witnessing something of the kind that he now followed the warriors back toward their village, but in this he was disappointed, for there was no dance that night. instead, from the safe concealment of his tree, tarzan saw little groups seated about tiny fires discussing the events of the day, and in the darker corners of the village he descried isolated couples talking and laughing together, and always one of each couple was a young man and the other a young woman. tarzan cocked his head upon one side and thought, and before he went to sleep that night, curled in the crotch of the great tree above the village, teeka filled his mind, and afterward she filled his dreams--she and the young black men laughing and talking with the young black women. taug, hunting alone, had wandered some distance from the balance of the tribe. he was making his way slowly along an elephant path when he discovered that it was blocked with undergrowth. now taug, come into maturity, was an evil-natured brute of an exceeding short temper. when something thwarted him, his sole idea was to overcome it by brute strength and ferocity, and so now when he found his way blocked, he tore angrily into the leafy screen and an instant later found himself within a strange lair, his progress effectually blocked, notwithstanding his most violent efforts to forge ahead. biting and striking at the barrier, taug finally worked himself into a frightful rage, but all to no avail; and at last he became convinced that he must turn back. but when he would have done so, what was his chagrin to discover that another barrier had dropped behind him while he fought to break down the one before him! taug was trapped. until exhaustion overcame him he fought frantically for his freedom; but all for naught. in the morning a party of blacks set out from the village of mbonga in the direction of the trap they had constructed the previous day, while among the branches of the trees above them hovered a naked young giant filled with the curiosity of the wild things. manu, the monkey, chattered and scolded as tarzan passed, and though he was not afraid of the familiar figure of the ape-boy, he hugged closer to him the little brown body of his life's companion. tarzan laughed as he saw it; but the laugh was followed by a sudden clouding of his face and a deep sigh. a little farther on, a gaily feathered bird strutted about before the admiring eyes of his somber-hued mate. it seemed to tarzan that everything in the jungle was combining to remind him that he had lost teeka; yet every day of his life he had seen these same things and thought nothing of them. when the blacks reached the trap, taug set up a great commotion. seizing the bars of his prison, he shook them frantically, and all the while he roared and growled terrifically. the blacks were elated, for while they had not built their trap for this hairy tree man, they were delighted with their catch. tarzan pricked up his ears when he heard the voice of a great ape and, circling quickly until he was down wind from the trap, he sniffed at the air in search of the scent spoor of the prisoner. nor was it long before there came to those delicate nostrils the familiar odor that told tarzan the identity of the captive as unerringly as though he had looked upon taug with his eyes. yes, it was taug, and he was alone. tarzan grinned as he approached to discover what the blacks would do to their prisoner. doubtless they would slay him at once. again tarzan grinned. now he could have teeka for his own, with none to dispute his right to her. as he watched, he saw the black warriors strip the screen from about the cage, fasten ropes to it and drag it away along the trail in the direction of their village. tarzan watched until his rival passed out of sight, still beating upon the bars of his prison and growling out his anger and his threats. then the ape-boy turned and swung rapidly off in search of the tribe, and teeka. once, upon the journey, he surprised sheeta and his family in a little overgrown clearing. the great cat lay stretched upon the ground, while his mate, one paw across her lord's savage face, licked at the soft white fur at his throat. tarzan increased his speed then until he fairly flew through the forest, nor was it long before he came upon the tribe. he saw them before they saw him, for of all the jungle creatures, none passed more quietly than tarzan of the apes. he saw kamma and her mate feeding side by side, their hairy bodies rubbing against each other. and he saw teeka feeding by herself. not for long would she feed thus in loneliness, thought tarzan, as with a bound he landed amongst them. there was a startled rush and a chorus of angry and frightened snarls, for tarzan had surprised them; but there was more, too, than mere nervous shock to account for the bristling neck hair which remained standing long after the apes had discovered the identity of the newcomer. tarzan noticed this as he had noticed it many times in the past--that always his sudden coming among them left them nervous and unstrung for a considerable time, and that they one and all found it necessary to satisfy themselves that he was indeed tarzan by smelling about him a half dozen or more times before they calmed down. pushing through them, he made his way toward teeka; but as he approached her the ape drew away. "teeka," he said, "it is tarzan. you belong to tarzan. i have come for you." the ape drew closer, looking him over carefully. finally she sniffed at him, as though to make assurance doubly sure. "where is taug?" she asked. "the gomangani have him," replied tarzan. "they will kill him." in the eyes of the she, tarzan saw a wistful expression and a troubled look of sorrow as he told her of taug's fate; but she came quite close and snuggled against him, and tarzan, lord greystoke, put his arm about her. as he did so he noticed, with a start, the strange incongruity of that smooth, brown arm against the black and hairy coat of his lady-love. he recalled the paw of sheeta's mate across sheeta's face--no incongruity there. he thought of little manu hugging his she, and how the one seemed to belong to the other. even the proud male bird, with his gay plumage, bore a close resemblance to his quieter spouse, while numa, but for his shaggy mane, was almost a counterpart of sabor, the lioness. the males and the females differed, it was true; but not with such differences as existed between tarzan and teeka. tarzan was puzzled. there was something wrong. his arm dropped from the shoulder of teeka. very slowly he drew away from her. she looked at him with her head cocked upon one side. tarzan rose to his full height and beat upon his breast with his fists. he raised his head toward the heavens and opened his mouth. from the depths of his lungs rose the fierce, weird challenge of the victorious bull ape. the tribe turned curiously to eye him. he had killed nothing, nor was there any antagonist to be goaded to madness by the savage scream. no, there was no excuse for it, and they turned back to their feeding, but with an eye upon the ape-man lest he be preparing to suddenly run amuck. as they watched him they saw him swing into a near-by tree and disappear from sight. then they forgot him, even teeka. mbonga's black warriors, sweating beneath their strenuous task, and resting often, made slow progress toward their village. always the savage beast in the primitive cage growled and roared when they moved him. he beat upon the bars and slavered at the mouth. his noise was hideous. they had almost completed their journey and were making their final rest before forging ahead to gain the clearing in which lay their village. a few more minutes would have taken them out of the forest, and then, doubtless, the thing would not have happened which did happen. a silent figure moved through the trees above them. keen eyes inspected the cage and counted the number of warriors. an alert and daring brain figured upon the chances of success when a certain plan should be put to the test. tarzan watched the blacks lolling in the shade. they were exhausted. already several of them slept. he crept closer, pausing just above them. not a leaf rustled before his stealthy advance. he waited in the infinite patience of the beast of prey. presently but two of the warriors remained awake, and one of these was dozing. tarzan of the apes gathered himself, and as he did so the black who did not sleep arose and passed around to the rear of the cage. the ape-boy followed just above his head. taug was eyeing the warrior and emitting low growls. tarzan feared that the anthropoid would awaken the sleepers. in a whisper which was inaudible to the ears of the negro, tarzan whispered taug's name, cautioning the ape to silence, and taug's growling ceased. the black approached the rear of the cage and examined the fastenings of the door, and as he stood there the beast above him launched itself from the tree full upon his back. steel fingers circled his throat, choking the cry which sprang to the lips of the terrified man. strong teeth fastened themselves in his shoulder, and powerful legs wound themselves about his torso. the black in a frenzy of terror tried to dislodge the silent thing which clung to him. he threw himself to the ground and rolled about; but still those mighty fingers closed more and more tightly their deadly grip. the man's mouth gaped wide, his swollen tongue protruded, his eyes started from their sockets; but the relentless fingers only increased their pressure. taug was a silent witness of the struggle. in his fierce little brain he doubtless wondered what purpose prompted tarzan to attack the black. taug had not forgotten his recent battle with the ape-boy, nor the cause of it. now he saw the form of the gomangani suddenly go limp. there was a convulsive shiver and the man lay still. tarzan sprang from his prey and ran to the door of the cage. with nimble fingers he worked rapidly at the thongs which held the door in place. taug could only watch--he could not help. presently tarzan pushed the thing up a couple of feet and taug crawled out. the ape would have turned upon the sleeping blacks that he might wreak his pent vengeance; but tarzan would not permit it. instead, the ape-boy dragged the body of the black within the cage and propped it against the side bars. then he lowered the door and made fast the thongs as they had been before. a happy smile lighted his features as he worked, for one of his principal diversions was the baiting of the blacks of mbonga's village. he could imagine their terror when they awoke and found the dead body of their comrade fast in the cage where they had left the great ape safely secured but a few minutes before. tarzan and taug took to the trees together, the shaggy coat of the fierce ape brushing the sleek skin of the english lordling as they passed through the primeval jungle side by side. "go back to teeka," said tarzan. "she is yours. tarzan does not want her." "tarzan has found another she?" asked taug. the ape-boy shrugged. "for the gomangani there is another gomangani," he said; "for numa, the lion, there is sabor, the lioness; for sheeta there is a she of his own kind; for bara, the deer; for manu, the monkey; for all the beasts and the birds of the jungle is there a mate. only for tarzan of the apes is there none. taug is an ape. teeka is an ape. go back to teeka. tarzan is a man. he will go alone." 2 the capture of tarzan the black warriors labored in the humid heat of the jungle's stifling shade. with war spears they loosened the thick, black loam and the deep layers of rotting vegetation. with heavy-nailed fingers they scooped away the disintegrated earth from the center of the age-old game trail. often they ceased their labors to squat, resting and gossiping, with much laughter, at the edge of the pit they were digging. against the boles of near-by trees leaned their long, oval shields of thick buffalo hide, and the spears of those who were doing the scooping. sweat glistened upon their smooth, ebon skins, beneath which rolled rounded muscles, supple in the perfection of nature's uncontaminated health. a reed buck, stepping warily along the trail toward water, halted as a burst of laughter broke upon his startled ears. for a moment he stood statuesque but for his sensitively dilating nostrils; then he wheeled and fled noiselessly from the terrifying presence of man. a hundred yards away, deep in the tangle of impenetrable jungle, numa, the lion, raised his massive head. numa had dined well until almost daybreak and it had required much noise to awaken him. now he lifted his muzzle and sniffed the air, caught the acrid scent spoor of the reed buck and the heavy scent of man. but numa was well filled. with a low, disgusted grunt he rose and slunk away. brilliantly plumaged birds with raucous voices darted from tree to tree. little monkeys, chattering and scolding, swung through the swaying limbs above the black warriors. yet they were alone, for the teeming jungle with all its myriad life, like the swarming streets of a great metropolis, is one of the loneliest spots in god's great universe. but were they alone? above them, lightly balanced upon a leafy tree limb, a gray-eyed youth watched with eager intentness their every move. the fire of hate, restrained, smoldered beneath the lad's evident desire to know the purpose of the black men's labors. such a one as these it was who had slain his beloved kala. for them there could be naught but enmity, yet he liked well to watch them, avid as he was for greater knowledge of the ways of man. he saw the pit grow in depth until a great hole yawned the width of the trail--a hole which was amply large enough to hold at one time all of the six excavators. tarzan could not guess the purpose of so great a labor. and when they cut long stakes, sharpened at their upper ends, and set them at intervals upright in the bottom of the pit, his wonderment but increased, nor was it satisfied with the placing of the light cross-poles over the pit, or the careful arrangement of leaves and earth which completely hid from view the work the black men had performed. when they were done they surveyed their handiwork with evident satisfaction, and tarzan surveyed it, too. even to his practiced eye there remained scarce a vestige of evidence that the ancient game trail had been tampered with in any way. so absorbed was the ape-man in speculation as to the purpose of the covered pit that he permitted the blacks to depart in the direction of their village without the usual baiting which had rendered him the terror of mbonga's people and had afforded tarzan both a vehicle of revenge and a source of inexhaustible delight. puzzle as he would, however, he could not solve the mystery of the concealed pit, for the ways of the blacks were still strange ways to tarzan. they had entered his jungle but a short time before--the first of their kind to encroach upon the age-old supremacy of the beasts which laired there. to numa, the lion, to tantor, the elephant, to the great apes and the lesser apes, to each and all of the myriad creatures of this savage wild, the ways of man were new. they had much to learn of these black, hairless creatures that walked erect upon their hind paws--and they were learning it slowly, and always to their sorrow. shortly after the blacks had departed, tarzan swung easily to the trail. sniffing suspiciously, he circled the edge of the pit. squatting upon his haunches, he scraped away a little earth to expose one of the cross-bars. he sniffed at this, touched it, cocked his head upon one side, and contemplated it gravely for several minutes. then he carefully re-covered it, arranging the earth as neatly as had the blacks. this done, he swung himself back among the branches of the trees and moved off in search of his hairy fellows, the great apes of the tribe of kerchak. once he crossed the trail of numa, the lion, pausing for a moment to hurl a soft fruit at the snarling face of his enemy, and to taunt and insult him, calling him eater of carrion and brother of dango, the hyena. numa, his yellow-green eyes round and burning with concentrated hate, glared up at the dancing figure above him. low growls vibrated his heavy jowls and his great rage transmitted to his sinuous tail a sharp, whiplike motion; but realizing from past experience the futility of long distance argument with the ape-man, he turned presently and struck off into the tangled vegetation which hid him from the view of his tormentor. with a final scream of jungle invective and an apelike grimace at his departing foe, tarzan continued along his way. another mile and a shifting wind brought to his keen nostrils a familiar, pungent odor close at hand, and a moment later there loomed beneath him a huge, gray-black bulk forging steadily along the jungle trail. tarzan seized and broke a small tree limb, and at the sudden cracking sound the ponderous figure halted. great ears were thrown forward, and a long, supple trunk rose quickly to wave to and fro in search of the scent of an enemy, while two weak, little eyes peered suspiciously and futilely about in quest of the author of the noise which had disturbed his peaceful way. tarzan laughed aloud and came closer above the head of the pachyderm. "tantor! tantor!" he cried. "bara, the deer, is less fearful than you--you, tantor, the elephant, greatest of the jungle folk with the strength of as many numas as i have toes upon my feet and fingers upon my hands. tantor, who can uproot great trees, trembles with fear at the sound of a broken twig." a rumbling noise, which might have been either a sign of contempt or a sigh of relief, was tantor's only reply as the uplifted trunk and ears came down and the beast's tail dropped to normal; but his eyes still roved about in search of tarzan. he was not long kept in suspense, however, as to the whereabouts of the ape-man, for a second later the youth dropped lightly to the broad head of his old friend. then stretching himself at full length, he drummed with his bare toes upon the thick hide, and as his fingers scratched the more tender surfaces beneath the great ears, he talked to tantor of the gossip of the jungle as though the great beast understood every word that he said. much there was which tarzan could make tantor understand, and though the small talk of the wild was beyond the great, gray dreadnaught of the jungle, he stood with blinking eyes and gently swaying trunk as though drinking in every word of it with keenest appreciation. as a matter of fact it was the pleasant, friendly voice and caressing hands behind his ears which he enjoyed, and the close proximity of him whom he had often borne upon his back since tarzan, as a little child, had once fearlessly approached the great bull, assuming upon the part of the pachyderm the same friendliness which filled his own heart. in the years of their association tarzan had discovered that he possessed an inexplicable power to govern and direct his mighty friend. at his bidding, tantor would come from a great distance--as far as his keen ears could detect the shrill and piercing summons of the ape-man--and when tarzan was squatted upon his head, tantor would lumber through the jungle in any direction which his rider bade him go. it was the power of the man-mind over that of the brute and it was just as effective as though both fully understood its origin, though neither did. for half an hour tarzan sprawled there upon tantor's back. time had no meaning for either of them. life, as they saw it, consisted principally in keeping their stomachs filled. to tarzan this was a less arduous labor than to tantor, for tarzan's stomach was smaller, and being omnivorous, food was less difficult to obtain. if one sort did not come readily to hand, there were always many others to satisfy his hunger. he was less particular as to his diet than tantor, who would eat only the bark of certain trees, and the wood of others, while a third appealed to him only through its leaves, and these, perhaps, just at certain seasons of the year. tantor must needs spend the better part of his life in filling his immense stomach against the needs of his mighty thews. it is thus with all the lower orders--their lives are so occupied either with searching for food or with the processes of digestion that they have little time for other considerations. doubtless it is this handicap which has kept them from advancing as rapidly as man, who has more time to give to thought upon other matters. however, these questions troubled tarzan but little, and tantor not at all. what the former knew was that he was happy in the companionship of the elephant. he did not know why. he did not know that because he was a human being--a normal, healthy human being--he craved some living thing upon which to lavish his affection. his childhood playmates among the apes of kerchak were now great, sullen brutes. they felt nor inspired but little affection. the younger apes tarzan still played with occasionally. in his savage way he loved them; but they were far from satisfying or restful companions. tantor was a great mountain of calm, of poise, of stability. it was restful and satisfying to sprawl upon his rough pate and pour one's vague hopes and aspirations into the great ears which flapped ponderously to and fro in apparent understanding. of all the jungle folk, tantor commanded tarzan's greatest love since kala had been taken from him. sometimes tarzan wondered if tantor reciprocated his affection. it was difficult to know. it was the call of the stomach--the most compelling and insistent call which the jungle knows--that took tarzan finally back to the trees and off in search of food, while tantor continued his interrupted journey in the opposite direction. for an hour the ape-man foraged. a lofty nest yielded its fresh, warm harvest. fruits, berries, and tender plantain found a place upon his menu in the order that he happened upon them, for he did not seek such foods. meat, meat, meat! it was always meat that tarzan of the apes hunted; but sometimes meat eluded him, as today. and as he roamed the jungle his active mind busied itself not alone with his hunting, but with many other subjects. he had a habit of recalling often the events of the preceding days and hours. he lived over his visit with tantor; he cogitated upon the digging blacks and the strange, covered pit they had left behind them. he wondered again and again what its purpose might be. he compared perceptions and arrived at judgments. he compared judgments, reaching conclusions--not always correct ones, it is true, but at least he used his brain for the purpose god intended it, which was the less difficult because he was not handicapped by the second-hand, and usually erroneous, judgment of others. and as he puzzled over the covered pit, there loomed suddenly before his mental vision a huge, gray-black bulk which lumbered ponderously along a jungle trail. instantly tarzan tensed to the shock of a sudden fear. decision and action usually occurred simultaneously in the life of the ape-man, and now he was away through the leafy branches ere the realization of the pit's purpose had scarce formed in his mind. swinging from swaying limb to swaying limb, he raced through the middle terraces where the trees grew close together. again he dropped to the ground and sped, silently and light of foot, over the carpet of decaying vegetation, only to leap again into the trees where the tangled undergrowth precluded rapid advance upon the surface. in his anxiety he cast discretion to the winds. the caution of the beast was lost in the loyalty of the man, and so it came that he entered a large clearing, denuded of trees, without a thought of what might lie there or upon the farther edge to dispute the way with him. he was half way across when directly in his path and but a few yards away there rose from a clump of tall grasses a half dozen chattering birds. instantly tarzan turned aside, for he knew well enough what manner of creature the presence of these little sentinels proclaimed. simultaneously buto, the rhinoceros, scrambled to his short legs and charged furiously. haphazard charges buto, the rhinoceros. with his weak eyes he sees but poorly even at short distances, and whether his erratic rushes are due to the panic of fear as he attempts to escape, or to the irascible temper with which he is generally credited, it is difficult to determine. nor is the matter of little moment to one whom buto charges, for if he be caught and tossed, the chances are that naught will interest him thereafter. and today it chanced that buto bore down straight upon tarzan, across the few yards of knee-deep grass which separated them. accident started him in the direction of the ape-man, and then his weak eyes discerned the enemy, and with a series of snorts he charged straight for him. the little rhino birds fluttered and circled about their giant ward. among the branches of the trees at the edge of the clearing, a score or more monkeys chattered and scolded as the loud snorts of the angry beast sent them scurrying affrightedly to the upper terraces. tarzan alone appeared indifferent and serene. directly in the path of the charge he stood. there had been no time to seek safety in the trees beyond the clearing, nor had tarzan any mind to delay his journey because of buto. he had met the stupid beast before and held him in fine contempt. and now buto was upon him, the massive head lowered and the long, heavy horn inclined for the frightful work for which nature had designed it; but as he struck upward, his weapon raked only thin air, for the ape-man had sprung lightly aloft with a catlike leap that carried him above the threatening horn to the broad back of the rhinoceros. another spring and he was on the ground behind the brute and racing like a deer for the trees. buto, angered and mystified by the strange disappearance of his prey, wheeled and charged frantically in another direction, which chanced to be not the direction of tarzan's flight, and so the ape-man came in safety to the trees and continued on his swift way through the forest. some distance ahead of him tantor moved steadily along the well-worn elephant trail, and ahead of tantor a crouching, black warrior listened intently in the middle of the path. presently he heard the sound for which he had been hoping--the cracking, snapping sound which heralded the approach of an elephant. to his right and left in other parts of the jungle other warriors were watching. a low signal, passed from one to another, apprised the most distant that the quarry was afoot. rapidly they converged toward the trail, taking positions in trees down wind from the point at which tantor must pass them. silently they waited and presently were rewarded by the sight of a mighty tusker carrying an amount of ivory in his long tusks that set their greedy hearts to palpitating. no sooner had he passed their positions than the warriors clambered from their perches. no longer were they silent, but instead clapped their hands and shouted as they reached the ground. for an instant tantor, the elephant, paused with upraised trunk and tail, with great ears up-pricked, and then he swung on along the trail at a rapid, shuffling pace--straight toward the covered pit with its sharpened stakes upstanding in the ground. behind him came the yelling warriors, urging him on in the rapid flight which would not permit a careful examination of the ground before him. tantor, the elephant, who could have turned and scattered his adversaries with a single charge, fled like a frightened deer--fled toward a hideous, torturing death. and behind them all came tarzan of the apes, racing through the jungle forest with the speed and agility of a squirrel, for he had heard the shouts of the warriors and had interpreted them correctly. once he uttered a piercing call that reverberated through the jungle; but tantor, in the panic of terror, either failed to hear, or hearing, dared not pause to heed. now the giant pachyderm was but a few yards from the hidden death lurking in his path, and the blacks, certain of success, were screaming and dancing in his wake, waving their war spears and celebrating in advance the acquisition of the splendid ivory carried by their prey and the surfeit of elephant meat which would be theirs this night. so intent were they upon their gratulations that they entirely failed to note the silent passage of the man-beast above their heads, nor did tantor, either, see or hear him, even though tarzan called to him to stop. a few more steps would precipitate tantor upon the sharpened stakes; tarzan fairly flew through the trees until he had come abreast of the fleeing animal and then had passed him. at the pit's verge the ape-man dropped to the ground in the center of the trail. tantor was almost upon him before his weak eyes permitted him to recognize his old friend. "stop!" cried tarzan, and the great beast halted to the upraised hand. tarzan turned and kicked aside some of the brush which hid the pit. instantly tantor saw and understood. "fight!" growled tarzan. "they are coming behind you." but tantor, the elephant, is a huge bunch of nerves, and now he was half panic-stricken by terror. before him yawned the pit, how far he did not know, but to right and left lay the primeval jungle untouched by man. with a squeal the great beast turned suddenly at right angles and burst his noisy way through the solid wall of matted vegetation that would have stopped any but him. tarzan, standing upon the edge of the pit, smiled as he watched tantor's undignified flight. soon the blacks would come. it was best that tarzan of the apes faded from the scene. he essayed a step from the pit's edge, and as he threw the weight of his body upon his left foot, the earth crumbled away. tarzan made a single herculean effort to throw himself forward, but it was too late. backward and downward he went toward the sharpened stakes in the bottom of the pit. when, a moment later, the blacks came they saw even from a distance that tantor had eluded them, for the size of the hole in the pit covering was too small to have accommodated the huge bulk of an elephant. at first they thought that their prey had put one great foot through the top and then, warned, drawn back; but when they had come to the pit's verge and peered over, their eyes went wide in astonishment, for, quiet and still, at the bottom lay the naked figure of a white giant. some of them there had glimpsed this forest god before and they drew back in terror, awed by the presence which they had for some time believed to possess the miraculous powers of a demon; but others there were who pushed forward, thinking only of the capture of an enemy, and these leaped into the pit and lifted tarzan out. there was no scar upon his body. none of the sharpened stakes had pierced him--only a swollen spot at the base of the brain indicated the nature of his injury. in the falling backward his head had struck upon the side of one of the stakes, rendering him unconscious. the blacks were quick to discover this, and equally quick to bind their prisoner's arms and legs before he should regain consciousness, for they had learned to harbor a wholesome respect for this strange man-beast that consorted with the hairy tree folk. they had carried him but a short distance toward their village when the ape-man's eyelids quivered and raised. he looked about him wonderingly for a moment, and then full consciousness returned and he realized the seriousness of his predicament. accustomed almost from birth to relying solely upon his own resources, he did not cast about for outside aid now, but devoted his mind to a consideration of the possibilities for escape which lay within himself and his own powers. he did not dare test the strength of his bonds while the blacks were carrying him, for fear they would become apprehensive and add to them. presently his captors discovered that he was conscious, and as they had little stomach for carrying a heavy man through the jungle heat, they set him upon his feet and forced him forward among them, pricking him now and then with their spears, yet with every manifestation of the superstitious awe in which they held him. when they discovered that their prodding brought no outward evidence of suffering, their awe increased, so that they soon desisted, half believing that this strange white giant was a supernatural being and so was immune from pain. as they approached their village, they shouted aloud the victorious cries of successful warriors, so that by the time they reached the gate, dancing and waving their spears, a great crowd of men, women, and children were gathered there to greet them and hear the story of their adventure. as the eyes of the villagers fell upon the prisoner, they went wild, and heavy jaws fell open in astonishment and incredulity. for months they had lived in perpetual terror of a weird, white demon whom but few had ever glimpsed and lived to describe. warriors had disappeared from the paths almost within sight of the village and from the midst of their companions as mysteriously and completely as though they had been swallowed by the earth, and later, at night, their dead bodies had fallen, as from the heavens, into the village street. this fearsome creature had appeared by night in the huts of the village, killed, and disappeared, leaving behind him in the huts with his dead, strange and terrifying evidences of an uncanny sense of humor. but now he was in their power! no longer could he terrorize them. slowly the realization of this dawned upon them. a woman, screaming, ran forward and struck the ape-man across the face. another and another followed her example, until tarzan of the apes was surrounded by a fighting, clawing, yelling mob of natives. and then mbonga, the chief, came, and laying his spear heavily across the shoulders of his people, drove them from their prey. "we will save him until night," he said. far out in the jungle tantor, the elephant, his first panic of fear allayed, stood with up-pricked ears and undulating trunk. what was passing through the convolutions of his savage brain? could he be searching for tarzan? could he recall and measure the service the ape-man had performed for him? of that there can be no doubt. but did he feel gratitude? would he have risked his own life to have saved tarzan could he have known of the danger which confronted his friend? you will doubt it. anyone at all familiar with elephants will doubt it. englishmen who have hunted much with elephants in india will tell you that they never have heard of an instance in which one of these animals has gone to the aid of a man in danger, even though the man had often befriended it. and so it is to be doubted that tantor would have attempted to overcome his instinctive fear of the black men in an effort to succor tarzan. the screams of the infuriated villagers came faintly to his sensitive ears, and he wheeled, as though in terror, contemplating flight; but something stayed him, and again he turned about, raised his trunk, and gave voice to a shrill cry. then he stood listening. in the distant village where mbonga had restored quiet and order, the voice of tantor was scarcely audible to the blacks, but to the keen ears of tarzan of the apes it bore its message. his captors were leading him to a hut where he might be confined and guarded against the coming of the nocturnal orgy that would mark his torture-laden death. he halted as he heard the notes of tantor's call, and raising his head, gave vent to a terrifying scream that sent cold chills through the superstitious blacks and caused the warriors who guarded him to leap back even though their prisoner's arms were securely bound behind him. with raised spears they encircled him as for a moment longer he stood listening. faintly from the distance came another, an answering cry, and tarzan of the apes, satisfied, turned and quietly pursued his way toward the hut where he was to be imprisoned. the afternoon wore on. from the surrounding village the ape-man heard the bustle of preparation for the feast. through the doorway of the hut he saw the women laying the cooking fires and filling their earthen caldrons with water; but above it all his ears were bent across the jungle in eager listening for the coming of tantor. even tarzan but half believed that he would come. he knew tantor even better than tantor knew himself. he knew the timid heart which lay in the giant body. he knew the panic of terror which the scent of the gomangani inspired within that savage breast, and as night drew on, hope died within his heart and in the stoic calm of the wild beast which he was, he resigned himself to meet the fate which awaited him. all afternoon he had been working, working, working with the bonds that held his wrists. very slowly they were giving. he might free his hands before they came to lead him out to be butchered, and if he did--tarzan licked his lips in anticipation, and smiled a cold, grim smile. he could imagine the feel of soft flesh beneath his fingers and the sinking of his white teeth into the throats of his foemen. he would let them taste his wrath before they overpowered him! at last they came--painted, befeathered warriors--even more hideous than nature had intended them. they came and pushed him into the open, where his appearance was greeted by wild shouts from the assembled villagers. to the stake they led him, and as they pushed him roughly against it preparatory to binding him there securely for the dance of death that would presently encircle him, tarzan tensed his mighty thews and with a single, powerful wrench parted the loosened thongs which had secured his hands. like thought, for quickness, he leaped forward among the warriors nearest him. a blow sent one to earth, as, growling and snarling, the beast-man leaped upon the breast of another. his fangs were buried instantly in the jugular of his adversary and then a half hundred black men had leaped upon him and borne him to earth. striking, clawing, and snapping, the ape-man fought--fought as his foster people had taught him to fight--fought like a wild beast cornered. his strength, his agility, his courage, and his intelligence rendered him easily a match for half a dozen black men in a hand-to-hand struggle, but not even tarzan of the apes could hope to successfully cope with half a hundred. slowly they were overpowering him, though a score of them bled from ugly wounds, and two lay very still beneath the trampling feet, and the rolling bodies of the contestants. overpower him they might, but could they keep him overpowered while they bound him? a half hour of desperate endeavor convinced them that they could not, and so mbonga, who, like all good rulers, had circled in the safety of the background, called to one to work his way in and spear the victim. gradually, through the milling, battling men, the warrior approached the object of his quest. he stood with poised spear above his head waiting for the instant that would expose a vulnerable part of the ape-man's body and still not endanger one of the blacks. closer and closer he edged about, following the movements of the twisting, scuffling combatants. the growls of the ape-man sent cold chills up the warrior's spine, causing him to go carefully lest he miss at the first cast and lay himself open to an attack from those merciless teeth and mighty hands. at last he found an opening. higher he raised his spear, tensing his muscles, rolling beneath his glistening, ebon hide, and then from the jungle just beyond the palisade came a thunderous crashing. the spear-hand paused, the black cast a quick glance in the direction of the disturbance, as did the others of the blacks who were not occupied with the subjugation of the ape-man. in the glare of the fires they saw a huge bulk topping the barrier. they saw the palisade belly and sway inward. they saw it burst as though built of straws, and an instant later tantor, the elephant, thundered down upon them. to right and left the blacks fled, screaming in terror. some who hovered upon the verge of the strife with tarzan heard and made good their escape, but a half dozen there were so wrapt in the blood-madness of battle that they failed to note the approach of the giant tusker. upon these tantor charged, trumpeting furiously. above them he stopped, his sensitive trunk weaving among them, and there, at the bottom, he found tarzan, bloody, but still battling. a warrior turned his eyes upward from the melee. above him towered the gigantic bulk of the pachyderm, the little eyes flashing with the reflected light of the fires--wicked, frightful, terrifying. the warrior screamed, and as he screamed, the sinuous trunk encircled him, lifted him high above the ground, and hurled him far after the fleeing crowd. another and another tantor wrenched from the body of the ape-man, throwing them to right and to left, where they lay either moaning or very quiet, as death came slowly or at once. at a distance mbonga rallied his warriors. his greedy eyes had noted the great ivory tusks of the bull. the first panic of terror relieved, he urged his men forward to attack with their heavy elephant spears; but as they came, tantor swung tarzan to his broad head, and, wheeling, lumbered off into the jungle through the great rent he had made in the palisade. elephant hunters may be right when they aver that this animal would not have rendered such service to a man, but to tantor, tarzan was not a man--he was but a fellow jungle beast. and so it was that tantor, the elephant, discharged an obligation to tarzan of the apes, cementing even more closely the friendship that had existed between them since tarzan as a little, brown boy rode upon tantor's huge back through the moonlit jungle beneath the equatorial stars. 3 the fight for the balu teeka had become a mother. tarzan of the apes was intensely interested, much more so, in fact, than taug, the father. tarzan was very fond of teeka. even the cares of prospective motherhood had not entirely quenched the fires of carefree youth, and teeka had remained a good-natured playmate even at an age when other shes of the tribe of kerchak had assumed the sullen dignity of maturity. she yet retained her childish delight in the primitive games of tag and hide-and-go-seek which tarzan's fertile man-mind had evolved. to play tag through the tree tops is an exciting and inspiring pastime. tarzan delighted in it, but the bulls of his childhood had long since abandoned such childish practices. teeka, though, had been keen for it always until shortly before the baby came; but with the advent of her first-born, even teeka changed. the evidence of the change surprised and hurt tarzan immeasurably. one morning he saw teeka squatted upon a low branch hugging something very close to her hairy breast--a wee something which squirmed and wriggled. tarzan approached filled with the curiosity which is common to all creatures endowed with brains which have progressed beyond the microscopic stage. teeka rolled her eyes in his direction and strained the squirming mite still closer to her. tarzan came nearer. teeka drew away and bared her fangs. tarzan was nonplussed. in all his experiences with teeka, never before had she bared fangs at him other than in play; but today she did not look playful. tarzan ran his brown fingers through his thick, black hair, cocked his head upon one side, and stared. then he edged a bit nearer, craning his neck to have a better look at the thing which teeka cuddled. again teeka drew back her upper lip in a warning snarl. tarzan reached forth a hand, cautiously, to touch the thing which teeka held, and teeka, with a hideous growl, turned suddenly upon him. her teeth sank into the flesh of his forearm before the ape-man could snatch it away, and she pursued him for a short distance as he retreated incontinently through the trees; but teeka, carrying her baby, could not overtake him. at a safe distance tarzan stopped and turned to regard his erstwhile play-fellow in unconcealed astonishment. what had happened to so alter the gentle teeka? she had so covered the thing in her arms that tarzan had not yet been able to recognize it for what it was; but now, as she turned from the pursuit of him, he saw it. through his pain and chagrin he smiled, for tarzan had seen young ape mothers before. in a few days she would be less suspicious. still tarzan was hurt; it was not right that teeka, of all others, should fear him. why, not for the world would he harm her, or her balu, which is the ape word for baby. and now, above the pain of his injured arm and the hurt to his pride, rose a still stronger desire to come close and inspect the new-born son of taug. possibly you will wonder that tarzan of the apes, mighty fighter that he was, should have fled before the irritable attack of a she, or that he should hesitate to return for the satisfaction of his curiosity when with ease he might have vanquished the weakened mother of the new-born cub; but you need not wonder. were you an ape, you would know that only a bull in the throes of madness will turn upon a female other than to gently chastise her, with the occasional exception of the individual whom we find exemplified among our own kind, and who delights in beating up his better half because she happens to be smaller and weaker than he. tarzan again came toward the young mother--warily and with his line of retreat safely open. again teeka growled ferociously. tarzan expostulated. "tarzan of the apes will not harm teeka's balu," he said. "let me see it." "go away!" commanded teeka. "go away, or i will kill you." "let me see it," urged tarzan. "go away," reiterated the she-ape. "here comes taug. he will make you go away. taug will kill you. this is taug's balu." a savage growl close behind him apprised tarzan of the nearness of taug, and the fact that the bull had heard the warnings and threats of his mate and was coming to her succor. now taug, as well as teeka, had been tarzan's play-fellow while the bull was still young enough to wish to play. once tarzan had saved taug's life; but the memory of an ape is not overlong, nor would gratitude rise above the parental instinct. tarzan and taug had once measured strength, and tarzan had been victorious. that fact taug could be depended upon still to remember; but even so, he might readily face another defeat for his first-born--if he chanced to be in the proper mood. from his hideous growls, which now rose in strength and volume, he seemed to be in quite the mood. now tarzan felt no fear of taug, nor did the unwritten law of the jungle demand that he should flee from battle with any male, unless he cared to from purely personal reasons. but tarzan liked taug. he had no grudge against him, and his man-mind told him what the mind of an ape would never have deduced--that taug's attitude in no sense indicated hatred. it was but the instinctive urge of the male to protect its offspring and its mate. tarzan had no desire to battle with taug, nor did the blood of his english ancestors relish the thought of flight, yet when the bull charged, tarzan leaped nimbly to one side, and thus encouraged, taug wheeled and rushed again madly to the attack. perhaps the memory of a past defeat at tarzan's hands goaded him. perhaps the fact that teeka sat there watching him aroused a desire to vanquish the ape-man before her eyes, for in the breast of every jungle male lurks a vast egotism which finds expression in the performance of deeds of derring-do before an audience of the opposite sex. at the ape-man's side swung his long grass rope--the play-thing of yesterday, the weapon of today--and as taug charged the second time, tarzan slipped the coils over his head and deftly shook out the sliding noose as he again nimbly eluded the ungainly beast. before the ape could turn again, tarzan had fled far aloft among the branches of the upper terrace. taug, now wrought to a frenzy of real rage, followed him. teeka peered upward at them. it was difficult to say whether she was interested. taug could not climb as rapidly as tarzan, so the latter reached the high levels to which the heavy ape dared not follow before the former overtook him. there he halted and looked down upon his pursuer, making faces at him and calling him such choice names as occurred to the fertile man-brain. then, when he had worked taug to such a pitch of foaming rage that the great bull fairly danced upon the bending limb beneath him, tarzan's hand shot suddenly outward, a widening noose dropped swiftly through the air, there was a quick jerk as it settled about taug, falling to his knees, a jerk that tightened it securely about the hairy legs of the anthropoid. taug, slow of wit, realized too late the intention of his tormentor. he scrambled to escape, but the ape-man gave the rope a tremendous jerk that pulled taug from his perch, and a moment later, growling hideously, the ape hung head downward thirty feet above the ground. tarzan secured the rope to a stout limb and descended to a point close to taug. "taug," he said, "you are as stupid as buto, the rhinoceros. now you may hang here until you get a little sense in your thick head. you may hang here and watch while i go and talk with teeka." taug blustered and threatened, but tarzan only grinned at him as he dropped lightly to the lower levels. here he again approached teeka only to be again greeted with bared fangs and menacing growls. he sought to placate her; he urged his friendly intentions, and craned his neck to have a look at teeka's balu; but the she-ape was not to be persuaded that he meant other than harm to her little one. her motherhood was still so new that reason was yet subservient to instinct. realizing the futility of attempting to catch and chastise tarzan, teeka sought to escape him. she dropped to the ground and lumbered across the little clearing about which the apes of the tribe were disposed in rest or in the search of food, and presently tarzan abandoned his attempts to persuade her to permit a close examination of the balu. the ape-man would have liked to handle the tiny thing. the very sight of it awakened in his breast a strange yearning. he wished to cuddle and fondle the grotesque little ape-thing. it was teeka's balu and tarzan had once lavished his young affections upon teeka. but now his attention was diverted by the voice of taug. the threats that had filled the ape's mouth had turned to pleas. the tightening noose was stopping the circulation of the blood in his legs--he was beginning to suffer. several apes sat near him highly interested in his predicament. they made uncomplimentary remarks about him, for each of them had felt the weight of taug's mighty hands and the strength of his great jaws. they were enjoying revenge. teeka, seeing that tarzan had turned back toward the trees, had halted in the center of the clearing, and there she sat hugging her balu and casting suspicious glances here and there. with the coming of the balu, teeka's care-free world had suddenly become peopled with innumerable enemies. she saw an implacable foe in tarzan, always heretofore her best friend. even poor old mumga, half blind and almost entirely toothless, searching patiently for grubworms beneath a fallen log, represented to her a malignant spirit thirsting for the blood of little balus. and while teeka guarded suspiciously against harm, where there was no harm, she failed to note two baleful, yellow-green eyes staring fixedly at her from behind a clump of bushes at the opposite side of the clearing. hollow from hunger, sheeta, the panther, glared greedily at the tempting meat so close at hand, but the sight of the great bulls beyond gave him pause. ah, if the she-ape with her balu would but come just a trifle nearer! a quick spring and he would be upon them and away again with his meat before the bulls could prevent. the tip of his tawny tail moved in spasmodic little jerks; his lower jaw hung low, exposing a red tongue and yellow fangs. but all this teeka did not see, nor did any other of the apes who were feeding or resting about her. nor did tarzan or the apes in the trees. hearing the abuse which the bulls were pouring upon the helpless taug, tarzan clambered quickly among them. one was edging closer and leaning far out in an effort to reach the dangling ape. he had worked himself into quite a fury through recollection of the last occasion upon which taug had mauled him, and now he was bent upon revenge. once he had grasped the swinging ape, he would quickly have drawn him within reach of his jaws. tarzan saw and was wroth. he loved a fair fight, but the thing which this ape contemplated revolted him. already a hairy hand had clutched the helpless taug when, with an angry growl of protest, tarzan leaped to the branch at the attacking ape's side, and with a single mighty cuff, swept him from his perch. surprised and enraged, the bull clutched madly for support as he toppled sidewise, and then with an agile movement succeeded in projecting himself toward another limb a few feet below. here he found a hand-hold, quickly righted himself, and as quickly clambered upward to be revenged upon tarzan, but the ape-man was otherwise engaged and did not wish to be interrupted. he was explaining again to taug the depths of the latter's abysmal ignorance, and pointing out how much greater and mightier was tarzan of the apes than taug or any other ape. in the end he would release taug, but not until taug was fully acquainted with his own inferiority. and then the maddened bull came from beneath, and instantly tarzan was transformed from a good-natured, teasing youth into a snarling, savage beast. along his scalp the hair bristled: his upper lip drew back that his fighting fangs might be uncovered and ready. he did not wait for the bull to reach him, for something in the appearance or the voice of the attacker aroused within the ape-man a feeling of belligerent antagonism that would not be denied. with a scream that carried no human note, tarzan leaped straight at the throat of the attacker. the impetuosity of this act and the weight and momentum of his body carried the bull backward, clutching and clawing for support, down through the leafy branches of the tree. for fifteen feet the two fell, tarzan's teeth buried in the jugular of his opponent, when a stout branch stopped their descent. the bull struck full upon the small of his back across the limb, hung there for a moment with the ape-man still upon his breast, and then toppled over toward the ground. tarzan had felt the instantaneous relaxation of the body beneath him after the heavy impact with the tree limb, and as the other turned completely over and started again upon its fall toward the ground, he reached forth a hand and caught the branch in time to stay his own descent, while the ape dropped like a plummet to the foot of the tree. tarzan looked downward for a moment upon the still form of his late antagonist, then he rose to his full height, swelled his deep chest, smote upon it with his clenched fist and roared out the uncanny challenge of the victorious bull ape. even sheeta, the panther, crouched for a spring at the edge of the little clearing, moved uneasily as the mighty voice sent its weird cry reverberating through the jungle. to right and left, nervously, glanced sheeta, as though assuring himself that the way of escape lay ready at hand. "i am tarzan of the apes," boasted the ape-man; "mighty hunter, mighty fighter! none in all the jungle so great as tarzan." then he made his way back in the direction of taug. teeka had watched the happenings in the tree. she had even placed her precious balu upon the soft grasses and come a little nearer that she might better witness all that was passing in the branches above her. in her heart of hearts did she still esteem the smooth-skinned tarzan? did her savage breast swell with pride as she witnessed his victory over the ape? you will have to ask teeka. and sheeta, the panther, saw that the she-ape had left her cub alone among the grasses. he moved his tail again, as though this closest approximation of lashing in which he dared indulge might stimulate his momentarily waned courage. the cry of the victorious ape-man still held his nerves beneath its spell. it would be several minutes before he again could bring himself to the point of charging into view of the giant anthropoids. and as he regathered his forces, tarzan reached taug's side, and then clambering higher up to the point where the end of the grass rope was made fast, he unloosed it and lowered the ape slowly downward, swinging him in until the clutching hands fastened upon a limb. quickly taug drew himself to a position of safety and shook off the noose. in his rage-maddened heart was no room for gratitude to the ape-man. he recalled only the fact that tarzan had laid this painful indignity upon him. he would be revenged, but just at present his legs were so numb and his head so dizzy that he must postpone the gratification of his vengeance. tarzan was coiling his rope the while he lectured taug on the futility of pitting his poor powers, physical and intellectual, against those of his betters. teeka had come close beneath the tree and was peering upward. sheeta was worming his way stealthily forward, his belly close to the ground. in another moment he would be clear of the underbrush and ready for the rapid charge and the quick retreat that would end the brief existence of teeka's balu. then tarzan chanced to look up and across the clearing. instantly his attitude of good-natured bantering and pompous boastfulness dropped from him. silently and swiftly he shot downward toward the ground. teeka, seeing him coming, and thinking that he was after her or her balu, bristled and prepared to fight. but tarzan sped by her, and as he went, her eyes followed him and she saw the cause of his sudden descent and his rapid charge across the clearing. there in full sight now was sheeta, the panther, stalking slowly toward the tiny, wriggling balu which lay among the grasses many yards away. teeka gave voice to a shrill scream of terror and of warning as she dashed after the ape-man. sheeta saw tarzan coming. he saw the she-ape's cub before him, and he thought that this other was bent upon robbing him of his prey. with an angry growl, he charged. taug, warned by teeka's cry, came lumbering down to her assistance. several other bulls, growling and barking, closed in toward the clearing, but they were all much farther from the balu and the panther than was tarzan of the apes, so it was that sheeta and the ape-man reached teeka's little one almost simultaneously; and there they stood, one upon either side of it, baring their fangs and snarling at each other over the little creature. sheeta was afraid to seize the balu, for thus he would give the ape-man an opening for attack; and for the same reason tarzan hesitated to snatch the panther's prey out of harm's way, for had he stooped to accomplish this, the great beast would have been upon him in an instant. thus they stood while teeka came across the clearing, going more slowly as she neared the panther, for even her mother love could scarce overcome her instinctive terror of this natural enemy of her kind. behind her came taug, warily and with many pauses and much bluster, and still behind him came other bulls, snarling ferociously and uttering their uncanny challenges. sheeta's yellow-green eyes glared terribly at tarzan, and past tarzan they shot brief glances at the apes of kerchak advancing upon him. discretion prompted him to turn and flee, but hunger and the close proximity of the tempting morsel in the grass before him urged him to remain. he reached forth a paw toward teeka's balu, and as he did so, with a savage guttural, tarzan of the apes was upon him. the panther reared to meet the ape-man's attack. he swung a frightful raking blow for tarzan that would have wiped his face away had it landed, but it did not land, for tarzan ducked beneath it and closed, his long knife ready in one strong hand--the knife of his dead father, of the father he never had known. instantly the balu was forgotten by sheeta, the panther. he now thought only of tearing to ribbons with his powerful talons the flesh of his antagonist, of burying his long, yellow fangs in the soft, smooth hide of the ape-man, but tarzan had fought before with clawed creatures of the jungle. before now he had battled with fanged monsters, nor always had he come away unscathed. he knew the risk that he ran, but tarzan of the apes, inured to the sight of suffering and death, shrank from neither, for he feared neither. the instant that he dodged beneath sheeta's blow, he leaped to the beast's rear and then full upon the tawny back, burying his teeth in sheeta's neck and the fingers of one hand in the fur at the throat, and with the other hand he drove his blade into sheeta's side. over and over upon the grass rolled sheeta, growling and screaming, clawing and biting, in a mad effort to dislodge his antagonist or get some portion of his body within range of teeth or talons. as tarzan leaped to close quarters with the panther, teeka had run quickly in and snatched up her balu. now she sat upon a high branch, safe out of harm's way, cuddling the little thing close to her hairy breast, the while her savage little eyes bored down upon the contestants in the clearing, and her ferocious voice urged taug and the other bulls to leap into the melee. thus goaded the bulls came closer, redoubling their hideous clamor; but sheeta was already sufficiently engaged--he did not even hear them. once he succeeded in partially dislodging the ape-man from his back, so that tarzan swung for an instant in front of those awful talons, and in the brief instant before he could regain his former hold, a raking blow from a hind paw laid open one leg from hip to knee. it was the sight and smell of this blood, possibly, which wrought upon the encircling apes; but it was taug who really was responsible for the thing they did. taug, but a moment before filled with rage toward tarzan of the apes, stood close to the battling pair, his red-rimmed, wicked little eyes glaring at them. what was passing in his savage brain? did he gloat over the unenviable position of his recent tormentor? did he long to see sheeta's great fangs sink into the soft throat of the ape-man? or did he realize the courageous unselfishness that had prompted tarzan to rush to the rescue and imperil his life for teeka's balu--for taug's little balu? is gratitude a possession of man only, or do the lower orders know it also? with the spilling of tarzan's blood, taug answered these questions. with all the weight of his great body he leaped, hideously growling, upon sheeta. his long fighting fangs buried themselves in the white throat. his powerful arms beat and clawed at the soft fur until it flew upward in the jungle breeze. and with taug's example before them the other bulls charged, burying sheeta beneath rending fangs and filling all the forest with the wild din of their battle cries. ah! but it was a wondrous and inspiring sight--this battle of the primordial apes and the great, white ape-man with their ancestral foe, sheeta, the panther. in frenzied excitement, teeka fairly danced upon the limb which swayed beneath her great weight as she urged on the males of her people, and thaka, and mumga, and kamma, with the other shes of the tribe of kerchak, added their shrill cries or fierce barkings to the pandemonium which now reigned within the jungle. bitten and biting, tearing and torn, sheeta battled for his life; but the odds were against him. even numa, the lion, would have hesitated to have attacked an equal number of the great bulls of the tribe of kerchak, and now, a half mile away, hearing the sounds of the terrific battle, the king of beasts rose uneasily from his midday slumber and slunk off farther into the jungle. presently sheeta's torn and bloody body ceased its titanic struggles. it stiffened spasmodically, twitched and was still, yet the bulls continued to lacerate it until the beautiful coat was torn to shreds. at last they desisted from sheer physical weariness, and then from the tangle of bloody bodies rose a crimson giant, straight as an arrow. he placed a foot upon the dead body of the panther, and lifting his blood-stained face to the blue of the equatorial heavens, gave voice to the horrid victory cry of the bull ape. one by one his hairy fellows of the tribe of kerchak followed his example. the shes came down from their perches of safety and struck and reviled the dead body of sheeta. the young apes refought the battle in mimicry of their mighty elders. teeka was quite close to tarzan. he turned and saw her with the balu hugged close to her hairy breast, and put out his hands to take the little one, expecting that teeka would bare her fangs and spring upon him; but instead she placed the balu in his arms, and coming nearer, licked his frightful wounds. and presently taug, who had escaped with only a few scratches, came and squatted beside tarzan and watched him as he played with the little balu, and at last he too leaned over and helped teeka with the cleansing and the healing of the ape-man's hurts. 4 the god of tarzan among the books of his dead father in the little cabin by the land-locked harbor, tarzan of the apes found many things to puzzle his young head. by much labor and through the medium of infinite patience as well, he had, without assistance, discovered the purpose of the little bugs which ran riot upon the printed pages. he had learned that in the many combinations in which he found them they spoke in a silent language, spoke in a strange tongue, spoke of wonderful things which a little ape-boy could not by any chance fully understand, arousing his curiosity, stimulating his imagination and filling his soul with a mighty longing for further knowledge. a dictionary had proven itself a wonderful storehouse of information, when, after several years of tireless endeavor, he had solved the mystery of its purpose and the manner of its use. he had learned to make a species of game out of it, following up the spoor of a new thought through the mazes of the many definitions which each new word required him to consult. it was like following a quarry through the jungle--it was hunting, and tarzan of the apes was an indefatigable huntsman. there were, of course, certain words which aroused his curiosity to a greater extent than others, words which, for one reason or another, excited his imagination. there was one, for example, the meaning of which was rather difficult to grasp. it was the word god. tarzan first had been attracted to it by the fact that it was very short and that it commenced with a larger g-bug than those about it--a male g-bug it was to tarzan, the lower-case letters being females. another fact which attracted him to this word was the number of he-bugs which figured in its definition--supreme deity, creator or upholder of the universe. this must be a very important word indeed, he would have to look into it, and he did, though it still baffled him after many months of thought and study. however, tarzan counted no time wasted which he devoted to these strange hunting expeditions into the game preserves of knowledge, for each word and each definition led on and on into strange places, into new worlds where, with increasing frequency, he met old, familiar faces. and always he added to his store of knowledge. but of the meaning of god he was yet in doubt. once he thought he had grasped it--that god was a mighty chieftain, king of all the mangani. he was not quite sure, however, since that would mean that god was mightier than tarzan--a point which tarzan of the apes, who acknowledged no equal in the jungle, was loath to concede. but in all the books he had there was no picture of god, though he found much to confirm his belief that god was a great, an all-powerful individual. he saw pictures of places where god was worshiped; but never any sign of god. finally he began to wonder if god were not of a different form than he, and at last he determined to set out in search of him. he commenced by questioning mumga, who was very old and had seen many strange things in her long life; but mumga, being an ape, had a faculty for recalling the trivial. that time when gunto mistook a sting-bug for an edible beetle had made more impression upon mumga than all the innumerable manifestations of the greatness of god which she had witnessed, and which, of course, she had not understood. numgo, overhearing tarzan's questions, managed to wrest his attention long enough from the diversion of flea hunting to advance the theory that the power which made the lightning and the rain and the thunder came from goro, the moon. he knew this, he said, because the dum-dum always was danced in the light of goro. this reasoning, though entirely satisfactory to numgo and mumga, failed fully to convince tarzan. however, it gave him a basis for further investigation along a new line. he would investigate the moon. that night he clambered to the loftiest pinnacle of the tallest jungle giant. the moon was full, a great, glorious, equatorial moon. the ape-man, upright upon a slender, swaying limb, raised his bronzed face to the silver orb. now that he had clambered to the highest point within his reach, he discovered, to his surprise, that goro was as far away as when he viewed him from the ground. he thought that goro was attempting to elude him. "come, goro!" he cried, "tarzan of the apes will not harm you!" but still the moon held aloof. "tell me," he continued, "if you be the great king who sends ara, the lightning; who makes the great noise and the mighty winds, and sends the waters down upon the jungle people when the days are dark and it is cold. tell me, goro, are you god?" of course he did not pronounce god as you or i would pronounce his name, for tarzan knew naught of the spoken language of his english forbears; but he had a name of his own invention for each of the little bugs which constituted the alphabet. unlike the apes he was not satisfied merely to have a mental picture of the things he knew, he must have a word descriptive of each. in reading he grasped a word in its entirety; but when he spoke the words he had learned from the books of his father, he pronounced each according to the names he had given the various little bugs which occurred in it, usually giving the gender prefix for each. thus it was an imposing word which tarzan made of god. the masculine prefix of the apes is bu, the feminine mu; g tarzan had named la, o he pronounced tu, and d was mo. so the word god evolved itself into bulamutumumo, or, in english, he-g-she-o-she-d. similarly he had arrived at a strange and wonderful spelling of his own name. tarzan is derived from the two ape words tar and zan, meaning white skin. it was given him by his foster mother, kala, the great she-ape. when tarzan first put it into the written language of his own people he had not yet chanced upon either white or skin in the dictionary; but in a primer he had seen the picture of a little white boy and so he wrote his name bumude-mutomuro, or he-boy. to follow tarzan's strange system of spelling would be laborious as well as futile, and so we shall in the future, as we have in the past, adhere to the more familiar forms of our grammar school copybooks. it would tire you to remember that do meant b, tu o, and ro y, and that to say he-boy you must prefix the ape masculine gender sound bu before the entire word and the feminine gender sound mu before each of the lower-case letters which go to make up boy--it would tire you and it would bring me to the nineteenth hole several strokes under par. and so tarzan harangued the moon, and when goro did not reply, tarzan of the apes waxed wroth. he swelled his giant chest and bared his fighting fangs, and hurled into the teeth of the dead satellite the challenge of the bull ape. "you are not bulamutumumo," he cried. "you are not king of the jungle folk. you are not so great as tarzan, mighty fighter, mighty hunter. none there is so great as tarzan. if there be a bulamutumumo, tarzan can kill him. come down, goro, great coward, and fight with tarzan. tarzan will kill you. i am tarzan, the killer." but the moon made no answer to the boasting of the ape-man, and when a cloud came and obscured her face, tarzan thought that goro was indeed afraid, and was hiding from him, so he came down out of the trees and awoke numgo and told him how great was tarzan--how he had frightened goro out of the sky and made him tremble. tarzan spoke of the moon as he, for all things large or awe inspiring are male to the ape folk. numgo was not much impressed; but he was very sleepy, so he told tarzan to go away and leave his betters alone. "but where shall i find god?" insisted tarzan. "you are very old; if there is a god you must have seen him. what does he look like? where does he live?" "i am god," replied numgo. "now sleep and disturb me no more." tarzan looked at numgo steadily for several minutes, his shapely head sank just a trifle between his great shoulders, his square chin shot forward and his short upper lip drew back, exposing his white teeth. then, with a low growl he leaped upon the ape and buried his fangs in the other's hairy shoulder, clutching the great neck in his mighty fingers. twice he shook the old ape, then he released his tooth-hold. "are you god?" he demanded. "no," wailed numgo. "i am only a poor, old ape. leave me alone. go ask the gomangani where god is. they are hairless like yourself and very wise, too. they should know." tarzan released numgo and turned away. the suggestion that he consult the blacks appealed to him, and though his relations with the people of mbonga, the chief, were the antithesis of friendly, he could at least spy upon his hated enemies and discover if they had intercourse with god. so it was that tarzan set forth through the trees toward the village of the blacks, all excitement at the prospect of discovering the supreme being, the creator of all things. as he traveled he reviewed, mentally, his armament--the condition of his hunting knife, the number of his arrows, the newness of the gut which strung his bow--he hefted the war spear which had once been the pride of some black warrior of mbonga's tribe. if he met god, tarzan would be prepared. one could never tell whether a grass rope, a war spear, or a poisoned arrow would be most efficacious against an unfamiliar foe. tarzan of the apes was quite content--if god wished to fight, the ape-man had no doubt as to the outcome of the struggle. there were many questions tarzan wished to put to the creator of the universe and so he hoped that god would not prove a belligerent god; but his experience of life and the ways of living things had taught him that any creature with the means for offense and defense was quite likely to provoke attack if in the proper mood. it was dark when tarzan came to the village of mbonga. as silently as the silent shadows of the night he sought his accustomed place among the branches of the great tree which overhung the palisade. below him, in the village street, he saw men and women. the men were hideously painted--more hideously than usual. among them moved a weird and grotesque figure, a tall figure that went upon the two legs of a man and yet had the head of a buffalo. a tail dangled to his ankles behind him, and in one hand he carried a zebra's tail while the other clutched a bunch of small arrows. tarzan was electrified. could it be that chance had given him thus early an opportunity to look upon god? surely this thing was neither man nor beast, so what could it be then other than the creator of the universe! the ape-man watched the every move of the strange creature. he saw the black men and women fall back at its approach as though they stood in terror of its mysterious powers. presently he discovered that the deity was speaking and that all listened in silence to his words. tarzan was sure that none other than god could inspire such awe in the hearts of the gomangani, or stop their mouths so effectually without recourse to arrows or spears. tarzan had come to look with contempt upon the blacks, principally because of their garrulity. the small apes talked a great deal and ran away from an enemy. the big, old bulls of kerchak talked but little and fought upon the slightest provocation. numa, the lion, was not given to loquacity, yet of all the jungle folk there were few who fought more often than he. tarzan witnessed strange things that night, none of which he understood, and, perhaps because they were strange, he thought that they must have to do with the god he could not understand. he saw three youths receive their first war spears in a weird ceremony which the grotesque witch-doctor strove successfully to render uncanny and awesome. hugely interested, he watched the slashing of the three brown arms and the exchange of blood with mbonga, the chief, in the rites of the ceremony of blood brotherhood. he saw the zebra's tail dipped into a caldron of water above which the witch-doctor had made magical passes the while he danced and leaped about it, and he saw the breasts and foreheads of each of the three novitiates sprinkled with the charmed liquid. could the ape-man have known the purpose of this act, that it was intended to render the recipient invulnerable to the attacks of his enemies and fearless in the face of any danger, he would doubtless have leaped into the village street and appropriated the zebra's tail and a portion of the contents of the caldron. but he did not know, and so he only wondered, not alone at what he saw but at the strange sensations which played up and down his naked spine, sensations induced, doubtless, by the same hypnotic influence which held the black spectators in tense awe upon the verge of a hysteric upheaval. the longer tarzan watched, the more convinced he became that his eyes were upon god, and with the conviction came determination to have word with the deity. with tarzan of the apes, to think was to act. the people of mbonga were keyed to the highest pitch of hysterical excitement. they needed little to release the accumulated pressure of static nerve force which the terrorizing mummery of the witch-doctor had induced. a lion roared, suddenly and loud, close without the palisade. the blacks started nervously, dropping into utter silence as they listened for a repetition of that all-too-familiar and always terrorizing voice. even the witch-doctor paused in the midst of an intricate step, remaining momentarily rigid and statuesque as he plumbed his cunning mind for a suggestion as how best he might take advantage of the condition of his audience and the timely interruption. already the evening had been vastly profitable to him. there would be three goats for the initiation of the three youths into full-fledged warriorship, and besides these he had received several gifts of grain and beads, together with a piece of copper wire from admiring and terrified members of his audience. numa's roar still reverberated along taut nerves when a woman's laugh, shrill and piercing, shattered the silence of the village. it was this moment that tarzan chose to drop lightly from his tree into the village street. fearless among his blood enemies he stood, taller by a full head than many of mbonga's warriors, straight as their straightest arrow, muscled like numa, the lion. for a moment tarzan stood looking straight at the witch-doctor. every eye was upon him, yet no one had moved--a paralysis of terror held them, to be broken a moment later as the ape-man, with a toss of head, stepped straight toward the hideous figure beneath the buffalo head. then the nerves of the blacks could stand no more. for months the terror of the strange, white, jungle god had been upon them. their arrows had been stolen from the very center of the village; their warriors had been silently slain upon the jungle trails and their dead bodies dropped mysteriously and by night into the village street as from the heavens above. one or two there were who had glimpsed the strange figure of the new demon and it was from their oft-repeated descriptions that the entire village now recognized tarzan as the author of many of their ills. upon another occasion and by daylight, the warriors would doubtless have leaped to attack him, but at night, and this night of all others, when they were wrought to such a pitch of nervous dread by the uncanny artistry of their witch-doctor, they were helpless with terror. as one man they turned and fled, scattering for their huts, as tarzan advanced. for a moment one and one only held his ground. it was the witch-doctor. more than half self-hypnotized into a belief in his own charlatanry he faced this new demon who threatened to undermine his ancient and lucrative profession. "are you god?" asked tarzan. the witch-doctor, having no idea of the meaning of the other's words, danced a few strange steps, leaped high in the air, turning completely around and alighting in a stooping posture with feet far outspread and head thrust out toward the ape-man. thus he remained for an instant before he uttered a loud "boo!" which was evidently intended to frighten tarzan away; but in reality had no such effect. tarzan did not pause. he had set out to approach and examine god and nothing upon earth might now stay his feet. seeing that his antics had no potency with the visitor, the witch-doctor tried some new medicine. spitting upon the zebra's tail, which he still clutched in one hand, he made circles above it with the arrows in the other hand, meanwhile backing cautiously away from tarzan and speaking confidentially to the bushy end of the tail. this medicine must be short medicine, however, for the creature, god or demon, was steadily closing up the distance which had separated them. the circles therefore were few and rapid, and when they were completed, the witch-doctor struck an attitude which was intended to be awe inspiring and waving the zebra's tail before him, drew an imaginary line between himself and tarzan. "beyond this line you cannot pass, for my medicine is strong medicine," he cried. "stop, or you will fall dead as your foot touches this spot. my mother was a voodoo, my father was a snake; i live upon lions' hearts and the entrails of the panther; i eat young babies for breakfast and the demons of the jungle are my slaves. i am the most powerful witch-doctor in the world; i fear nothing, for i cannot die. i--" but he got no further; instead he turned and fled as tarzan of the apes crossed the magical dead line and still lived. as the witch-doctor ran, tarzan almost lost his temper. this was no way for god to act, at least not in accordance with the conception tarzan had come to have of god. "come back!" he cried. "come back, god, i will not harm you." but the witch-doctor was in full retreat by this time, stepping high as he leaped over cooking pots and the smoldering embers of small fires that had burned before the huts of villagers. straight for his own hut ran the witch-doctor, terror-spurred to unwonted speed; but futile was his effort--the ape-man bore down upon him with the speed of bara, the deer. just at the entrance to his hut the witch-doctor was overhauled. a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder to drag him back. it seized upon a portion of the buffalo hide, dragging the disguise from him. it was a naked black man that tarzan saw dodge into the darkness of the hut's interior. so this was what he had thought was god! tarzan's lip curled in an angry snarl as he leaped into the hut after the terror-stricken witch-doctor. in the blackness within he found the man huddled at the far side and dragged him forth into the comparative lightness of the moonlit night. the witch-doctor bit and scratched in an attempt to escape; but a few cuffs across the head brought him to a better realization of the futility of resistance. beneath the moon tarzan held the cringing figure upon its shaking feet. "so you are god!" he cried. "if you be god, then tarzan is greater than god," and so the ape-man thought. "i am tarzan," he shouted into the ear of the black. "in all the jungle, or above it, or upon the running waters, or the sleeping waters, or upon the big water, or the little water, there is none so great as tarzan. tarzan is greater than the mangani; he is greater than the gomangani. with his own hands he has slain numa, the lion, and sheeta, the panther; there is none so great as tarzan. tarzan is greater than god. see!" and with a sudden wrench he twisted the black's neck until the fellow shrieked in pain and then slumped to the earth in a swoon. placing his foot upon the neck of the fallen witch-doctor, the ape-man raised his face to the moon and uttered the long, shrill scream of the victorious bull ape. then he stooped and snatched the zebra's tail from the nerveless fingers of the unconscious man and without a backward glance retraced his footsteps across the village. from several hut doorways frightened eyes watched him. mbonga, the chief, was one of those who had seen what passed before the hut of the witch-doctor. mbonga was greatly concerned. wise old patriarch that he was, he never had more than half believed in witch-doctors, at least not since greater wisdom had come with age; but as a chief he was well convinced of the power of the witch-doctor as an arm of government, and often it was that mbonga used the superstitious fears of his people to his own ends through the medium of the medicine-man. mbonga and the witch-doctor had worked together and divided the spoils, and now the "face" of the witch-doctor would be lost forever if any saw what mbonga had seen; nor would this generation again have as much faith in any future witch-doctor. mbonga must do something to counteract the evil influence of the forest demon's victory over the witch-doctor. he raised his heavy spear and crept silently from his hut in the wake of the retreating ape-man. down the village street walked tarzan, as unconcerned and as deliberate as though only the friendly apes of kerchak surrounded him instead of a village full of armed enemies. seeming only was the indifference of tarzan, for alert and watchful was every well-trained sense. mbonga, wily stalker of keen-eared jungle creatures, moved now in utter silence. not even bara, the deer, with his great ears could have guessed from any sound that mbonga was near; but the black was not stalking bara; he was stalking man, and so he sought only to avoid noise. closer and closer to the slowly moving ape-man he came. now he raised his war spear, throwing his spear-hand far back above his right shoulder. once and for all would mbonga, the chief, rid himself and his people of the menace of this terrifying enemy. he would make no poor cast; he would take pains, and he would hurl his weapon with such great force as would finish the demon forever. but mbonga, sure as he thought himself, erred in his calculations. he might believe that he was stalking a man--he did not know, however, that it was a man with the delicate sense perception of the lower orders. tarzan, when he had turned his back upon his enemies, had noted what mbonga never would have thought of considering in the hunting of man--the wind. it was blowing in the same direction that tarzan was proceeding, carrying to his delicate nostrils the odors which arose behind him. thus it was that tarzan knew that he was being followed, for even among the many stenches of an african village, the ape-man's uncanny faculty was equal to the task of differentiating one stench from another and locating with remarkable precision the source from whence it came. he knew that a man was following him and coming closer, and his judgment warned him of the purpose of the stalker. when mbonga, therefore, came within spear range of the ape-man, the latter suddenly wheeled upon him, so suddenly that the poised spear was shot a fraction of a second before mbonga had intended. it went a trifle high and tarzan stooped to let it pass over his head; then he sprang toward the chief. but mbonga did not wait to receive him. instead, he turned and fled for the dark doorway of the nearest hut, calling as he went for his warriors to fall upon the stranger and slay him. well indeed might mbonga scream for help, for tarzan, young and fleet-footed, covered the distance between them in great leaps, at the speed of a charging lion. he was growling, too, not at all unlike numa himself. mbonga heard and his blood ran cold. he could feel the wool stiffen upon his pate and a prickly chill run up his spine, as though death had come and run his cold finger along mbonga's back. others heard, too, and saw, from the darkness of their huts--bold warriors, hideously painted, grasping heavy war spears in nerveless fingers. against numa, the lion, they would have charged fearlessly. against many times their own number of black warriors would they have raced to the protection of their chief; but this weird jungle demon filled them with terror. there was nothing human in the bestial growls that rumbled up from his deep chest; there was nothing human in the bared fangs, or the catlike leaps. mbonga's warriors were terrified--too terrified to leave the seeming security of their huts while they watched the beast-man spring full upon the back of their old chieftain. mbonga went down with a scream of terror. he was too frightened even to attempt to defend himself. he just lay beneath his antagonist in a paralysis of fear, screaming at the top of his lungs. tarzan half rose and kneeled above the black. he turned mbonga over and looked him in the face, exposing the man's throat, then he drew his long, keen knife, the knife that john clayton, lord greystoke, had brought from england many years before. he raised it close above mbonga's neck. the old black whimpered with terror. he pleaded for his life in a tongue which tarzan could not understand. for the first time the ape-man had a close view of the chief. he saw an old man, a very old man with scrawny neck and wrinkled face--a dried, parchment-like face which resembled some of the little monkeys tarzan knew so well. he saw the terror in the man's eyes--never before had tarzan seen such terror in the eyes of any animal, or such a piteous appeal for mercy upon the face of any creature. something stayed the ape-man's hand for an instant. he wondered why it was that he hesitated to make the kill; never before had he thus delayed. the old man seemed to wither and shrink to a bag of puny bones beneath his eyes. so weak and helpless and terror-stricken he appeared that the ape-man was filled with a great contempt; but another sensation also claimed him--something new to tarzan of the apes in relation to an enemy. it was pity--pity for a poor, frightened, old man. tarzan rose and turned away, leaving mbonga, the chief, unharmed. with head held high the ape-man walked through the village, swung himself into the branches of the tree which overhung the palisade and disappeared from the sight of the villagers. all the way back to the stamping ground of the apes, tarzan sought for an explanation of the strange power which had stayed his hand and prevented him from slaying mbonga. it was as though someone greater than he had commanded him to spare the life of the old man. tarzan could not understand, for he could conceive of nothing, or no one, with the authority to dictate to him what he should do, or what he should refrain from doing. it was late when tarzan sought a swaying couch among the trees beneath which slept the apes of kerchak, and he was still absorbed in the solution of his strange problem when he fell asleep. the sun was well up in the heavens when he awoke. the apes were astir in search of food. tarzan watched them lazily from above as they scratched in the rotting loam for bugs and beetles and grubworms, or sought among the branches of the trees for eggs and young birds, or luscious caterpillars. an orchid, dangling close beside his head, opened slowly, unfolding its delicate petals to the warmth and light of the sun which but recently had penetrated to its shady retreat. a thousand times had tarzan of the apes witnessed the beauteous miracle; but now it aroused a keener interest, for the ape-man was just commencing to ask himself questions about all the myriad wonders which heretofore he had but taken for granted. what made the flower open? what made it grow from a tiny bud to a full-blown bloom? why was it at all? why was he? where did numa, the lion, come from? who planted the first tree? how did goro get way up into the darkness of the night sky to cast his welcome light upon the fearsome nocturnal jungle? and the sun! did the sun merely happen there? why were all the peoples of the jungle not trees? why were the trees not something else? why was tarzan different from taug, and taug different from bara, the deer, and bara different from sheeta, the panther, and why was not sheeta like buto, the rhinoceros? where and how, anyway, did they all come from--the trees, the flowers, the insects, the countless creatures of the jungle? quite unexpectedly an idea popped into tarzan's head. in following out the many ramifications of the dictionary definition of god he had come upon the word create--"to cause to come into existence; to form out of nothing." tarzan almost had arrived at something tangible when a distant wail startled him from his preoccupation into sensibility of the present and the real. the wail came from the jungle at some little distance from tarzan's swaying couch. it was the wail of a tiny balu. tarzan recognized it at once as the voice of gazan, teeka's baby. they had called it gazan because its soft, baby hair had been unusually red, and gazan in the language of the great apes, means red skin. the wail was immediately followed by a real scream of terror from the small lungs. tarzan was electrified into instant action. like an arrow from a bow he shot through the trees in the direction of the sound. ahead of him he heard the savage snarling of an adult she-ape. it was teeka to the rescue. the danger must be very real. tarzan could tell that by the note of rage mingled with fear in the voice of the she. running along bending limbs, swinging from one tree to another, the ape-man raced through the middle terraces toward the sounds which now had risen in volume to deafening proportions. from all directions the apes of kerchak were hurrying in response to the appeal in the tones of the balu and its mother, and as they came, their roars reverberated through the forest. but tarzan, swifter than his heavy fellows, distanced them all. it was he who was first upon the scene. what he saw sent a cold chill through his giant frame, for the enemy was the most hated and loathed of all the jungle creatures. twined in a great tree was histah, the snake--huge, ponderous, slimy--and in the folds of its deadly embrace was teeka's little balu, gazan. nothing in the jungle inspired within the breast of tarzan so near a semblance to fear as did the hideous histah. the apes, too, loathed the terrifying reptile and feared him even more than they did sheeta, the panther, or numa, the lion. of all their enemies there was none they gave a wider berth than they gave histah, the snake. tarzan knew that teeka was peculiarly fearful of this silent, repulsive foe, and as the scene broke upon his vision, it was the action of teeka which filled him with the greatest wonder, for at the moment that he saw her, the she-ape leaped upon the glistening body of the snake, and as the mighty folds encircled her as well as her offspring, she made no effort to escape, but instead grasped the writhing body in a futile effort to tear it from her screaming balu. tarzan knew all too well how deep-rooted was teeka's terror of histah. he scarce could believe the testimony of his own eyes then, when they told him that she had voluntarily rushed into that deadly embrace. nor was teeka's innate dread of the monster much greater than tarzan's own. never, willingly, had he touched a snake. why, he could not say, for he would admit fear of nothing; nor was it fear, but rather an inherent repulsion bequeathed to him by many generations of civilized ancestors, and back of them, perhaps, by countless myriads of such as teeka, in the breasts of each of which had lurked the same nameless terror of the slimy reptile. yet tarzan did not hesitate more than had teeka, but leaped upon histah with all the speed and impetuosity that he would have shown had he been springing upon bara, the deer, to make a kill for food. thus beset the snake writhed and twisted horribly; but not for an instant did it loose its hold upon any of its intended victims, for it had included the ape-man in its cold embrace the minute that he had fallen upon it. still clinging to the tree, the mighty reptile held the three as though they had been without weight, the while it sought to crush the life from them. tarzan had drawn his knife and this he now plunged rapidly into the body of the enemy; but the encircling folds promised to sap his life before he had inflicted a death wound upon the snake. yet on he fought, nor once did he seek to escape the horrid death that confronted him--his sole aim was to slay histah and thus free teeka and her balu. the great, wide-gaping jaws of the snake turned and hovered above him. the elastic maw, which could accommodate a rabbit or a horned buck with equal facility, yawned for him; but histah, in turning his attention upon the ape-man, brought his head within reach of tarzan's blade. instantly a brown hand leaped forth and seized the mottled neck, and another drove the heavy hunting knife to the hilt into the little brain. convulsively histah shuddered and relaxed, tensed and relaxed again, whipping and striking with his great body; but no longer sentient or sensible. histah was dead, but in his death throes he might easily dispatch a dozen apes or men. quickly tarzan seized teeka and dragged her from the loosened embrace, dropping her to the ground beneath, then he extricated the balu and tossed it to its mother. still histah whipped about, clinging to the ape-man; but after a dozen efforts tarzan succeeded in wriggling free and leaping to the ground out of range of the mighty battering of the dying snake. a circle of apes surrounded the scene of the battle; but the moment that tarzan broke safely from the enemy they turned silently away to resume their interrupted feeding, and teeka turned with them, apparently forgetful of all but her balu and the fact that when the interruption had occurred she just had discovered an ingeniously hidden nest containing three perfectly good eggs. tarzan, equally indifferent to a battle that was over, merely cast a parting glance at the still writhing body of histah and wandered off toward the little pool which served to water the tribe at this point. strangely, he did not give the victory cry over the vanquished histah. why, he could not have told you, other than that to him histah was not an animal. he differed in some peculiar way from the other denizens of the jungle. tarzan only knew that he hated him. at the pool tarzan drank his fill and lay stretched upon the soft grass beneath the shade of a tree. his mind reverted to the battle with histah, the snake. it seemed strange to him that teeka should have placed herself within the folds of the horrid monster. why had she done it? why, indeed, had he? teeka did not belong to him, nor did teeka's balu. they were both taug's. why then had he done this thing? histah was not food for him when he was dead. there seemed to tarzan, now that he gave the matter thought, no reason in the world why he should have done the thing he did, and presently it occurred to him that he had acted almost involuntarily, just as he had acted when he had released the old gomangani the previous evening. what made him do such things? somebody more powerful than he must force him to act at times. "all-powerful," thought tarzan. "the little bugs say that god is all-powerful. it must be that god made me do these things, for i never did them by myself. it was god who made teeka rush upon histah. teeka would never go near histah of her own volition. it was god who held my knife from the throat of the old gomangani. god accomplishes strange things for he is 'all-powerful.' i cannot see him; but i know that it must be god who does these things. no mangani, no gomangani, no tarmangani could do them." and the flowers--who made them grow? ah, now it was all explained--the flowers, the trees, the moon, the sun, himself, every living creature in the jungle--they were all made by god out of nothing. and what was god? what did god look like? of that he had no conception; but he was sure that everything that was good came from god. his good act in refraining from slaying the poor, defenseless old gomangani; teeka's love that had hurled her into the embrace of death; his own loyalty to teeka which had jeopardized his life that she might live. the flowers and the trees were good and beautiful. god had made them. he made the other creatures, too, that each might have food upon which to live. he had made sheeta, the panther, with his beautiful coat; and numa, the lion, with his noble head and his shaggy mane. he had made bara, the deer, lovely and graceful. yes, tarzan had found god, and he spent the whole day in attributing to him all of the good and beautiful things of nature; but there was one thing which troubled him. he could not quite reconcile it to his conception of his new-found god. who made histah, the snake? 5 tarzan and the black boy tarzan of the apes sat at the foot of a great tree braiding a new grass rope. beside him lay the frayed remnants of the old one, torn and severed by the fangs and talons of sheeta, the panther. only half the original rope was there, the balance having been carried off by the angry cat as he bounded away through the jungle with the noose still about his savage neck and the loose end dragging among the underbrush. tarzan smiled as he recalled sheeta's great rage, his frantic efforts to free himself from the entangling strands, his uncanny screams that were part hate, part anger, part terror. he smiled in retrospection at the discomfiture of his enemy, and in anticipation of another day as he added an extra strand to his new rope. this would be the strongest, the heaviest rope that tarzan of the apes ever had fashioned. visions of numa, the lion, straining futilely in its embrace thrilled the ape-man. he was quite content, for his hands and his brain were busy. content, too, were his fellows of the tribe of kerchak, searching for food in the clearing and the surrounding trees about him. no perplexing thoughts of the future burdened their minds, and only occasionally, dimly arose recollections of the near past. they were stimulated to a species of brutal content by the delectable business of filling their bellies. afterward they would sleep--it was their life, and they enjoyed it as we enjoy ours, you and i--as tarzan enjoyed his. possibly they enjoyed theirs more than we enjoy ours, for who shall say that the beasts of the jungle do not better fulfill the purposes for which they are created than does man with his many excursions into strange fields and his contraventions of the laws of nature? and what gives greater content and greater happiness than the fulfilling of a destiny? as tarzan worked, gazan, teeka's little balu, played about him while teeka sought food upon the opposite side of the clearing. no more did teeka, the mother, or taug, the sullen sire, harbor suspicions of tarzan's intentions toward their first-born. had he not courted death to save their gazan from the fangs and talons of sheeta? did he not fondle and cuddle the little one with even as great a show of affection as teeka herself displayed? their fears were allayed and tarzan now found himself often in the role of nursemaid to a tiny anthropoid--an avocation which he found by no means irksome, since gazan was a never-failing fount of surprises and entertainment. just now the apeling was developing those arboreal tendencies which were to stand him in such good stead during the years of his youth, when rapid flight into the upper terraces was of far more importance and value than his undeveloped muscles and untried fighting fangs. backing off fifteen or twenty feet from the bole of the tree beneath the branches of which tarzan worked upon his rope, gazan scampered quickly forward, scrambling nimbly upward to the lower limbs. here he would squat for a moment or two, quite proud of his achievement, then clamber to the ground again and repeat. sometimes, quite often in fact, for he was an ape, his attention was distracted by other things, a beetle, a caterpillar, a tiny field mouse, and off he would go in pursuit; the caterpillars he always caught, and sometimes the beetles; but the field mice, never. now he discovered the tail of the rope upon which tarzan was working. grasping it in one small hand he bounced away, for all the world like an animated rubber ball, snatching it from the ape-man's hand and running off across the clearing. tarzan leaped to his feet and was in pursuit in an instant, no trace of anger on his face or in his voice as he called to the roguish little balu to drop his rope. straight toward his mother raced gazan, and after him came tarzan. teeka looked up from her feeding, and in the first instant that she realized that gazan was fleeing and that another was in pursuit, she bared her fangs and bristled; but when she saw that the pursuer was tarzan she turned back to the business that had been occupying her attention. at her very feet the ape-man overhauled the balu and, though the youngster squealed and fought when tarzan seized him, teeka only glanced casually in their direction. no longer did she fear harm to her first-born at the hands of the ape-man. had he not saved gazan on two occasions? rescuing his rope, tarzan returned to his tree and resumed his labor; but thereafter it was necessary to watch carefully the playful balu, who was now possessed to steal it whenever he thought his great, smooth-skinned cousin was momentarily off his guard. but even under this handicap tarzan finally completed the rope, a long, pliant weapon, stronger than any he ever had made before. the discarded piece of his former one he gave to gazan for a plaything, for tarzan had it in his mind to instruct teeka's balu after ideas of his own when the youngster should be old and strong enough to profit by his precepts. at present the little ape's innate aptitude for mimicry would be sufficient to familiarize him with tarzan's ways and weapons, and so the ape-man swung off into the jungle, his new rope coiled over one shoulder, while little gazan hopped about the clearing dragging the old one after him in childish glee. as tarzan traveled, dividing his quest for food with one for a sufficiently noble quarry whereupon to test his new weapon, his mind often was upon gazan. the ape-man had realized a deep affection for teeka's balu almost from the first, partly because the child belonged to teeka, his first love, and partly for the little ape's own sake, and tarzan's human longing for some sentient creature upon which to expend those natural affections of the soul which are inherent to all normal members of the genus homo. tarzan envied teeka. it was true that gazan evidenced a considerable reciprocation of tarzan's fondness for him, even preferring him to his own surly sire; but to teeka the little one turned when in pain or terror, when tired or hungry. then it was that tarzan felt quite alone in the world and longed desperately for one who should turn first to him for succor and protection. taug had teeka; teeka had gazan; and nearly every other bull and cow of the tribe of kerchak had one or more to love and by whom to be loved. of course tarzan could scarcely formulate the thought in precisely this way--he only knew that he craved something which was denied him; something which seemed to be represented by those relations which existed between teeka and her balu, and so he envied teeka and longed for a balu of his own. he saw sheeta and his mate with their little family of three; and deeper inland toward the rocky hills, where one might lie up during the heat of the day, in the dense shade of a tangled thicket close under the cool face of an overhanging rock, tarzan had found the lair of numa, the lion, and of sabor, the lioness. here he had watched them with their little balus--playful creatures, spotted leopard-like. and he had seen the young fawn with bara, the deer, and with buto, the rhinoceros, its ungainly little one. each of the creatures of the jungle had its own--except tarzan. it made the ape-man sad to think upon this thing, sad and lonely; but presently the scent of game cleared his young mind of all other considerations, as catlike he crawled far out upon a bending limb above the game trail which led down to the ancient watering place of the wild things of this wild world. how many thousands of times had this great, old limb bent to the savage form of some blood-thirsty hunter in the long years that it had spread its leafy branches above the deep-worn jungle path! tarzan, the ape-man, sheeta, the panther, and histah, the snake, it knew well. they had worn smooth the bark upon its upper surface. today it was horta, the boar, which came down toward the watcher in the old tree--horta, the boar, whose formidable tusks and diabolical temper preserved him from all but the most ferocious or most famished of the largest carnivora. but to tarzan, meat was meat; naught that was edible or tasty might pass a hungry tarzan unchallenged and unattacked. in hunger, as in battle, the ape-man out-savaged the dreariest denizens of the jungle. he knew neither fear nor mercy, except upon rare occasions when some strange, inexplicable force stayed his hand--a force inexplicable to him, perhaps, because of his ignorance of his own origin and of all the forces of humanitarianism and civilization that were his rightful heritage because of that origin. so today, instead of staying his hand until a less formidable feast found its way toward him, tarzan dropped his new noose about the neck of horta, the boar. it was an excellent test for the untried strands. the angered boar bolted this way and that; but each time the new rope held him where tarzan had made it fast about the stem of the tree above the branch from which he had cast it. as horta grunted and charged, slashing the sturdy jungle patriarch with his mighty tusks until the bark flew in every direction, tarzan dropped to the ground behind him. in the ape-man's hand was the long, keen blade that had been his constant companion since that distant day upon which chance had directed its point into the body of bolgani, the gorilla, and saved the torn and bleeding man-child from what else had been certain death. tarzan walked in toward horta, who swung now to face his enemy. mighty and muscled as was the young giant, it yet would have appeared but the maddest folly for him to face so formidable a creature as horta, the boar, armed only with a slender hunting knife. so it would have seemed to one who knew horta even slightly and tarzan not at all. for a moment horta stood motionless facing the ape-man. his wicked, deep-set eyes flashed angrily. he shook his lowered head. "mud-eater!" jeered the ape-man. "wallower in filth. even your meat stinks, but it is juicy and makes tarzan strong. today i shall eat your heart, o lord of the great tusks, that it shall keep savage that which pounds against my own ribs." horta, understanding nothing of what tarzan said, was none the less enraged because of that. he saw only a naked man-thing, hairless and futile, pitting his puny fangs and soft muscles against his own indomitable savagery, and he charged. tarzan of the apes waited until the upcut of a wicked tusk would have laid open his thigh, then he moved--just the least bit to one side; but so quickly that lightning was a sluggard by comparison, and as he moved, he stooped low and with all the great power of his right arm drove the long blade of his father's hunting knife straight into the heart of horta, the boar. a quick leap carried him from the zone of the creature's death throes, and a moment later the hot and dripping heart of horta was in his grasp. his hunger satisfied, tarzan did not seek a lying-up place for sleep, as was sometimes his way, but continued on through the jungle more in search of adventure than of food, for today he was restless. and so it came that he turned his footsteps toward the village of mbonga, the black chief, whose people tarzan had baited remorselessly since that day upon which kulonga, the chief's son, had slain kala. a river winds close beside the village of the black men. tarzan reached its side a little below the clearing where squat the thatched huts of the negroes. the river life was ever fascinating to the ape-man. he found pleasure in watching the ungainly antics of duro, the hippopotamus, and keen sport in tormenting the sluggish crocodile, gimla, as he basked in the sun. then, too, there were the shes and the balus of the black men of the gomangani to frighten as they squatted by the river, the shes with their meager washing, the balus with their primitive toys. this day he came upon a woman and her child farther down stream than usual. the former was searching for a species of shellfish which was to be found in the mud close to the river bank. she was a young black woman of about thirty. her teeth were filed to sharp points, for her people ate the flesh of man. her under lip was slit that it might support a rude pendant of copper which she had worn for so many years that the lip had been dragged downward to prodigious lengths, exposing the teeth and gums of her lower jaw. her nose, too, was slit, and through the slit was a wooden skewer. metal ornaments dangled from her ears, and upon her forehead and cheeks; upon her chin and the bridge of her nose were tattooings in colors that were mellowed now by age. she was naked except for a girdle of grasses about her waist. altogether she was very beautiful in her own estimation and even in the estimation of the men of mbonga's tribe, though she was of another people--a trophy of war seized in her maidenhood by one of mbonga's fighting men. her child was a boy of ten, lithe, straight and, for a black, handsome. tarzan looked upon the two from the concealing foliage of a near-by bush. he was about to leap forth before them with a terrifying scream, that he might enjoy the spectacle of their terror and their incontinent flight; but of a sudden a new whim seized him. here was a balu fashioned as he himself was fashioned. of course this one's skin was black; but what of it? tarzan had never seen a white man. in so far as he knew, he was the sole representative of that strange form of life upon the earth. the black boy should make an excellent balu for tarzan, since he had none of his own. he would tend him carefully, feed him well, protect him as only tarzan of the apes could protect his own, and teach him out of his half human, half bestial lore the secrets of the jungle from its rotting surface vegetation to the high tossed pinnacles of the forest's upper terraces. * * * tarzan uncoiled his rope, and shook out the noose. the two before him, all ignorant of the near presence of that terrifying form, continued preoccupied in the search for shellfish, poking about in the mud with short sticks. tarzan stepped from the jungle behind them; his noose lay open upon the ground beside him. there was a quick movement of the right arm and the noose rose gracefully into the air, hovered an instant above the head of the unsuspecting youth, then settled. as it encompassed his body below the shoulders, tarzan gave a quick jerk that tightened it about the boy's arms, pinioning them to his sides. a scream of terror broke from the lad's lips, and as his mother turned, affrighted at his cry, she saw him being dragged quickly toward a great white giant who stood just beneath the shade of a near-by tree, scarcely a dozen long paces from her. with a savage cry of terror and rage, the woman leaped fearlessly toward the ape-man. in her mien tarzan saw determination and courage which would shrink not even from death itself. she was very hideous and frightful even when her face was in repose; but convulsed by passion, her expression became terrifyingly fiendish. even the ape-man drew back, but more in revulsion than fear--fear he knew not. biting and kicking was the black she's balu as tarzan tucked him beneath his arm and vanished into the branches hanging low above him, just as the infuriated mother dashed forward to seize and do battle with him. and as he melted away into the depth of the jungle with his still struggling prize, he meditated upon the possibilities which might lie in the prowess of the gomangani were the hes as formidable as the shes. once at a safe distance from the despoiled mother and out of earshot of her screams and menaces, tarzan paused to inspect his prize, now so thoroughly terrorized that he had ceased his struggles and his outcries. the frightened child rolled his eyes fearfully toward his captor, until the whites showed gleaming all about the irises. "i am tarzan," said the ape-man, in the vernacular of the anthropoids. "i will not harm you. you are to be tarzan's balu. tarzan will protect you. he will feed you. the best in the jungle shall be for tarzan's balu, for tarzan is a mighty hunter. none need you fear, not even numa, the lion, for tarzan is a mighty fighter. none so great as tarzan, son of kala. do not fear." but the child only whimpered and trembled, for he did not understand the tongue of the great apes, and the voice of tarzan sounded to him like the barking and growling of a beast. then, too, he had heard stories of this bad, white forest god. it was he who had slain kulonga and others of the warriors of mbonga, the chief. it was he who entered the village stealthily, by magic, in the darkness of the night, to steal arrows and poison, and frighten the women and the children and even the great warriors. doubtless this wicked god fed upon little boys. had his mother not said as much when he was naughty and she threatened to give him to the white god of the jungle if he were not good? little black tibo shook as with ague. "are you cold, go-bu-balu?" asked tarzan, using the simian equivalent of black he-baby in lieu of a better name. "the sun is hot; why do you shiver?" tibo could not understand; but he cried for his mamma and begged the great, white god to let him go, promising always to be a good boy thereafter if his plea were granted. tarzan shook his head. not a word could he understand. this would never do! he must teach go-bu-balu a language which sounded like talk. it was quite certain to tarzan that go-bu-balu's speech was not talk at all. it sounded quite as senseless as the chattering of the silly birds. it would be best, thought the ape-man, quickly to get him among the tribe of kerchak where he would hear the mangani talking among themselves. thus he would soon learn an intelligible form of speech. tarzan rose to his feet upon the swaying branch where he had halted far above the ground, and motioned to the child to follow him; but tibo only clung tightly to the bole of the tree and wept. being a boy, and a native african, he had, of course, climbed into trees many times before this; but the idea of racing off through the forest, leaping from one branch to another, as his captor, to his horror, had done when he had carried tibo away from his mother, filled his childish heart with terror. tarzan sighed. his newly acquired balu had much indeed to learn. it was pitiful that a balu of his size and strength should be so backward. he tried to coax tibo to follow him; but the child dared not, so tarzan picked him up and carried him upon his back. tibo no longer scratched or bit. escape seemed impossible. even now, were he set upon the ground, the chance was remote, he knew, that he could find his way back to the village of mbonga, the chief. even if he could, there were the lions and the leopards and the hyenas, any one of which, as tibo was well aware, was particularly fond of the meat of little black boys. so far the terrible white god of the jungle had offered him no harm. he could not expect even this much consideration from the frightful, green-eyed man-eaters. it would be the lesser of two evils, then, to let the white god carry him away without scratching and biting, as he had done at first. as tarzan swung rapidly through the trees, little tibo closed his eyes in terror rather than look longer down into the frightful abysses beneath. never before in all his life had tibo been so frightened, yet as the white giant sped on with him through the forest there stole over the child an inexplicable sensation of security as he saw how true were the leaps of the ape-man, how unerring his grasp upon the swaying limbs which gave him hand-hold, and then, too, there was safety in the middle terraces of the forest, far above the reach of the dreaded lions. and so tarzan came to the clearing where the tribe fed, dropping among them with his new balu clinging tightly to his shoulders. he was fairly in the midst of them before tibo spied a single one of the great hairy forms, or before the apes realized that tarzan was not alone. when they saw the little gomangani perched upon his back some of them came forward in curiosity with upcurled lips and snarling mien. an hour before little tibo would have said that he knew the uttermost depths of fear; but now, as he saw these fearsome beasts surrounding him, he realized that all that had gone before was as nothing by comparison. why did the great white giant stand there so unconcernedly? why did he not flee before these horrid, hairy, tree men fell upon them both and tore them to pieces? and then there came to tibo a numbing recollection. it was none other than the story he had heard passed from mouth to mouth, fearfully, by the people of mbonga, the chief, that this great white demon of the jungle was naught other than a hairless ape, for had not he been seen in company with these? tibo could only stare in wide-eyed horror at the approaching apes. he saw their beetling brows, their great fangs, their wicked eyes. he noted their mighty muscles rolling beneath their shaggy hides. their every attitude and expression was a menace. tarzan saw this, too. he drew tibo around in front of him. "this is tarzan's go-bu-balu," he said. "do not harm him, or tarzan will kill you," and he bared his own fangs in the teeth of the nearest ape. "it is a gomangani," replied the ape. "let me kill it. it is a gomangani. the gomangani are our enemies. let me kill it." "go away," snarled tarzan. "i tell you, gunto, it is tarzan's balu. go away or tarzan will kill you," and the ape-man took a step toward the advancing ape. the latter sidled off, quite stiff and haughty, after the manner of a dog which meets another and is too proud to fight and too fearful to turn his back and run. next came teeka, prompted by curiosity. at her side skipped little gazan. they were filled with wonder like the others; but teeka did not bare her fangs. tarzan saw this and motioned that she approach. "tarzan has a balu now," he said. "he and teeka's balu can play together." "it is a gomangani," replied teeka. "it will kill my balu. take it away, tarzan." tarzan laughed. "it could not harm pamba, the rat," he said. "it is but a little balu and very frightened. let gazan play with it." teeka still was fearful, for with all their mighty ferocity the great anthropoids are timid; but at last, assured by her great confidence in tarzan, she pushed gazan forward toward the little black boy. the small ape, guided by instinct, drew back toward its mother, baring its small fangs and screaming in mingled fear and rage. tibo, too, showed no signs of desiring a closer acquaintance with gazan, so tarzan gave up his efforts for the time. during the week which followed, tarzan found his time much occupied. his balu was a greater responsibility than he had counted upon. not for a moment did he dare leave it, since of all the tribe, teeka alone could have been depended upon to refrain from slaying the hapless black had it not been for tarzan's constant watchfulness. when the ape-man hunted, he must carry go-bu-balu about with him. it was irksome, and then the little black seemed so stupid and fearful to tarzan. it was quite helpless against even the lesser of the jungle creatures. tarzan wondered how it had survived at all. he tried to teach it, and found a ray of hope in the fact that go-bu-balu had mastered a few words of the language of the anthropoids, and that he could now cling to a high-tossed branch without screaming in fear; but there was something about the child which worried tarzan. he often had watched the blacks within their village. he had seen the children playing, and always there had been much laughter; but little go-bu-balu never laughed. it was true that tarzan himself never laughed. upon occasion he smiled, grimly, but to laughter he was a stranger. the black, however, should have laughed, reasoned the ape-man. it was the way of the gomangani. also, he saw that the little fellow often refused food and was growing thinner day by day. at times he surprised the boy sobbing softly to himself. tarzan tried to comfort him, even as fierce kala had comforted tarzan when the ape-man was a balu, but all to no avail. go-bu-balu merely no longer feared tarzan--that was all. he feared every other living thing within the jungle. he feared the jungle days with their long excursions through the dizzy tree tops. he feared the jungle nights with their swaying, perilous couches far above the ground, and the grunting and coughing of the great carnivora prowling beneath him. tarzan did not know what to do. his heritage of english blood rendered it a difficult thing even to consider a surrender of his project, though he was forced to admit to himself that his balu was not all that he had hoped. though he was faithful to his self-imposed task, and even found that he had grown to like go-bu-balu, he could not deceive himself into believing that he felt for it that fierce heat of passionate affection which teeka revealed for gazan, and which the black mother had shown for go-bu-balu. the little black boy from cringing terror at the sight of tarzan passed by degrees into trustfulness and admiration. only kindness had he ever received at the hands of the great white devil-god, yet he had seen with what ferocity his kindly captor could deal with others. he had seen him leap upon a certain he-ape which persisted in attempting to seize and slay go-bu-balu. he had seen the strong, white teeth of the ape-man fastened in the neck of his adversary, and the mighty muscles tensed in battle. he had heard the savage, bestial snarls and roars of combat, and he had realized with a shudder that he could not differentiate between those of his guardian and those of the hairy ape. he had seen tarzan bring down a buck, just as numa, the lion, might have done, leaping upon its back and fastening his fangs in the creature's neck. tibo had shuddered at the sight, but he had thrilled, too, and for the first time there entered his dull, negroid mind a vague desire to emulate his savage foster parent. but tibo, the little black boy, lacked the divine spark which had permitted tarzan, the white boy, to benefit by his training in the ways of the fierce jungle. in imagination he was wanting, and imagination is but another name for super-intelligence. imagination it is which builds bridges, and cities, and empires. the beasts know it not, the blacks only a little, while to one in a hundred thousand of earth's dominant race it is given as a gift from heaven that man may not perish from the earth. while tarzan pondered his problem concerning the future of his balu, fate was arranging to take the matter out of his hands. momaya, tibo's mother, grief-stricken at the loss of her boy, had consulted the tribal witch-doctor, but to no avail. the medicine he made was not good medicine, for though momaya paid him two goats for it, it did not bring back tibo, nor even indicate where she might search for him with reasonable assurance of finding him. momaya, being of a short temper and of another people, had little respect for the witch-doctor of her husband's tribe, and so, when he suggested that a further payment of two more fat goats would doubtless enable him to make stronger medicine, she promptly loosed her shrewish tongue upon him, and with such good effect that he was glad to take himself off with his zebra's tail and his pot of magic. when he had gone and momaya had succeeded in partially subduing her anger, she gave herself over to thought, as she so often had done since the abduction of her tibo, in the hope that she finally might discover some feasible means of locating him, or at least assuring herself as to whether he were alive or dead. it was known to the blacks that tarzan did not eat the flesh of man, for he had slain more than one of their number, yet never tasted the flesh of any. too, the bodies always had been found, sometimes dropping as though from the clouds to alight in the center of the village. as tibo's body had not been found, momaya argued that he still lived, but where? then it was that there came to her mind a recollection of bukawai, the unclean, who dwelt in a cave in the hillside to the north, and who it was well known entertained devils in his evil lair. few, if any, had the temerity to visit old bukawai, firstly because of fear of his black magic and the two hyenas who dwelt with him and were commonly known to be devils masquerading, and secondly because of the loathsome disease which had caused bukawai to be an outcast--a disease which was slowly eating away his face. now it was that momaya reasoned shrewdly that if any might know the whereabouts of her tibo, it would be bukawai, who was in friendly intercourse with gods and demons, since a demon or a god it was who had stolen her baby; but even her great mother love was sorely taxed to find the courage to send her forth into the black jungle toward the distant hills and the uncanny abode of bukawai, the unclean, and his devils. mother love, however, is one of the human passions which closely approximates to the dignity of an irresistible force. it drives the frail flesh of weak women to deeds of heroic measure. momaya was neither frail nor weak, physically, but she was a woman, an ignorant, superstitious, african savage. she believed in devils, in black magic, and in witchcraft. to momaya, the jungle was inhabited by far more terrifying things than lions and leopards--horrifying, nameless things which possessed the power of wreaking frightful harm under various innocent guises. from one of the warriors of the village, whom she knew to have once stumbled upon the lair of bukawai, the mother of tibo learned how she might find it--near a spring of water which rose in a small rocky canyon between two hills, the easternmost of which was easily recognizable because of a huge granite boulder which rested upon its summit. the westerly hill was lower than its companion, and was quite bare of vegetation except for a single mimosa tree which grew just a little below its summit. these two hills, the man assured her, could be seen for some distance before she reached them, and together formed an excellent guide to her destination. he warned her, however, to abandon so foolish and dangerous an adventure, emphasizing what she already quite well knew, that if she escaped harm at the hands of bukawai and his demons, the chances were that she would not be so fortunate with the great carnivora of the jungle through which she must pass going and returning. the warrior even went to momaya's husband, who, in turn, having little authority over the vixenish lady of his choice, went to mbonga, the chief. the latter summoned momaya, threatening her with the direst punishment should she venture forth upon so unholy an excursion. the old chief's interest in the matter was due solely to that age-old alliance which exists between church and state. the local witch-doctor, knowing his own medicine better than any other knew it, was jealous of all other pretenders to accomplishments in the black art. he long had heard of the power of bukawai, and feared lest, should he succeed in recovering momaya's lost child, much of the tribal patronage and consequent fees would be diverted to the unclean one. as mbonga received, as chief, a certain proportion of the witch-doctor's fees and could expect nothing from bukawai, his heart and soul were, quite naturally, wrapped up in the orthodox church. but if momaya could view with intrepid heart an excursion into the jungle and a visit to the fear-haunted abode of bukawai, she was not likely to be deterred by threats of future punishment at the hands of old mbonga, whom she secretly despised. yet she appeared to accede to his injunctions, returning to her hut in silence. she would have preferred starting upon her quest by day-light, but this was now out of the question, since she must carry food and a weapon of some sort--things which she never could pass out of the village with by day without being subjected to curious questioning that surely would come immediately to the ears of mbonga. so momaya bided her time until night, and just before the gates of the village were closed, she slipped through into the darkness and the jungle. she was much frightened, but she set her face resolutely toward the north, and though she paused often to listen, breathlessly, for the huge cats which, here, were her greatest terror, she nevertheless continued her way staunchly for several hours, until a low moan a little to her right and behind her brought her to a sudden stop. with palpitating heart the woman stood, scarce daring to breathe, and then, very faintly but unmistakable to her keen ears, came the stealthy crunching of twigs and grasses beneath padded feet. all about momaya grew the giant trees of the tropical jungle, festooned with hanging vines and mosses. she seized upon the nearest and started to clamber, apelike, to the branches above. as she did so, there was a sudden rush of a great body behind her, a menacing roar that caused the earth to tremble, and something crashed into the very creepers to which she was clinging--but below her. momaya drew herself to safety among the leafy branches and thanked the foresight which had prompted her to bring along the dried human ear which hung from a cord about her neck. she always had known that that ear was good medicine. it had been given her, when a girl, by the witch-doctor of her town tribe, and was nothing like the poor, weak medicine of mbonga's witch-doctor. all night momaya clung to her perch, for although the lion sought other prey after a short time, she dared not descend into the darkness again, for fear she might encounter him or another of his kind; but at daylight she clambered down and resumed her way. tarzan of the apes, finding that his balu never ceased to give evidence of terror in the presence of the apes of the tribe, and also that most of the adult apes were a constant menace to go-bu-balu's life, so that tarzan dared not leave him alone with them, took to hunting with the little black boy farther and farther from the stamping grounds of the anthropoids. little by little his absences from the tribe grew in length as he wandered farther away from them, until finally he found himself a greater distance to the north than he ever before had hunted, and with water and ample game and fruit, he felt not at all inclined to return to the tribe. little go-bu-balu gave evidences of a greater interest in life, an interest which varied in direct proportion to the distance he was from the apes of kerchak. he now trotted along behind tarzan when the ape-man went upon the ground, and in the trees he even did his best to follow his mighty foster parent. the boy was still sad and lonely. his thin, little body had grown steadily thinner since he had come among the apes, for while, as a young cannibal, he was not overnice in the matter of diet, he found it not always to his taste to stomach the weird things which tickled the palates of epicures among the apes. his large eyes were very large indeed now, his cheeks sunken, and every rib of his emaciated body plainly discernible to whomsoever should care to count them. constant terror, perhaps, had had as much to do with his physical condition as had improper food. tarzan noticed the change and was worried. he had hoped to see his balu wax sturdy and strong. his disappointment was great. in only one respect did go-bu-balu seem to progress--he readily was mastering the language of the apes. even now he and tarzan could converse in a fairly satisfactory manner by supplementing the meager ape speech with signs; but for the most part, go-bu-balu was silent other than to answer questions put to him. his great sorrow was yet too new and too poignant to be laid aside even momentarily. always he pined for momaya--shrewish, hideous, repulsive, perhaps, she would have been to you or me, but to tibo she was mamma, the personification of that one great love which knows no selfishness and which does not consume itself in its own fires. as the two hunted, or rather as tarzan hunted and go-bu-balu tagged along in his wake, the ape-man noticed many things and thought much. once they came upon sabor moaning in the tall grasses. about her romped and played two little balls of fur, but her eyes were for one which lay between her great forepaws and did not romp, one who never would romp again. tarzan read aright the anguish and the suffering of the huge mother cat. he had been minded to bait her. it was to do this that he had sneaked silently through the trees until he had come almost above her, but something held the ape-man as he saw the lioness grieving over her dead cub. with the acquisition of go-bu-balu, tarzan had come to realize the responsibilities and sorrows of parentage, without its joys. his heart went out to sabor as it might not have done a few weeks before. as he watched her, there rose quite unbidden before him a vision of momaya, the skewer through the septum of her nose, her pendulous under lip sagging beneath the weight which dragged it down. tarzan saw not her unloveliness; he saw only the same anguish that was sabor's, and he winced. that strange functioning of the mind which sometimes is called association of ideas snapped teeka and gazan before the ape-man's mental vision. what if one should come and take gazan from teeka. tarzan uttered a low and ominous growl as though gazan were his own. go-bu-balu glanced here and there apprehensively, thinking that tarzan had espied an enemy. sabor sprang suddenly to her feet, her yellow-green eyes blazing, her tail lashing as she cocked her ears, and raising her muzzle, sniffed the air for possible danger. the two little cubs, which had been playing, scampered quickly to her, and standing beneath her, peered out from between her forelegs, their big ears upstanding, their little heads cocked first upon one side and then upon the other. with a shake of his black shock, tarzan turned away and resumed his hunting in another direction; but all day there rose one after another, above the threshold of his objective mind, memory portraits of sabor, of momaya, and of teeka--a lioness, a cannibal, and a she-ape, yet to the ape-man they were identical through motherhood. it was noon of the third day when momaya came within sight of the cave of bukawai, the unclean. the old witch-doctor had rigged a framework of interlaced boughs to close the mouth of the cave from predatory beasts. this was now set to one side, and the black cavern beyond yawned mysterious and repellent. momaya shivered as from a cold wind of the rainy season. no sign of life appeared about the cave, yet momaya experienced that uncanny sensation as of unseen eyes regarding her malevolently. again she shuddered. she tried to force her unwilling feet onward toward the cave, when from its depths issued an uncanny sound that was neither brute nor human, a weird sound that was akin to mirthless laughter. with a stifled scream, momaya turned and fled into the jungle. for a hundred yards she ran before she could control her terror, and then she paused, listening. was all her labor, were all the terrors and dangers through which she had passed to go for naught? she tried to steel herself to return to the cave, but again fright overcame her. saddened, disheartened, she turned slowly upon the back trail toward the village of mbonga. her young shoulders now were drooped like those of an old woman who bears a great burden of many years with their accumulated pains and sorrows, and she walked with tired feet and a halting step. the spring of youth was gone from momaya. for another hundred yards she dragged her weary way, her brain half paralyzed from dumb terror and suffering, and then there came to her the memory of a little babe that suckled at her breast, and of a slim boy who romped, laughing, about her, and they were both tibo--her tibo! her shoulders straightened. she shook her savage head, and she turned about and walked boldly back to the mouth of the cave of bukawai, the unclean--of bukawai, the witch-doctor. again, from the interior of the cave came the hideous laughter that was not laughter. this time momaya recognized it for what it was, the strange cry of a hyena. no more did she shudder, but she held her spear ready and called aloud to bukawai to come out. instead of bukawai came the repulsive head of a hyena. momaya poked at it with her spear, and the ugly, sullen brute drew back with an angry growl. again momaya called bukawai by name, and this time there came an answer in mumbling tones that were scarce more human than those of the beast. "who comes to bukawai?" queried the voice. "it is momaya," replied the woman; "momaya from the village of mbonga, the chief. "what do you want?" "i want good medicine, better medicine than mbonga's witch-doctor can make," replied momaya. "the great, white, jungle god has stolen my tibo, and i want medicine to bring him back, or to find where he is hidden that i may go and get him." "who is tibo?" asked bukawai. momaya told him. "bukawai's medicine is very strong," said the voice. "five goats and a new sleeping mat are scarce enough in exchange for bukawai's medicine." "two goats are enough," said momaya, for the spirit of barter is strong in the breasts of the blacks. the pleasure of haggling over the price was a sufficiently potent lure to draw bukawai to the mouth of the cave. momaya was sorry when she saw him that he had not remained within. there are some things too horrible, too hideous, too repulsive for description--bukawai's face was of these. when momaya saw him she understood why it was that he was almost inarticulate. beside him were two hyenas, which rumor had said were his only and constant companions. they made an excellent trio--the most repulsive of beasts with the most repulsive of humans. "five goats and a new sleeping mat," mumbled bukawai. "two fat goats and a sleeping mat." momaya raised her bid; but bukawai was obdurate. he stuck for the five goats and the sleeping mat for a matter of half an hour, while the hyenas sniffed and growled and laughed hideously. momaya was determined to give all that bukawai asked if she could do no better, but haggling is second nature to black barterers, and in the end it partly repaid her, for a compromise finally was reached which included three fat goats, a new sleeping mat, and a piece of copper wire. "come back tonight," said bukawai, "when the moon is two hours in the sky. then will i make the strong medicine which shall bring tibo back to you. bring with you the three fat goats, the new sleeping mat, and the piece of copper wire the length of a large man's forearm." "i cannot bring them," said momaya. "you will have to come after them. when you have restored tibo to me, you shall have them all at the village of mbonga." bukawai shook his head. "i will make no medicine," he said, "until i have the goats and the mat and the copper wire." momaya pleaded and threatened, but all to no avail. finally, she turned away and started off through the jungle toward the village of mbonga. how she could get three goats and a sleeping mat out of the village and through the jungle to the cave of bukawai, she did not know, but that she would do it somehow she was quite positive--she would do it or die. tibo must be restored to her. tarzan coming lazily through the jungle with little go-bu-balu, caught the scent of bara, the deer. tarzan hungered for the flesh of bara. naught tickled his palate so greatly; but to stalk bara with go-bu-balu at his heels, was out of the question, so he hid the child in the crotch of a tree where the thick foliage screened him from view, and set off swiftly and silently upon the spoor of bara. tibo alone was more terrified than tibo even among the apes. real and apparent dangers are less disconcerting than those which we imagine, and only the gods of his people knew how much tibo imagined. he had been but a short time in his hiding place when he heard something approaching through the jungle. he crouched closer to the limb upon which he lay and prayed that tarzan would return quickly. his wide eyes searched the jungle in the direction of the moving creature. what if it was a leopard that had caught his scent! it would be upon him in a minute. hot tears flowed from the large eyes of little tibo. the curtain of jungle foliage rustled close at hand. the thing was but a few paces from his tree! his eyes fairly popped from his black face as he watched for the appearance of the dread creature which presently would thrust a snarling countenance from between the vines and creepers. and then the curtain parted and a woman stepped into full view. with a gasping cry, tibo tumbled from his perch and raced toward her. momaya suddenly started back and raised her spear, but a second later she cast it aside and caught the thin body in her strong arms. crushing it to her, she cried and laughed all at one and the same time, and hot tears of joy, mingled with the tears of tibo, trickled down the crease between her naked breasts. disturbed by the noise so close at hand, there arose from his sleep in a near-by thicket numa, the lion. he looked through the tangled underbrush and saw the black woman and her young. he licked his chops and measured the distance between them and himself. a short charge and a long leap would carry him upon them. he flicked the end of his tail and sighed. a vagrant breeze, swirling suddenly in the wrong direction, carried the scent of tarzan to the sensitive nostrils of bara, the deer. there was a startled tensing of muscles and cocking of ears, a sudden dash, and tarzan's meat was gone. the ape-man angrily shook his head and turned back toward the spot where he had left go-bu-balu. he came softly, as was his way. before he reached the spot he heard strange sounds--the sound of a woman laughing and of a woman weeping, and the two which seemed to come from one throat were mingled with the convulsive sobbing of a child. tarzan hastened, and when tarzan hastened, only the birds and the wind went faster. and as tarzan approached the sounds, he heard another, a deep sigh. momaya did not hear it, nor did tibo; but the ears of tarzan were as the ears of bara, the deer. he heard the sigh, and he knew, so he unloosed the heavy spear which dangled at his back. even as he sped through the branches of the trees, with the same ease that you or i might take out a pocket handkerchief as we strolled nonchalantly down a lazy country lane, tarzan of the apes took the spear from its thong that it might be ready against any emergency. numa, the lion, did not rush madly to attack. he reasoned again, and reason told him that already the prey was his, so he pushed his great bulk through the foliage and stood eyeing his meat with baleful, glaring eyes. momaya saw him and shrieked, drawing tibo closer to her breast. to have found her child and to lose him, all in a moment! she raised her spear, throwing her hand far back of her shoulder. numa roared and stepped slowly forward. momaya cast her weapon. it grazed the tawny shoulder, inflicting a flesh wound which aroused all the terrific bestiality of the carnivore, and the lion charged. momaya tried to close her eyes, but could not. she saw the flashing swiftness of the huge, oncoming death, and then she saw something else. she saw a mighty, naked white man drop as from the heavens into the path of the charging lion. she saw the muscles of a great arm flash in the light of the equatorial sun as it filtered, dappling, through the foliage above. she saw a heavy hunting spear hurtle through the air to meet the lion in midleap. numa brought up upon his haunches, roaring terribly and striking at the spear which protruded from his breast. his great blows bent and twisted the weapon. tarzan, crouching and with hunting knife in hand, circled warily about the frenzied cat. momaya, wide-eyed, stood rooted to the spot, watching, fascinated. in sudden fury numa hurled himself toward the ape-man, but the wiry creature eluded the blundering charge, side-stepping quickly only to rush in upon his foe. twice the hunting blade flashed in the air. twice it fell upon the back of numa, already weakening from the spear point so near his heart. the second stroke of the blade pierced far into the beast's spine, and with a last convulsive sweep of the fore-paws, in a vain attempt to reach his tormentor, numa sprawled upon the ground, paralyzed and dying. bukawai, fearful lest he should lose any recompense, followed momaya with the intention of persuading her to part with her ornaments of copper and iron against her return with the price of the medicine--to pay, as it were, for an option on his services as one pays a retaining fee to an attorney, for, like an attorney, bukawai knew the value of his medicine and that it was well to collect as much as possible in advance. the witch-doctor came upon the scene as tarzan leaped to meet the lion's charge. he saw it all and marveled, guessing immediately that this must be the strange white demon concerning whom he had heard vague rumors before momaya came to him. momaya, now that the lion was past harming her or hers, gazed with new terror upon tarzan. it was he who had stolen her tibo. doubtless he would attempt to steal him again. momaya hugged the boy close to her. she was determined to die this time rather than suffer tibo to be taken from her again. tarzan eyed them in silence. the sight of the boy clinging, sobbing, to his mother aroused within his savage breast a melancholy loneliness. there was none thus to cling to tarzan, who yearned so for the love of someone, of something. at last tibo looked up, because of the quiet that had fallen upon the jungle, and saw tarzan. he did not shrink. "tarzan," he said, in the speech of the great apes of the tribe of kerchak, "do not take me from momaya, my mother. do not take me again to the lair of the hairy, tree men, for i fear taug and gunto and the others. let me stay with momaya, o tarzan, god of the jungle! let me stay with momaya, my mother, and to the end of our days we will bless you and put food before the gates of the village of mbonga that you may never hunger." tarzan sighed. "go," he said, "back to the village of mbonga, and tarzan will follow to see that no harm befalls you." tibo translated the words to his mother, and the two turned their backs upon the ape-man and started off toward home. in the heart of momaya was a great fear and a great exultation, for never before had she walked with god, and never had she been so happy. she strained little tibo to her, stroking his thin cheek. tarzan saw and sighed again. "for teeka there is teeka's balu," he soliloquized; "for sabor there are balus, and for the she-gomangani, and for bara, and for manu, and even for pamba, the rat; but for tarzan there can be none--neither a she nor a balu. tarzan of the apes is a man, and it must be that man walks alone." bukawai saw them go, and he mumbled through his rotting face, swearing a great oath that he would yet have the three fat goats, the new sleeping mat, and the bit of copper wire. 6 the witch-doctor seeks vengeance lord greystoke was hunting, or, to be more accurate, he was shooting pheasants at chamston-hedding. lord greystoke was immaculately and appropriately garbed--to the minutest detail he was vogue. to be sure, he was among the forward guns, not being considered a sporting shot, but what he lacked in skill he more than made up in appearance. at the end of the day he would, doubtless, have many birds to his credit, since he had two guns and a smart loader--many more birds than he could eat in a year, even had he been hungry, which he was not, having but just arisen from the breakfast table. the beaters--there were twenty-three of them, in white smocks--had but just driven the birds into a patch of gorse, and were now circling to the opposite side that they might drive down toward the guns. lord greystoke was quite as excited as he ever permitted himself to become. there was an exhilaration in the sport that would not be denied. he felt his blood tingling through his veins as the beaters approached closer and closer to the birds. in a vague and stupid sort of way lord greystoke felt, as he always felt upon such occasions, that he was experiencing a sensation somewhat akin to a reversion to a prehistoric type--that the blood of an ancient forbear was coursing hot through him, a hairy, half-naked forbear who had lived by the hunt. and far away in a matted equatorial jungle another lord greystoke, the real lord greystoke, hunted. by the standards which he knew, he, too, was vogue--utterly vogue, as was the primal ancestor before the first eviction. the day being sultry, the leopard skin had been left behind. the real lord greystoke had not two guns, to be sure, nor even one, neither did he have a smart loader; but he possessed something infinitely more efficacious than guns, or loaders, or even twenty-three beaters in white smocks--he possessed an appetite, an uncanny woodcraft, and muscles that were as steel springs. later that day, in england, a lord greystoke ate bountifully of things he had not killed, and he drank other things which were uncorked to the accompaniment of much noise. he patted his lips with snowy linen to remove the faint traces of his repast, quite ignorant of the fact that he was an impostor and that the rightful owner of his noble title was even then finishing his own dinner in far-off africa. he was not using snowy linen, though. instead he drew the back of a brown forearm and hand across his mouth and wiped his bloody fingers upon his thighs. then he moved slowly through the jungle to the drinking place, where, upon all fours, he drank as drank his fellows, the other beasts of the jungle. as he quenched his thirst, another denizen of the gloomy forest approached the stream along the path behind him. it was numa, the lion, tawny of body and black of mane, scowling and sinister, rumbling out low, coughing roars. tarzan of the apes heard him long before he came within sight, but the ape-man went on with his drinking until he had had his fill; then he arose, slowly, with the easy grace of a creature of the wilds and all the quiet dignity that was his birthright. numa halted as he saw the man standing at the very spot where the king would drink. his jaws were parted, and his cruel eyes gleamed. he growled and advanced slowly. the man growled, too, backing slowly to one side, and watching, not the lion's face, but its tail. should that commence to move from side to side in quick, nervous jerks, it would be well to be upon the alert, and should it rise suddenly erect, straight and stiff, then one might prepare to fight or flee; but it did neither, so tarzan merely backed away and the lion came down and drank scarce fifty feet from where the man stood. tomorrow they might be at one another's throats, but today there existed one of those strange and inexplicable truces which so often are seen among the savage ones of the jungle. before numa had finished drinking, tarzan had returned into the forest, and was swinging away in the direction of the village of mbonga, the black chief. it had been at least a moon since the ape-man had called upon the gomangani. not since he had restored little tibo to his grief-stricken mother had the whim seized him to do so. the incident of the adopted balu was a closed one to tarzan. he had sought to find something upon which to lavish such an affection as teeka lavished upon her balu, but a short experience of the little black boy had made it quite plain to the ape-man that no such sentiment could exist between them. the fact that he had for a time treated the little black as he might have treated a real balu of his own had in no way altered the vengeful sentiments with which he considered the murderers of kala. the gomangani were his deadly enemies, nor could they ever be aught else. today he looked forward to some slight relief from the monotony of his existence in such excitement as he might derive from baiting the blacks. it was not yet dark when he reached the village and took his place in the great tree overhanging the palisade. from beneath came a great wailing out of the depths of a near-by hut. the noise fell disagreeably upon tarzan's ears--it jarred and grated. he did not like it, so he decided to go away for a while in the hopes that it might cease; but though he was gone for a couple of hours the wailing still continued when he returned. with the intention of putting a violent termination to the annoying sound, tarzan slipped silently from the tree into the shadows beneath. creeping stealthily and keeping well in the cover of other huts, he approached that from which rose the sounds of lamentation. a fire burned brightly before the doorway as it did before other doorways in the village. a few females squatted about, occasionally adding their own mournful howlings to those of the master artist within. the ape-man smiled a slow smile as he thought of the consternation which would follow the quick leap that would carry him among the females and into the full light of the fire. then he would dart into the hut during the excitement, throttle the chief screamer, and be gone into the jungle before the blacks could gather their scattered nerves for an assault. many times had tarzan behaved similarly in the village of mbonga, the chief. his mysterious and unexpected appearances always filled the breasts of the poor, superstitious blacks with the panic of terror; never, it seemed, could they accustom themselves to the sight of him. it was this terror which lent to the adventures the spice of interest and amusement which the human mind of the ape-man craved. merely to kill was not in itself sufficient. accustomed to the sight of death, tarzan found no great pleasure in it. long since had he avenged the death of kala, but in the accomplishment of it, he had learned the excitement and the pleasure to be derived from the baiting of the blacks. of this he never tired. it was just as he was about to spring forward with a savage roar that a figure appeared in the doorway of the hut. it was the figure of the wailer whom he had come to still, the figure of a young woman with a wooden skewer through the split septum of her nose, with a heavy metal ornament depending from her lower lip, which it had dragged down to hideous and repulsive deformity, with strange tattooing upon forehead, cheeks, and breasts, and a wonderful coiffure built up with mud and wire. a sudden flare of the fire threw the grotesque figure into high relief, and tarzan recognized her as momaya, the mother of tibo. the fire also threw out a fitful flame which carried to the shadows where tarzan lurked, picking out his light brown body from the surrounding darkness. momaya saw him and knew him. with a cry, she leaped forward and tarzan came to meet her. the other women, turning, saw him, too; but they did not come toward him. instead they rose as one, shrieked as one, fled as one. momaya threw herself at tarzan's feet, raising supplicating hands toward him and pouring forth from her mutilated lips a perfect cataract of words, not one of which the ape-man comprehended. for a moment he looked down upon the upturned, frightful face of the woman. he had come to slay, but that overwhelming torrent of speech filled him with consternation and with awe. he glanced about him apprehensively, then back at the woman. a revulsion of feeling seized him. he could not kill little tibo's mother, nor could he stand and face this verbal geyser. with a quick gesture of impatience at the spoiling of his evening's entertainment, he wheeled and leaped away into the darkness. a moment later he was swinging through the black jungle night, the cries and lamentations of momaya growing fainter in the distance. it was with a sigh of relief that he finally reached a point from which he could no longer hear them, and finding a comfortable crotch high among the trees, composed himself for a night of dreamless slumber, while a prowling lion moaned and coughed beneath him, and in far-off england the other lord greystoke, with the assistance of a valet, disrobed and crawled between spotless sheets, swearing irritably as a cat meowed beneath his window. as tarzan followed the fresh spoor of horta, the boar, the following morning, he came upon the tracks of two gomangani, a large one and a small one. the ape-man, accustomed as he was to questioning closely all that fell to his perceptions, paused to read the story written in the soft mud of the game trail. you or i would have seen little of interest there, even if, by chance, we could have seen aught. perhaps had one been there to point them out to us, we might have noted indentations in the mud, but there were countless indentations, one overlapping another into a confusion that would have been entirely meaningless to us. to tarzan each told its own story. tantor, the elephant, had passed that way as recently as three suns since. numa had hunted here the night just gone, and horta, the boar, had walked slowly along the trail within an hour; but what held tarzan's attention was the spoor tale of the gomangani. it told him that the day before an old man had gone toward the north in company with a little boy, and that with them had been two hyenas. tarzan scratched his head in puzzled incredulity. he could see by the overlapping of the footprints that the beasts had not been following the two, for sometimes one was ahead of them and one behind, and again both were in advance, or both were in the rear. it was very strange and quite inexplicable, especially where the spoor showed where the hyenas in the wider portions of the path had walked one on either side of the human pair, quite close to them. then tarzan read in the spoor of the smaller gomangani a shrinking terror of the beast that brushed his side, but in that of the old man was no sign of fear. at first tarzan had been solely occupied by the remarkable juxtaposition of the spoor of dango and gomangani, but now his keen eyes caught something in the spoor of the little gomangani which brought him to a sudden stop. it was as though, finding a letter in the road, you suddenly had discovered in it the familiar handwriting of a friend. "go-bu-balu!" exclaimed the ape-man, and at once memory flashed upon the screen of recollection the supplicating attitude of momaya as she had hurled herself before him in the village of mbonga the night before. instantly all was explained--the wailing and lamentation, the pleading of the black mother, the sympathetic howling of the shes about the fire. little go-bu-balu had been stolen again, and this time by another than tarzan. doubtless the mother had thought that he was again in the power of tarzan of the apes, and she had been beseeching him to return her balu to her. yes, it was all quite plain now; but who could have stolen go-bu-balu this time? tarzan wondered, and he wondered, too, about the presence of dango. he would investigate. the spoor was a day old and it ran toward the north. tarzan set out to follow it. in places it was totally obliterated by the passage of many beasts, and where the way was rocky, even tarzan of the apes was almost baffled; but there was still the faint effluvium which clung to the human spoor, appreciable only to such highly trained perceptive powers as were tarzan's. it had all happened to little tibo very suddenly and unexpectedly within the brief span of two suns. first had come bukawai, the witch-doctor--bukawai, the unclean--with the ragged bit of flesh which still clung to his rotting face. he had come alone and by day to the place at the river where momaya went daily to wash her body and that of tibo, her little boy. he had stepped out from behind a great bush quite close to momaya, frightening little tibo so that he ran screaming to his mother's protecting arms. but momaya, though startled, had wheeled to face the fearsome thing with all the savage ferocity of a she-tiger at bay. when she saw who it was, she breathed a sigh of partial relief, though she still clung tightly to tibo. "i have come," said bukawai without preliminary, "for the three fat goats, the new sleeping mat, and the bit of copper wire as long as a tall man's arm." "i have no goats for you," snapped momaya, "nor a sleeping mat, nor any wire. your medicine was never made. the white jungle god gave me back my tibo. you had nothing to do with it." "but i did," mumbled bukawai through his fleshless jaws. "it was i who commanded the white jungle god to give back your tibo." momaya laughed in his face. "speaker of lies," she cried, "go back to your foul den and your hyenas. go back and hide your stinking face in the belly of the mountain, lest the sun, seeing it, cover his face with a black cloud." "i have come," reiterated bukawai, "for the three fat goats, the new sleeping mat, and the bit of copper wire the length of a tall man's arm, which you were to pay me for the return of your tibo." "it was to be the length of a man's forearm," corrected momaya, "but you shall have nothing, old thief. you would not make medicine until i had brought the payment in advance, and when i was returning to my village the great, white jungle god gave me back my tibo--gave him to me out of the jaws of numa. his medicine is true medicine--yours is the weak medicine of an old man with a hole in his face." "i have come," repeated bukawai patiently, "for the three fat--" but momaya had not waited to hear more of what she already knew by heart. clasping tibo close to her side, she was hurrying away toward the palisaded village of mbonga, the chief. and the next day, when momaya was working in the plantain field with others of the women of the tribe, and little tibo had been playing at the edge of the jungle, casting a small spear in anticipation of the distant day when he should be a full-fledged warrior, bukawai had come again. tibo had seen a squirrel scampering up the bole of a great tree. his childish mind had transformed it into the menacing figure of a hostile warrior. little tibo had raised his tiny spear, his heart filled with the savage blood lust of his race, as he pictured the night's orgy when he should dance about the corpse of his human kill as the women of his tribe prepared the meat for the feast to follow. but when he cast the spear, he missed both squirrel and tree, losing his missile far among the tangled undergrowth of the jungle. however, it could be but a few steps within the forbidden labyrinth. the women were all about in the field. there were warriors on guard within easy hail, and so little tibo boldly ventured into the dark place. just behind the screen of creepers and matted foliage lurked three horrid figures--an old, old man, black as the pit, with a face half eaten away by leprosy, his sharp-filed teeth, the teeth of a cannibal, showing yellow and repulsive through the great gaping hole where his mouth and nose had been. and beside him, equally hideous, stood two powerful hyenas--carrion-eaters consorting with carrion. tibo did not see them until, head down, he had forced his way through the thickly growing vines in search of his little spear, and then it was too late. as he looked up into the face of bukawai, the old witch-doctor seized him, muffling his screams with a palm across his mouth. tibo struggled futilely. a moment later he was being hustled away through the dark and terrible jungle, the frightful old man still muffling his screams, and the two hideous hyenas pacing now on either side, now before, now behind, always prowling, always growling, snapping, snarling, or, worst of all, laughing hideously. to little tibo, who within his brief existence had passed through such experiences as are given to few to pass through in a lifetime, the northward journey was a nightmare of terror. he thought now of the time that he had been with the great, white jungle god, and he prayed with all his little soul that he might be back again with the white-skinned giant who consorted with the hairy tree men. terror-stricken he had been then, but his surroundings had been nothing by comparison with those which he now endured. the old man seldom addressed tibo, though he kept up an almost continuous mumbling throughout the long day. tibo caught repeated references to fat goats, sleeping mats, and pieces of copper wire. "ten fat goats, ten fat goats," the old negro would croon over and over again. by this little tibo guessed that the price of his ransom had risen. ten fat goats? where would his mother get ten fat goats, or thin ones, either, for that matter, to buy back just a poor little boy? mbonga would never let her have them, and tibo knew that his father never had owned more than three goats at the same time in all his life. ten fat goats! tibo sniffled. the putrid old man would kill him and eat him, for the goats would never be forthcoming. bukawai would throw his bones to the hyenas. the little black boy shuddered and became so weak that he almost fell in his tracks. bukawai cuffed him on an ear and jerked him along. after what seemed an eternity to tibo, they arrived at the mouth of a cave between two rocky hills. the opening was low and narrow. a few saplings bound together with strips of rawhide closed it against stray beasts. bukawai removed the primitive door and pushed tibo within. the hyenas, snarling, rushed past him and were lost to view in the blackness of the interior. bukawai replaced the saplings and seizing tibo roughly by the arm, dragged him along a narrow, rocky passage. the floor was comparatively smooth, for the dirt which lay thick upon it had been trodden and tramped by many feet until few inequalities remained. the passage was tortuous, and as it was very dark and the walls rough and rocky, tibo was scratched and bruised from the many bumps he received. bukawai walked as rapidly through the winding gallery as one would traverse a familiar lane by daylight. he knew every twist and turn as a mother knows the face of her child, and he seemed to be in a hurry. he jerked poor little tibo possibly a trifle more ruthlessly than necessary even at the pace bukawai set; but the old witch-doctor, an outcast from the society of man, diseased, shunned, hated, feared, was far from possessing an angelic temper. nature had given him few of the kindlier characteristics of man, and these few fate had eradicated entirely. shrewd, cunning, cruel, vindictive, was bukawai, the witch-doctor. frightful tales were whispered of the cruel tortures he inflicted upon his victims. children were frightened into obedience by the threat of his name. often had tibo been thus frightened, and now he was reaping a grisly harvest of terror from the seeds his mother had innocently sown. the darkness, the presence of the dreaded witch-doctor, the pain of the contusions, with a haunting premonition of the future, and the fear of the hyenas combined to almost paralyze the child. he stumbled and reeled until bukawai was dragging rather than leading him. presently tibo saw a faint lightness ahead of them, and a moment later they emerged into a roughly circular chamber to which a little daylight filtered through a rift in the rocky ceiling. the hyenas were there ahead of them, waiting. as bukawai entered with tibo, the beasts slunk toward them, baring yellow fangs. they were hungry. toward tibo they came, and one snapped at his naked legs. bukawai seized a stick from the floor of the chamber and struck a vicious blow at the beast, at the same time mumbling forth a volley of execrations. the hyena dodged and ran to the side of the chamber, where he stood growling. bukawai took a step toward the creature, which bristled with rage at his approach. fear and hatred shot from its evil eyes, but, fortunately for bukawai, fear predominated. seeing that he was unnoticed, the second beast made a short, quick rush for tibo. the child screamed and darted after the witch-doctor, who now turned his attention to the second hyena. this one he reached with his heavy stick, striking it repeatedly and driving it to the wall. there the two carrion-eaters commenced to circle the chamber while the human carrion, their master, now in a perfect frenzy of demoniacal rage, ran to and fro in an effort to intercept them, striking out with his cudgel and lashing them with his tongue, calling down upon them the curses of whatever gods and demons he could summon to memory, and describing in lurid figures the ignominy of their ancestors. several times one or the other of the beasts would turn to make a stand against the witch-doctor, and then tibo would hold his breath in agonized terror, for never in his brief life had he seen such frightful hatred depicted upon the countenance of man or beast; but always fear overcame the rage of the savage creatures, so that they resumed their flight, snarling and bare-fanged, just at the moment that tibo was certain they would spring at bukawai's throat. at last the witch-doctor tired of the futile chase. with a snarl quite as bestial as those of the beast, he turned toward tibo. "i go to collect the ten fat goats, the new sleeping mat, and the two pieces of copper wire that your mother will pay for the medicine i shall make to bring you back to her," he said. "you will stay here. there," and he pointed toward the passage which they had followed to the chamber, "i will leave the hyenas. if you try to escape, they will eat you." he cast aside the stick and called to the beasts. they came, snarling and slinking, their tails between their legs. bukawai led them to the passage and drove them into it. then he dragged a rude lattice into place before the opening after he, himself, had left the chamber. "this will keep them from you," he said. "if i do not get the ten fat goats and the other things, they shall at least have a few bones after i am through." and he left the boy to think over the meaning of his all-too-suggestive words. when he was gone, tibo threw himself upon the earth floor and broke into childish sobs of terror and loneliness. he knew that his mother had no ten fat goats to give and that when bukawai returned, little tibo would be killed and eaten. how long he lay there he did not know, but presently he was aroused by the growling of the hyenas. they had returned through the passage and were glaring at him from beyond the lattice. he could see their yellow eyes blazing through the darkness. they reared up and clawed at the barrier. tibo shivered and withdrew to the opposite side of the chamber. he saw the lattice sag and sway to the attacks of the beasts. momentarily he expected that it would fall inward, letting the creatures upon him. wearily the horror-ridden hours dragged their slow way. night came, and for a time tibo slept, but it seemed that the hungry beasts never slept. always they stood just beyond the lattice growling their hideous growls or laughing their hideous laughs. through the narrow rift in the rocky roof above him, tibo could see a few stars, and once the moon crossed. at last daylight came again. tibo was very hungry and thirsty, for he had not eaten since the morning before, and only once upon the long march had he been permitted to drink, but even hunger and thirst were almost forgotten in the terror of his position. it was after daylight that the child discovered a second opening in the walls of the subterranean chamber, almost opposite that at which the hyenas still stood glaring hungrily at him. it was only a narrow slit in the rocky wall. it might lead in but a few feet, or it might lead to freedom! tibo approached it and looked within. he could see nothing. he extended his arm into the blackness, but he dared not venture farther. bukawai never would have left open a way of escape, tibo reasoned, so this passage must lead either nowhere or to some still more hideous danger. to the boy's fear of the actual dangers which menaced him--bukawai and the two hyenas--his superstition added countless others quite too horrible even to name, for in the lives of the blacks, through the shadows of the jungle day and the black horrors of the jungle night, flit strange, fantastic shapes peopling the already hideously peopled forests with menacing figures, as though the lion and the leopard, the snake and the hyena, and the countless poisonous insects were not quite sufficient to strike terror to the hearts of the poor, simple creatures whose lot is cast in earth's most fearsome spot. and so it was that little tibo cringed not only from real menaces but from imaginary ones. he was afraid even to venture upon a road that might lead to escape, lest bukawai had set to watch it some frightful demon of the jungle. but the real menaces suddenly drove the imaginary ones from the boy's mind, for with the coming of daylight the half-famished hyenas renewed their efforts to break down the frail barrier which kept them from their prey. rearing upon their hind feet they clawed and struck at the lattice. with wide eyes tibo saw it sag and rock. not for long, he knew, could it withstand the assaults of these two powerful and determined brutes. already one corner had been forced past the rocky protuberance of the entrance way which had held it in place. a shaggy forearm protruded into the chamber. tibo trembled as with ague, for he knew that the end was near. backing against the farther wall he stood flattened out as far from the beasts as he could get. he saw the lattice give still more. he saw a savage, snarling head forced past it, and grinning jaws snapping and gaping toward him. in another instant the pitiful fabric would fall inward, and the two would be upon him, rending his flesh from his bones, gnawing the bones themselves, fighting for possession of his entrails. * * * bukawai came upon momaya outside the palisade of mbonga, the chief. at sight of him the woman drew back in revulsion, then she flew at him, tooth and nail; but bukawai threatening her with a spear held her at a safe distance. "where is my baby?" she cried. "where is my little tibo?" bukawai opened his eyes in well-simulated amazement. "your baby!" he exclaimed. "what should i know of him, other than that i rescued him from the white god of the jungle and have not yet received my pay. i come for the goats and the sleeping mat and the piece of copper wire the length of a tall man's arm from the shoulder to the tips of his fingers." "offal of a hyena!" shrieked momaya. "my child has been stolen, and you, rotting fragment of a man, have taken him. return him to me or i shall tear your eyes from your head and feed your heart to the wild hogs." bukawai shrugged his shoulders. "what do i know about your child?" he asked. "i have not taken him. if he is stolen again, what should bukawai know of the matter? did bukawai steal him before? no, the white jungle god stole him, and if he stole him once he would steal him again. it is nothing to me. i returned him to you before and i have come for my pay. if he is gone and you would have him returned, bukawai will return him--for ten fat goats, a new sleeping mat and two pieces of copper wire the length of a tall man's arm from the shoulder to the tips of his fingers, and bukawai will say nothing more about the goats and the sleeping mat and the copper wire which you were to pay for the first medicine." "ten fat goats!" screamed momaya. "i could not pay you ten fat goats in as many years. ten fat goats, indeed!" "ten fat goats," repeated bukawai. "ten fat goats, the new sleeping mat and two pieces of copper wire the length of--" momaya stopped him with an impatient gesture. "wait!" she cried. "i have no goats. you waste your breath. stay here while i go to my man. he has but three goats, yet something may be done. wait!" bukawai sat down beneath a tree. he felt quite content, for he knew that he should have either payment or revenge. he did not fear harm at the hands of these people of another tribe, although he well knew that they must fear and hate him. his leprosy alone would prevent their laying hands upon him, while his reputation as a witch-doctor rendered him doubly immune from attack. he was planning upon compelling them to drive the ten goats to the mouth of his cave when momaya returned. with her were three warriors--mbonga, the chief, rabba kega, the village witch-doctor, and ibeto, tibo's father. they were not pretty men even under ordinary circumstances, and now, with their faces marked by anger, they well might have inspired terror in the heart of anyone; but if bukawai felt any fear, he did not betray it. instead he greeted them with an insolent stare, intended to awe them, as they came and squatted in a semi-circle before him. "where is ibeto's son?" asked mbonga. "how should i know?" returned bukawai. "doubtless the white devil-god has him. if i am paid i will make strong medicine and then we shall know where is ibeto's son, and shall get him back again. it was my medicine which got him back the last time, for which i got no pay." "i have my own witch-doctor to make medicine," replied mbonga with dignity. bukawai sneered and rose to his feet. "very well," he said, "let him make his medicine and see if he can bring ibeto's son back." he took a few steps away from them, and then he turned angrily back. "his medicine will not bring the child back--that i know, and i also know that when you find him it will be too late for any medicine to bring him back, for he will be dead. this have i just found out, the ghost of my father's sister but now came to me and told me." now mbonga and rabba kega might not take much stock in their own magic, and they might even be skeptical as to the magic of another; but there was always a chance of _something_ being in it, especially if it were not their own. was it not well known that old bukawai had speech with the demons themselves and that two even lived with him in the forms of hyenas! still they must not accede too hastily. there was the price to be considered, and mbonga had no intention of parting lightly with ten goats to obtain the return of a single little boy who might die of smallpox long before he reached a warrior's estate. "wait," said mbonga. "let us see some of your magic, that we may know if it be good magic. then we can talk about payment. rabba kega will make some magic, too. we will see who makes the best magic. sit down, bukawai." "the payment will be ten goats--fat goats--a new sleeping mat and two pieces of copper wire the length of a tall man's arm from the shoulder to the ends of his fingers, and it will be made in advance, the goats being driven to my cave. then will i make the medicine, and on the second day the boy will be returned to his mother. it cannot be done more quickly than that because it takes time to make such strong medicine." "make us some medicine now," said mbonga. "let us see what sort of medicine you make." "bring me fire," replied bukawai, "and i will make you a little magic." momaya was dispatched for the fire, and while she was away mbonga dickered with bukawai about the price. ten goats, he said, was a high price for an able-bodied warrior. he also called bukawai's attention to the fact that he, mbonga, was very poor, that his people were very poor, and that ten goats were at least eight too many, to say nothing of a new sleeping mat and the copper wire; but bukawai was adamant. his medicine was very expensive and he would have to give at least five goats to the gods who helped him make it. they were still arguing when momaya returned with the fire. bukawai placed a little on the ground before him, took a pinch of powder from a pouch at his side and sprinkled it on the embers. a cloud of smoke rose with a puff. bukawai closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. then he made a few passes in the air and pretended to swoon. mbonga and the others were much impressed. rabba kega grew nervous. he saw his reputation waning. there was some fire left in the vessel which momaya had brought. he seized the vessel, dropped a handful of dry leaves into it while no one was watching and then uttered a frightful scream which drew the attention of bukawai's audience to him. it also brought bukawai quite miraculously out of his swoon, but when the old witch-doctor saw the reason for the disturbance he quickly relapsed into unconsciousness before anyone discovered his _faux pas_. rabba kega, seeing that he had the attention of mbonga, ibeto, and momaya, blew suddenly into the vessel, with the result that the leaves commenced to smolder, and smoke issued from the mouth of the receptacle. rabba kega was careful to hold it so that none might see the dry leaves. their eyes opened wide at this remarkable demonstration of the village witch-doctor's powers. the latter, greatly elated, let himself out. he shouted, jumped up and down, and made frightful grimaces; then he put his face close over the mouth of the vessel and appeared to be communing with the spirits within. it was while he was thus engaged that bukawai came out of his trance, his curiosity finally having gotten the better of him. no one was paying him the slightest attention. he blinked his one eye angrily, then he, too, let out a loud roar, and when he was sure that mbonga had turned toward him, he stiffened rigidly and made spasmodic movements with his arms and legs. "i see him!" he cried. "he is far away. the white devil-god did not get him. he is alone and in great danger; but," he added, "if the ten fat goats and the other things are paid to me quickly there is yet time to save him." rabba kega had paused to listen. mbonga looked toward him. the chief was in a quandary. he did not know which medicine was the better. "what does your magic tell you?" he asked of rabba kega. "i, too, see him," screamed rabba kega; "but he is not where bukawai says he is. he is dead at the bottom of the river." at this momaya commenced to howl loudly. tarzan had followed the spoor of the old man, the two hyenas, and the little black boy to the mouth of the cave in the rocky canyon between the two hills. here he paused a moment before the sapling barrier which bukawai had set up, listening to the snarls and growls which came faintly from the far recesses of the cavern. presently, mingled with the beastly cries, there came faintly to the keen ears of the ape-man, the agonized moan of a child. no longer did tarzan hesitate. hurling the door aside, he sprang into the dark opening. narrow and black was the corridor; but long use of his eyes in the stygian blackness of the jungle nights had given to the ape-man something of the nocturnal visionary powers of the wild things with which he had consorted since babyhood. he moved rapidly and yet with caution, for the place was dark, unfamiliar and winding. as he advanced, he heard more and more loudly the savage snarls of the two hyenas, mingled with the scraping and scratching of their paws upon wood. the moans of a child grew in volume, and tarzan recognized in them the voice of the little black boy he once had sought to adopt as his balu. there was no hysteria in the ape-man's advance. too accustomed was he to the passing of life in the jungle to be greatly wrought even by the death of one whom he knew; but the lust for battle spurred him on. he was only a wild beast at heart and his wild beast's heart beat high in anticipation of conflict. in the rocky chamber of the hill's center, little tibo crouched low against the wall as far from the hunger-crazed beasts as he could drag himself. he saw the lattice giving to the frantic clawing of the hyenas. he knew that in a few minutes his little life would flicker out horribly beneath the rending, yellow fangs of these loathsome creatures. beneath the buffetings of the powerful bodies, the lattice sagged inward, until, with a crash it gave way, letting the carnivora in upon the boy. tibo cast one affrighted glance toward them, then closed his eyes and buried his face in his arms, sobbing piteously. for a moment the hyenas paused, caution and cowardice holding them from their prey. they stood thus glaring at the lad, then slowly, stealthily, crouching, they crept toward him. it was thus that tarzan came upon them, bursting into the chamber swiftly and silently; but not so silently that the keen-eared beasts did not note his coming. with angry growls they turned from tibo upon the ape-man, as, with a smile upon his lips, he ran toward them. for an instant one of the animals stood its ground; but the ape-man did not deign even to draw his hunting knife against despised dango. rushing in upon the brute he grasped it by the scruff of the neck, just as it attempted to dodge past him, and hurled it across the cavern after its fellow which already was slinking into the corridor, bent upon escape. then tarzan picked tibo from the floor, and when the child felt human hands upon him instead of the paws and fangs of the hyenas, he rolled his eyes upward in surprise and incredulity, and as they fell upon tarzan, sobs of relief broke from the childish lips and his hands clutched at his deliverer as though the white devil-god was not the most feared of jungle creatures. when tarzan came to the cave mouth the hyenas were nowhere in sight, and after permitting tibo to quench his thirst in the spring which rose near by, he lifted the boy to his shoulders and set off toward the jungle at a rapid trot, determined to still the annoying howlings of momaya as quickly as possible, for he shrewdly had guessed that the absence of her balu was the cause of her lamentation. "he is not dead at the bottom of the river," cried bukawai. "what does this fellow know about making magic? who is he, anyway, that he dare say bukawai's magic is not good magic? bukawai sees momaya's son. he is far away and alone and in great danger. hasten then with the ten fat goats, the--" but he got no further. there was a sudden interruption from above, from the branches of the very tree beneath which they squatted, and as the five blacks looked up they almost swooned in fright as they saw the great, white devil-god looking down upon them; but before they could flee they saw another face, that of the lost little tibo, and his face was laughing and very happy. and then tarzan dropped fearlessly among them, the boy still upon his back, and deposited him before his mother. momaya, ibeto, rabba kega, and mbonga were all crowding around the lad trying to question him at the same time. suddenly momaya turned ferociously to fall upon bukawai, for the boy had told her all that he had suffered at the hands of the cruel old man; but bukawai was no longer there--he had required no recourse to black art to assure him that the vicinity of momaya would be no healthful place for him after tibo had told his story, and now he was running through the jungle as fast as his old legs would carry him toward the distant lair where he knew no black would dare pursue him. tarzan, too, had vanished, as he had a way of doing, to the mystification of the blacks. then momaya's eyes lighted upon rabba kega. the village witch-doctor saw something in those eyes of hers which boded no good to him, and backed away. "so my tibo is dead at the bottom of the river, is he?" the woman shrieked. "and he's far away and alone and in great danger, is he? magic!" the scorn which momaya crowded into that single word would have done credit to a thespian of the first magnitude. "magic, indeed!" she screamed. "momaya will show you some magic of her own," and with that she seized upon a broken limb and struck rabba kega across the head. with a howl of pain, the man turned and fled, momaya pursuing him and beating him across the shoulders, through the gateway and up the length of the village street, to the intense amusement of the warriors, the women, and the children who were so fortunate as to witness the spectacle, for one and all feared rabba kega, and to fear is to hate. thus it was that to his host of passive enemies, tarzan of the apes added that day two active foes, both of whom remained awake long into the night planning means of revenge upon the white devil-god who had brought them into ridicule and disrepute, but with their most malevolent schemings was mingled a vein of real fear and awe that would not down. young lord greystoke did not know that they planned against him, nor, knowing, would have cared. he slept as well that night as he did on any other night, and though there was no roof above him, and no doors to lock against intruders, he slept much better than his noble relative in england, who had eaten altogether too much lobster and drank too much wine at dinner that night. 7 the end of bukawai when tarzan of the apes was still but a boy he had learned, among other things, to fashion pliant ropes of fibrous jungle grass. strong and tough were the ropes of tarzan, the little tarmangani. tublat, his foster father, would have told you this much and more. had you tempted him with a handful of fat caterpillars he even might have sufficiently unbended to narrate to you a few stories of the many indignities which tarzan had heaped upon him by means of his hated rope; but then tublat always worked himself into such a frightful rage when he devoted any considerable thought either to the rope or to tarzan, that it might not have proved comfortable for you to have remained close enough to him to hear what he had to say. so often had that snakelike noose settled unexpectedly over tublat's head, so often had he been jerked ridiculously and painfully from his feet when he was least looking for such an occurrence, that there is little wonder he found scant space in his savage heart for love of his white-skinned foster child, or the inventions thereof. there had been other times, too, when tublat had swung helplessly in midair, the noose tightening about his neck, death staring him in the face, and little tarzan dancing upon a near-by limb, taunting him and making unseemly grimaces. then there had been another occasion in which the rope had figured prominently--an occasion, and the only one connected with the rope, which tublat recalled with pleasure. tarzan, as active in brain as he was in body, was always inventing new ways in which to play. it was through the medium of play that he learned much during his childhood. this day he learned something, and that he did not lose his life in the learning of it, was a matter of great surprise to tarzan, and the fly in the ointment, to tublat. the man-child had, in throwing his noose at a playmate in a tree above him, caught a projecting branch instead. when he tried to shake it loose it but drew the tighter. then tarzan started to climb the rope to remove it from the branch. when he was part way up a frolicsome playmate seized that part of the rope which lay upon the ground and ran off with it as far as he could go. when tarzan screamed at him to desist, the young ape released the rope a little and then drew it tight again. the result was to impart a swinging motion to tarzan's body which the ape-boy suddenly realized was a new and pleasurable form of play. he urged the ape to continue until tarzan was swinging to and fro as far as the short length of rope would permit, but the distance was not great enough, and, too, he was not far enough above the ground to give the necessary thrills which add so greatly to the pastimes of the young. so he clambered to the branch where the noose was caught and after removing it carried the rope far aloft and out upon a long and powerful branch. here he again made it fast, and taking the loose end in his hand, clambered quickly down among the branches as far as the rope would permit him to go; then he swung out upon the end of it, his lithe, young body turning and twisting--a human bob upon a pendulum of grass--thirty feet above the ground. ah, how delectable! this was indeed a new play of the first magnitude. tarzan was entranced. soon he discovered that by wriggling his body in just the right way at the proper time he could diminish or accelerate his oscillation, and, being a boy, he chose, naturally, to accelerate. presently he was swinging far and wide, while below him, the apes of the tribe of kerchak looked on in mild amaze. had it been you or i swinging there at the end of that grass rope, the thing which presently happened would not have happened, for we could not have hung on so long as to have made it possible; but tarzan was quite as much at home swinging by his hands as he was standing upon his feet, or, at least, almost. at any rate he felt no fatigue long after the time that an ordinary mortal would have been numb with the strain of the physical exertion. and this was his undoing. tublat was watching him as were others of the tribe. of all the creatures of the wild, there was none tublat so cordially hated as he did this hideous, hairless, white-skinned, caricature of an ape. but for tarzan's nimbleness, and the zealous watchfulness of savage kala's mother love, tublat would long since have rid himself of this stain upon his family escutcheon. so long had it been since tarzan became a member of the tribe, that tublat had forgotten the circumstances surrounding the entrance of the jungle waif into his family, with the result that he now imagined that tarzan was his own offspring, adding greatly to his chagrin. wide and far swung tarzan of the apes, until at last, as he reached the highest point of the arc the rope, which rapidly had frayed on the rough bark of the tree limb, parted suddenly. the watching apes saw the smooth, brown body shoot outward, and down, plummet-like. tublat leaped high in the air, emitting what in a human being would have been an exclamation of delight. this would be the end of tarzan and most of tublat's troubles. from now on he could lead his life in peace and security. tarzan fell quite forty feet, alighting on his back in a thick bush. kala was the first to reach his side--ferocious, hideous, loving kala. she had seen the life crushed from her own balu in just such a fall years before. was she to lose this one too in the same way? tarzan was lying quite still when she found him, embedded deeply in the bush. it took kala several minutes to disentangle him and drag him forth; but he was not killed. he was not even badly injured. the bush had broken the force of the fall. a cut upon the back of his head showed where he had struck the tough stem of the shrub and explained his unconsciousness. in a few minutes he was as active as ever. tublat was furious. in his rage he snapped at a fellow-ape without first discovering the identity of his victim, and was badly mauled for his ill temper, having chosen to vent his spite upon a husky and belligerent young bull in the full prime of his vigor. but tarzan had learned something new. he had learned that continued friction would wear through the strands of his rope, though it was many years before this knowledge did more for him than merely to keep him from swinging too long at a time, or too far above the ground at the end of his rope. the day came, however, when the very thing that had once all but killed him proved the means of saving his life. he was no longer a child, but a mighty jungle male. there was none now to watch over him, solicitously, nor did he need such. kala was dead. dead, too, was tublat, and though with kala passed the one creature that ever really had loved him, there were still many who hated him after tublat departed unto the arms of his fathers. it was not that he was more cruel or more savage than they that they hated him, for though he was both cruel and savage as were the beasts, his fellows, yet too was he often tender, which they never were. no, the thing which brought tarzan most into disrepute with those who did not like him, was the possession and practice of a characteristic which they had not and could not understand--the human sense of humor. in tarzan it was a trifle broad, perhaps, manifesting itself in rough and painful practical jokes upon his friends and cruel baiting of his enemies. but to neither of these did he owe the enmity of bukawai, the witch-doctor, who dwelt in the cave between the two hills far to the north of the village of mbonga, the chief. bukawai was jealous of tarzan, and bukawai it was who came near proving the undoing of the ape-man. for months bukawai had nursed his hatred while revenge seemed remote indeed, since tarzan of the apes frequented another part of the jungle, miles away from the lair of bukawai. only once had the black witch-doctor seen the devil-god, as he was most often called among the blacks, and upon that occasion tarzan had robbed him of a fat fee, at the same time putting the lie in the mouth of bukawai, and making his medicine seem poor medicine. all this bukawai never could forgive, though it seemed unlikely that the opportunity would come to be revenged. yet it did come, and quite unexpectedly. tarzan was hunting far to the north. he had wandered away from the tribe, as he did more and more often as he approached maturity, to hunt alone for a few days. as a child he had enjoyed romping and playing with the young apes, his companions; but now these play-fellows of his had grown to surly, lowering bulls, or to touchy, suspicious mothers, jealously guarding helpless balus. so tarzan found in his own man-mind a greater and a truer companionship than any or all of the apes of kerchak could afford him. this day, as tarzan hunted, the sky slowly became overcast. torn clouds, whipped to ragged streamers, fled low above the tree tops. they reminded tarzan of frightened antelope fleeing the charge of a hungry lion. but though the light clouds raced so swiftly, the jungle was motionless. not a leaf quivered and the silence was a great, dead weight--insupportable. even the insects seemed stilled by apprehension of some frightful thing impending, and the larger things were soundless. such a forest, such a jungle might have stood there in the beginning of that unthinkably far-gone age before god peopled the world with life, when there were no sounds because there were no ears to hear. and over all lay a sickly, pallid ocher light through which the scourged clouds raced. tarzan had seen all these conditions many times before, yet he never could escape a strange feeling at each recurrence of them. he knew no fear, but in the face of nature's manifestations of her cruel, immeasurable powers, he felt very small--very small and very lonely. now he heard a low moaning, far away. "the lions seek their prey," he murmured to himself, looking up once again at the swift-flying clouds. the moaning rose to a great volume of sound. "they come!" said tarzan of the apes, and sought the shelter of a thickly foliaged tree. quite suddenly the trees bent their tops simultaneously as though god had stretched a hand from the heavens and pressed his flat palm down upon the world. "they pass!" whispered tarzan. "the lions pass." then came a vivid flash of lightning, followed by deafening thunder. "the lions have sprung," cried tarzan, "and now they roar above the bodies of their kills." the trees were waving wildly in all directions now, a perfectly demoniacal wind threshed the jungle pitilessly. in the midst of it the rain came--not as it comes upon us of the northlands, but in a sudden, choking, blinding deluge. "the blood of the kill," thought tarzan, huddling himself closer to the bole of the great tree beneath which he stood. he was close to the edge of the jungle, and at a little distance he had seen two hills before the storm broke; but now he could see nothing. it amused him to look out into the beating rain, searching for the two hills and imagining that the torrents from above had washed them away, yet he knew that presently the rain would cease, the sun come out again and all be as it was before, except where a few branches had fallen and here and there some old and rotted patriarch had crashed back to enrich the soil upon which he had fatted for, maybe, centuries. all about him branches and leaves filled the air or fell to earth, torn away by the strength of the tornado and the weight of the water upon them. a gaunt corpse toppled and fell a few yards away; but tarzan was protected from all these dangers by the wide-spreading branches of the sturdy young giant beneath which his jungle craft had guided him. here there was but a single danger, and that a remote one. yet it came. without warning the tree above him was riven by lightning, and when the rain ceased and the sun came out tarzan lay stretched as he had fallen, upon his face amidst the wreckage of the jungle giant that should have shielded him. bukawai came to the entrance of his cave after the rain and the storm had passed and looked out upon the scene. from his one eye bukawai could see; but had he had a dozen eyes he could have found no beauty in the fresh sweetness of the revivified jungle, for to such things, in the chemistry of temperament, his brain failed to react; nor, even had he had a nose, which he had not for years, could he have found enjoyment or sweetness in the clean-washed air. at either side of the leper stood his sole and constant companions, the two hyenas, sniffing the air. presently one of them uttered a low growl and with flattened head started, sneaking and wary, toward the jungle. the other followed. bukawai, his curiosity aroused, trailed after them, in his hand a heavy knob-stick. the hyenas halted a few yards from the prostrate tarzan, sniffing and growling. then came bukawai, and at first he could not believe the witness of his own eyes; but when he did and saw that it was indeed the devil-god his rage knew no bounds, for he thought him dead and himself cheated of the revenge he had so long dreamed upon. the hyenas approached the ape-man with bared fangs. bukawai, with an inarticulate scream, rushed upon them, striking cruel and heavy blows with his knob-stick, for there might still be life in the apparently lifeless form. the beasts, snapping and snarling, half turned upon their master and their tormentor, but long fear still held them from his putrid throat. they slunk away a few yards and squatted upon their haunches, hatred and baffled hunger gleaming from their savage eyes. bukawai stooped and placed his ear above the ape-man's heart. it still beat. as well as his sloughed features could register pleasure they did so; but it was not a pretty sight. at the ape-man's side lay his long, grass rope. quickly bukawai bound the limp arms behind his prisoner's back, then he raised him to one of his shoulders, for, though bukawai was old and diseased, he was still a strong man. the hyenas fell in behind as the witch-doctor set off toward the cave, and through the long black corridors they followed as bukawai bore his victim into the bowels of the hills. through subterranean chambers, connected by winding passageways, bukawai staggered with his load. at a sudden turning of the corridor, daylight flooded them and bukawai stepped out into a small, circular basin in the hill, apparently the crater of an ancient volcano, one of those which never reached the dignity of a mountain and are little more than lava-rimmed pits closed to the earth's surface. steep walls rimmed the cavity. the only exit was through the passageway by which bukawai had entered. a few stunted trees grew upon the rocky floor. a hundred feet above could be seen the ragged lips of this cold, dead mouth of hell. bukawai propped tarzan against a tree and bound him there with his own grass rope, leaving his hands free but securing the knots in such a way that the ape-man could not reach them. the hyenas slunk to and fro, growling. bukawai hated them and they hated him. he knew that they but waited for the time when he should be helpless, or when their hatred should rise to such a height as to submerge their cringing fear of him. in his own heart was not a little fear of these repulsive creatures, and because of that fear, bukawai always kept the beasts well fed, often hunting for them when their own forages for food failed, but ever was he cruel to them with the cruelty of a little brain, diseased, bestial, primitive. he had had them since they were puppies. they had known no other life than that with him, and though they went abroad to hunt, always they returned. of late bukawai had come to believe that they returned not so much from habit as from a fiendish patience which would submit to every indignity and pain rather than forego the final vengeance, and bukawai needed but little imagination to picture what that vengeance would be. today he would see for himself what his end would be; but another should impersonate bukawai. when he had trussed tarzan securely, bukawai went back into the corridor, driving the hyenas ahead of him, and pulling across the opening a lattice of laced branches, which shut the pit from the cave during the night that bukawai might sleep in security, for then the hyenas were penned in the crater that they might not sneak upon a sleeping bukawai in the darkness. bukawai returned to the outer cave mouth, filled a vessel with water at the spring which rose in the little canyon close at hand and returned toward the pit. the hyenas stood before the lattice looking hungrily toward tarzan. they had been fed in this manner before. with his water, the witch-doctor approached tarzan and threw a portion of the contents of the vessel in the ape-man's face. there was fluttering of the eyelids, and at the second application tarzan opened his eyes and looked about. "devil-god," cried bukawai, "i am the great witch-doctor. my medicine is strong. yours is weak. if it is not, why do you stay tied here like a goat that is bait for lions?" tarzan understood nothing the witch-doctor said, therefore he did not reply, but only stared straight at bukawai with cold and level gaze. the hyenas crept up behind him. he heard them growl; but he did not even turn his head. he was a beast with a man's brain. the beast in him refused to show fear in the face of a death which the man-mind already admitted to be inevitable. bukawai, not yet ready to give his victim to the beasts, rushed upon the hyenas with his knob-stick. there was a short scrimmage in which the brutes came off second best, as they always did. tarzan watched it. he saw and realized the hatred which existed between the two animals and the hideous semblance of a man. with the hyenas subdued, bukawai returned to the baiting of tarzan; but finding that the ape-man understood nothing he said, the witch-doctor finally desisted. then he withdrew into the corridor and pulled the latticework barrier across the opening. he went back into the cave and got a sleeping mat, which he brought to the opening, that he might lie down and watch the spectacle of his revenge in comfort. the hyenas were sneaking furtively around the ape-man. tarzan strained at his bonds for a moment, but soon realized that the rope he had braided to hold numa, the lion, would hold him quite as successfully. he did not wish to die; but he could look death in the face now as he had many times before without a quaver. as he pulled upon the rope he felt it rub against the small tree about which it was passed. like a flash of the cinematograph upon the screen, a picture was flashed before his mind's eye from the storehouse of his memory. he saw a lithe, boyish figure swinging high above the ground at the end of a rope. he saw many apes watching from below, and then he saw the rope part and the boy hurtle downward toward the ground. tarzan smiled. immediately he commenced to draw the rope rapidly back and forth across the tree trunk. the hyenas, gaining courage, came closer. they sniffed at his legs; but when he struck at them with his free arms they slunk off. he knew that with the growth of hunger they would attack. coolly, methodically, without haste, tarzan drew the rope back and forth against the rough trunk of the small tree. in the entrance to the cavern bukawai fell asleep. he thought it would be some time before the beasts gained sufficient courage or hunger to attack the captive. their growls and the cries of the victim would awaken him. in the meantime he might as well rest, and he did. thus the day wore on, for the hyenas were not famished, and the rope with which tarzan was bound was a stronger one than that of his boyhood, which had parted so quickly to the chafing of the rough tree bark. yet, all the while hunger was growing upon the beasts and the strands of the grass rope were wearing thinner and thinner. bukawai slept. it was late afternoon before one of the beasts, irritated by the gnawing of appetite, made a quick, growling dash at the ape-man. the noise awoke bukawai. he sat up quickly and watched what went on within the crater. he saw the hungry hyena charge the man, leaping for the unprotected throat. he saw tarzan reach out and seize the growling animal, and then he saw the second beast spring for the devil-god's shoulder. there was a mighty heave of the great, smooth-skinned body. rounded muscles shot into great, tensed piles beneath the brown hide--the ape-man surged forward with all his weight and all his great strength--the bonds parted, and the three were rolling upon the floor of the crater snarling, snapping, and rending. bukawai leaped to his feet. could it be that the devil-god was to prevail against his servants? impossible! the creature was unarmed, and he was down with two hyenas on top of him; but bukawai did not know tarzan. the ape-man fastened his fingers upon the throat of one of the hyenas and rose to one knee, though the other beast tore at him frantically in an effort to pull him down. with a single hand tarzan held the one, and with the other hand he reached forth and pulled toward him the second beast. and then bukawai, seeing the battle going against his forces, rushed forward from the cavern brandishing his knob-stick. tarzan saw him coming, and rising now to both feet, a hyena in each hand, he hurled one of the foaming beasts straight at the witch-doctor's head. down went the two in a snarling, biting heap. tarzan tossed the second hyena across the crater, while the first gnawed at the rotting face of its master; but this did not suit the ape-man. with a kick he sent the beast howling after its companion, and springing to the side of the prostrate witch-doctor, dragged him to his feet. bukawai, still conscious, saw death, immediate and terrible, in the cold eyes of his captor, so he turned upon tarzan with teeth and nails. the ape-man shuddered at the proximity of that raw face to his. the hyenas had had enough and disappeared through the small aperture leading into the cave. tarzan had little difficulty in overpowering and binding bukawai. then he led him to the very tree to which he had been bound; but in binding bukawai, tarzan saw to it that escape after the same fashion that he had escaped would be out of the question; then he left him. as he passed through the winding corridors and the subterranean apartments, tarzan saw nothing of the hyenas. "they will return," he said to himself. in the crater between the towering walls bukawai, cold with terror, trembled, trembled as with ague. "they will return!" he cried, his voice rising to a fright-filled shriek. and they did. 8 the lion numa, the lion, crouched behind a thorn bush close beside the drinking pool where the river eddied just below the bend. there was a ford there and on either bank a well-worn trail, broadened far out at the river's brim, where, for countless centuries, the wild things of the jungle and of the plains beyond had come down to drink, the carnivora with bold and fearless majesty, the herbivora timorous, hesitating, fearful. numa, the lion, was hungry, he was very hungry, and so he was quite silent now. on his way to the drinking place he had moaned often and roared not a little; but as he neared the spot where he would lie in wait for bara, the deer, or horta, the boar, or some other of the many luscious-fleshed creatures who came hither to drink, he was silent. it was a grim, a terrible silence, shot through with yellow-green light of ferocious eyes, punctuated with undulating tremors of sinuous tail. it was pacco, the zebra, who came first, and numa, the lion, could scarce restrain a roar of anger, for of all the plains people, none are more wary than pacco, the zebra. behind the black-striped stallion came a herd of thirty or forty of the plump and vicious little horselike beasts. as he neared the river, the leader paused often, cocking his ears and raising his muzzle to sniff the gentle breeze for the tell-tale scent spoor of the dread flesh-eaters. numa shifted uneasily, drawing his hind quarters far beneath his tawny body, gathering himself for the sudden charge and the savage assault. his eyes shot hungry fire. his great muscles quivered to the excitement of the moment. pacco came a little nearer, halted, snorted, and wheeled. there was a pattering of scurrying hoofs and the herd was gone; but numa, the lion, moved not. he was familiar with the ways of pacco, the zebra. he knew that he would return, though many times he might wheel and fly before he summoned the courage to lead his harem and his offspring to the water. there was the chance that pacco might be frightened off entirely. numa had seen this happen before, and so he became almost rigid lest he be the one to send them galloping, waterless, back to the plain. again and again came pacco and his family, and again and again did they turn and flee; but each time they came closer to the river, until at last the plump stallion dipped his velvet muzzle daintily into the water. the others, stepping warily, approached their leader. numa selected a sleek, fat filly and his flaming eyes burned greedily as they feasted upon her, for numa, the lion, loves scarce anything better than the meat of pacco, perhaps because pacco is, of all the grass-eaters, the most difficult to catch. slowly the lion rose, and as he rose, a twig snapped beneath one of his great, padded paws. like a shot from a rifle he charged upon the filly; but the snapped twig had been enough to startle the timorous quarry, so that they were in instant flight simultaneously with numa's charge. the stallion was last, and with a prodigious leap, the lion catapulted through the air to seize him; but the snapping twig had robbed numa of his dinner, though his mighty talons raked the zebra's glossy rump, leaving four crimson bars across the beautiful coat. it was an angry numa that quitted the river and prowled, fierce, dangerous, and hungry, into the jungle. far from particular now was his appetite. even dango, the hyena, would have seemed a tidbit to that ravenous maw. and in this temper it was that the lion came upon the tribe of kerchak, the great ape. one does not look for numa, the lion, this late in the morning. he should be lying up asleep beside his last night's kill by now; but numa had made no kill last night. he was still hunting, hungrier than ever. the anthropoids were idling about the clearing, the first keen desire of the morning's hunger having been satisfied. numa scented them long before he saw them. ordinarily he would have turned away in search of other game, for even numa respected the mighty muscles and the sharp fangs of the great bulls of the tribe of kerchak, but today he kept on steadily toward them, his bristled snout wrinkled into a savage snarl. without an instant's hesitation, numa charged the moment he reached a point from where the apes were visible to him. there were a dozen or more of the hairy, manlike creatures upon the ground in a little glade. in a tree at one side sat a brown-skinned youth. he saw numa's swift charge; he saw the apes turn and flee, huge bulls trampling upon little balus; only a single she held her ground to meet the charge, a young she inspired by new motherhood to the great sacrifice that her balu might escape. tarzan leaped from his perch, screaming at the flying bulls beneath and at those who squatted in the safety of surrounding trees. had the bulls stood their ground, numa would not have carried through that charge unless goaded by great rage or the gnawing pangs of starvation. even then he would not have come off unscathed. if the bulls heard, they were too slow in responding, for numa had seized the mother ape and dragged her into the jungle before the males had sufficiently collected their wits and their courage to rally in defense of their fellow. tarzan's angry voice aroused similar anger in the breasts of the apes. snarling and barking they followed numa into the dense labyrinth of foliage wherein he sought to hide himself from them. the ape-man was in the lead, moving rapidly and yet with caution, depending even more upon his ears and nose than upon his eyes for information of the lion's whereabouts. the spoor was easy to follow, for the dragged body of the victim left a plain trail, blood-spattered and scentful. even such dull creatures as you or i might easily have followed it. to tarzan and the apes of kerchak it was as obvious as a cement sidewalk. tarzan knew that they were nearing the great cat even before he heard an angry growl of warning just ahead. calling to the apes to follow his example, he swung into a tree and a moment later numa was surrounded by a ring of growling beasts, well out of reach of his fangs and talons but within plain sight of him. the carnivore crouched with his fore-quarters upon the she-ape. tarzan could see that the latter was already dead; but something within him made it seem quite necessary to rescue the useless body from the clutches of the enemy and to punish him. he shrieked taunts and insults at numa, and tearing dead branches from the tree in which he danced, hurled them at the lion. the apes followed his example. numa roared out in rage and vexation. he was hungry, but under such conditions he could not feed. the apes, if they had been left to themselves, would doubtless soon have left the lion to peaceful enjoyment of his feast, for was not the she dead? they could not restore her to life by throwing sticks at numa, and they might even now be feeding in quiet themselves; but tarzan was of a different mind. numa must be punished and driven away. he must be taught that even though he killed a mangani, he would not be permitted to feed upon his kill. the man-mind looked into the future, while the apes perceived only the immediate present. they would be content to escape today the menace of numa, while tarzan saw the necessity, and the means as well, of safeguarding the days to come. so he urged the great anthropoids on until numa was showered with missiles that kept his head dodging and his voice pealing forth its savage protest; but still he clung desperately to his kill. the twigs and branches hurled at numa, tarzan soon realized, did not hurt him greatly even when they struck him, and did not injure him at all, so the ape-man looked about for more effective missiles, nor did he have to look long. an out-cropping of decomposed granite not far from numa suggested ammunition of a much more painful nature. calling to the apes to watch him, tarzan slipped to the ground and gathered a handful of small fragments. he knew that when once they had seen him carry out his idea they would be much quicker to follow his lead than to obey his instructions, were he to command them to procure pieces of rock and hurl them at numa, for tarzan was not then king of the apes of the tribe of kerchak. that came in later years. now he was but a youth, though one who already had wrested for himself a place in the councils of the savage beasts among whom a strange fate had cast him. the sullen bulls of the older generation still hated him as beasts hate those of whom they are suspicious, whose scent characteristic is the scent characteristic of an alien order and, therefore, of an enemy order. the younger bulls, those who had grown up through childhood as his playmates, were as accustomed to tarzan's scent as to that of any other member of the tribe. they felt no greater suspicion of him than of any other bull of their acquaintance; yet they did not love him, for they loved none outside the mating season, and the animosities aroused by other bulls during that season lasted well over until the next. they were a morose and peevish band at best, though here and there were those among them in whom germinated the primal seeds of humanity--reversions to type, these, doubtless; reversions to the ancient progenitor who took the first step out of ape-hood toward humanness, when he walked more often upon his hind feet and discovered other things for idle hands to do. so now tarzan led where he could not yet command. he had long since discovered the apish propensity for mimicry and learned to make use of it. having filled his arms with fragments of rotted granite, he clambered again into a tree, and it pleased him to see that the apes had followed his example. during the brief respite while they were gathering their ammunition, numa had settled himself to feed; but scarce had he arranged himself and his kill when a sharp piece of rock hurled by the practiced hand of the ape-man struck him upon the cheek. his sudden roar of pain and rage was smothered by a volley from the apes, who had seen tarzan's act. numa shook his massive head and glared upward at his tormentors. for a half hour they pursued him with rocks and broken branches, and though he dragged his kill into densest thickets, yet they always found a way to reach him with their missiles, giving him no opportunity to feed, and driving him on and on. the hairless ape-thing with the man scent was worst of all, for he had even the temerity to advance upon the ground to within a few yards of the lord of the jungle, that he might with greater accuracy and force hurl the sharp bits of granite and the heavy sticks at him. time and again did numa charge--sudden, vicious charges--but the lithe, active tormentor always managed to elude him and with such insolent ease that the lion forgot even his great hunger in the consuming passion of his rage, leaving his meat for considerable spaces of time in vain efforts to catch his enemy. the apes and tarzan pursued the great beast to a natural clearing, where numa evidently determined to make a last stand, taking up his position in the center of the open space, which was far enough from any tree to render him practically immune from the rather erratic throwing of the apes, though tarzan still found him with most persistent and aggravating frequency. this, however, did not suit the ape-man, since numa now suffered an occasional missile with no more than a snarl, while he settled himself to partake of his delayed feast. tarzan scratched his head, pondering some more effective method of offense, for he had determined to prevent numa from profiting in any way through his attack upon the tribe. the man-mind reasoned against the future, while the shaggy apes thought only of their present hatred of this ancestral enemy. tarzan guessed that should numa find it an easy thing to snatch a meal from the tribe of kerchak, it would be but a short time before their existence would be one living nightmare of hideous watchfulness and dread. numa must be taught that the killing of an ape brought immediate punishment and no rewards. it would take but a few lessons to insure the former safety of the tribe. this must be some old lion whose failing strength and agility had forced him to any prey that he could catch; but even a single lion, undisputed, could exterminate the tribe, or at least make its existence so precarious and so terrifying that life would no longer be a pleasant condition. "let him hunt among the gomangani," thought tarzan. "he will find them easier prey. i will teach ferocious numa that he may not hunt the mangani." but how to wrest the body of his victim from the feeding lion was the first question to be solved. at last tarzan hit upon a plan. to anyone but tarzan of the apes it might have seemed rather a risky plan, and perhaps it did even to him; but tarzan rather liked things that contained a considerable element of danger. at any rate, i rather doubt that you or i would have chosen a similar plan for foiling an angry and a hungry lion. tarzan required assistance in the scheme he had hit upon and his assistant must be equally as brave and almost as active as he. the ape-man's eyes fell upon taug, the playmate of his childhood, the rival in his first love and now, of all the bulls of the tribe, the only one that might be thought to hold in his savage brain any such feeling toward tarzan as we describe among ourselves as friendship. at least, tarzan knew, taug was courageous, and he was young and agile and wonderfully muscled. "taug!" cried the ape-man. the great ape looked up from a dead limb he was attempting to tear from a lightning-blasted tree. "go close to numa and worry him," said tarzan. "worry him until he charges. lead him away from the body of mamka. keep him away as long as you can." taug nodded. he was across the clearing from tarzan. wresting the limb at last from the tree he dropped to the ground and advanced toward numa, growling and barking out his insults. the worried lion looked up and rose to his feet. his tail went stiffly erect and taug turned in flight, for he knew that warming signal of the charge. from behind the lion, tarzan ran quickly toward the center of the clearing and the body of mamka. numa, all his eyes for taug, did not see the ape-man. instead he shot forward after the fleeing bull, who had turned in flight not an instant too soon, since he reached the nearest tree but a yard or two ahead of the pursuing demon. like a cat the heavy anthropoid scampered up the bole of his sanctuary. numa's talons missed him by little more than inches. for a moment the lion paused beneath the tree, glaring up at the ape and roaring until the earth trembled, then he turned back again toward his kill, and as he did so, his tail shot once more to rigid erectness and he charged back even more ferociously than he had come, for what he saw was the naked man-thing running toward the farther trees with the bloody carcass of his prey across a giant shoulder. the apes, watching the grim race from the safety of the trees, screamed taunts at numa and warnings to tarzan. the high sun, hot and brilliant, fell like a spotlight upon the actors in the little clearing, portraying them in glaring relief to the audience in the leafy shadows of the surrounding trees. the light-brown body of the naked youth, all but hidden by the shaggy carcass of the killed ape, the red blood streaking his smooth hide, his muscles rolling, velvety, beneath. behind him the black-maned lion, head flattened, tail extended, racing, a jungle thoroughbred, across the sunlit clearing. ah, but this was life! with death at his heels, tarzan thrilled with the joy of such living as this; but would he reach the trees ahead of the rampant death so close behind? gunto swung from a limb in a tree before him. gunto was screaming warnings and advice. "catch me!" cried tarzan, and with his heavy burden leaped straight for the big bull hanging there by his hind feet and one forepaw. and gunto caught them--the big ape-man and the dead weight of the slain she-ape--caught them with one great, hairy paw and whirled them upward until tarzan's fingers closed upon a near-by branch. beneath, numa leaped; but gunto, heavy and awkward as he may have appeared, was as quick as manu, the monkey, so that the lion's talons but barely grazed him, scratching a bloody streak beneath one hairy arm. tarzan carried mamka's corpse to a high crotch, where even sheeta, the panther, could not get it. numa paced angrily back and forth beneath the tree, roaring frightfully. he had been robbed of his kill and his revenge also. he was very savage indeed; but his despoilers were well out of his reach, and after hurling a few taunts and missiles at him they swung away through the trees, fiercely reviling him. tarzan thought much upon the little adventure of that day. he foresaw what might happen should the great carnivora of the jungle turn their serious attention upon the tribe of kerchak, the great ape, but equally he thought upon the wild scramble of the apes for safety when numa first charged among them. there is little humor in the jungle that is not grim and awful. the beasts have little or no conception of humor; but the young englishman saw humor in many things which presented no humorous angle to his associates. since earliest childhood he had been a searcher after fun, much to the sorrow of his fellow-apes, and now he saw the humor of the frightened panic of the apes and the baffled rage of numa even in this grim jungle adventure which had robbed mamka of life, and jeopardized that of many members of the tribe. it was but a few weeks later that sheeta, the panther, made a sudden rush among the tribe and snatched a little balu from a tree where it had been hidden while its mother sought food. sheeta got away with his small prize unmolested. tarzan was very wroth. he spoke to the bulls of the ease with which numa and sheeta, in a single moon, had slain two members of the tribe. "they will take us all for food," he cried. "we hunt as we will through the jungle, paying no heed to approaching enemies. even manu, the monkey, does not so. he keeps two or three always watching for enemies. pacco, the zebra, and wappi, the antelope, have those about the herd who keep watch while the others feed, while we, the great mangani, let numa, and sabor, and sheeta come when they will and carry us off to feed their balus. "gr-r-rmph," said numgo. "what are we to do?" asked taug. "we, too, should have two or three always watching for the approach of numa, and sabor, and sheeta," replied tarzan. "no others need we fear, except histah, the snake, and if we watch for the others we will see histah if he comes, though gliding ever so silently." and so it was that the great apes of the tribe of kerchak posted sentries thereafter, who watched upon three sides while the tribe hunted, scattered less than had been their wont. but tarzan went abroad alone, for tarzan was a man-thing and sought amusement and adventure and such humor as the grim and terrible jungle offers to those who know it and do not fear it--a weird humor shot with blazing eyes and dappled with the crimson of lifeblood. while others sought only food and love, tarzan of the apes sought food and joy. one day he hovered above the palisaded village of mbonga, the chief, the jet cannibal of the jungle primeval. he saw, as he had seen many times before, the witch-doctor, rabba kega, decked out in the head and hide of gorgo, the buffalo. it amused tarzan to see a gomangani parading as gorgo; but it suggested nothing in particular to him until he chanced to see stretched against the side of mbonga's hut the skin of a lion with the head still on. then a broad grin widened the handsome face of the savage beast-youth. back into the jungle he went until chance, agility, strength, and cunning backed by his marvelous powers of perception, gave him an easy meal. if tarzan felt that the world owed him a living he also realized that it was for him to collect it, nor was there ever a better collector than this son of an english lord, who knew even less of the ways of his forbears than he did of the forbears themselves, which was nothing. it was quite dark when tarzan returned to the village of mbonga and took his now polished perch in the tree which overhangs the palisade upon one side of the walled enclosure. as there was nothing in particular to feast upon in the village there was little life in the single street, for only an orgy of flesh and native beer could draw out the people of mbonga. tonight they sat gossiping about their cooking fires, the older members of the tribe; or, if they were young, paired off in the shadows cast by the palm-thatched huts. tarzan dropped lightly into the village, and sneaking stealthily in the concealment of the denser shadows, approached the hut of the chief, mbonga. here he found that which he sought. there were warriors all about him; but they did not know that the feared devil-god slunk noiselessly so near them, nor did they see him possess himself of that which he coveted and depart from their village as noiselessly as he had come. later that night, as tarzan curled himself for sleep, he lay for a long time looking up at the burning planets and the twinkling stars and at goro the moon, and he smiled. he recalled how ludicrous the great bulls had appeared in their mad scramble for safety that day when numa had charged among them and seized mamka, and yet he knew them to be fierce and courageous. it was the sudden shock of surprise that always sent them into a panic; but of this tarzan was not as yet fully aware. that was something he was to learn in the near future. he fell asleep with a broad grin upon his face. manu, the monkey, awoke him in the morning by dropping discarded bean pods upon his upturned face from a branch a short distance above him. tarzan looked up and smiled. he had been awakened thus before many times. he and manu were fairly good friends, their friendship operating upon a reciprocal basis. sometimes manu would come running early in the morning to awaken tarzan and tell him that bara, the deer, was feeding close at hand, or that horta, the boar, was asleep in a mudhole hard by, and in return tarzan broke open the shells of the harder nuts and fruits for manu, or frightened away histah, the snake, and sheeta, the panther. the sun had been up for some time, and the tribe had already wandered off in search of food. manu indicated the direction they had taken with a wave of his hand and a few piping notes of his squeaky little voice. "come, manu," said tarzan, "and you will see that which shall make you dance for joy and squeal your wrinkled little head off. come, follow tarzan of the apes." with that he set off in the direction manu had indicated and above him, chattering, scolding and squealing, skipped manu, the monkey. across tarzan's shoulders was the thing he had stolen from the village of mbonga, the chief, the evening before. the tribe was feeding in the forest beside the clearing where gunto, and taug, and tarzan had so harassed numa and finally taken away from him the fruit of his kill. some of them were in the clearing itself. in peace and content they fed, for were there not three sentries, each watching upon a different side of the herd? tarzan had taught them this, and though he had been away for several days hunting alone, as he often did, or visiting at the cabin by the sea, they had not as yet forgotten his admonitions, and if they continued for a short time longer to post sentries, it would become a habit of their tribal life and thus be perpetuated indefinitely. but tarzan, who knew them better than they knew themselves, was confident that they had ceased to place the watchers about them the moment that he had left them, and now he planned not only to have a little fun at their expense but to teach them a lesson in preparedness, which, by the way, is even a more vital issue in the jungle than in civilized places. that you and i exist today must be due to the preparedness of some shaggy anthropoid of the oligocene. of course the apes of kerchak were always prepared, after their own way--tarzan had merely suggested a new and additional safeguard. gunto was posted today to the north of the clearing. he squatted in the fork of a tree from where he might view the jungle for quite a distance about him. it was he who first discovered the enemy. a rustling in the undergrowth attracted his attention, and a moment later he had a partial view of a shaggy mane and tawny yellow back. just a glimpse it was through the matted foliage beneath him; but it brought from gunto's leathern lungs a shrill "kreeg-ah!" which is the ape for beware, or danger. instantly the tribe took up the cry until "kreeg-ahs!" rang through the jungle about the clearing as apes swung quickly to places of safety among the lower branches of the trees and the great bulls hastened in the direction of gunto. and then into the clearing strode numa, the lion--majestic and mighty, and from a deep chest issued the moan and the cough and the rumbling roar that set stiff hairs to bristling from shaggy craniums down the length of mighty spines. inside the clearing, numa paused and on the instant there fell upon him from the trees near by a shower of broken rock and dead limbs torn from age-old trees. a dozen times he was hit, and then the apes ran down and gathered other rocks, pelting him unmercifully. numa turned to flee, but his way was barred by a fusilade of sharp-cornered missiles, and then, upon the edge of the clearing, great taug met him with a huge fragment of rock as large as a man's head, and down went the lord of the jungle beneath the stunning blow. with shrieks and roars and loud barkings the great apes of the tribe of kerchak rushed upon the fallen lion. sticks and stones and yellow fangs menaced the still form. in another moment, before he could regain consciousness, numa would be battered and torn until only a bloody mass of broken bones and matted hair remained of what had once been the most dreaded of jungle creatures. but even as the sticks and stones were raised above him and the great fangs bared to tear him, there descended like a plummet from the trees above a diminutive figure with long, white whiskers and a wrinkled face. square upon the body of numa it alighted and there it danced and screamed and shrieked out its challenge against the bulls of kerchak. for an instant they paused, paralyzed by the wonder of the thing. it was manu, the monkey, manu, the little coward, and here he was daring the ferocity of the great mangani, hopping about upon the carcass of numa, the lion, and crying out that they must not strike it again. and when the bulls paused, manu reached down and seized a tawny ear. with all his little might he tugged upon the heavy head until slowly it turned back, revealing the tousled, black head and clean-cut profile of tarzan of the apes. some of the older apes were for finishing what they had commenced; but taug, sullen, mighty taug, sprang quickly to the ape-man's side and straddling the unconscious form warned back those who would have struck his childhood playmate. and teeka, his mate, came too, taking her place with bared fangs at taug's side. others followed their example, until at last tarzan was surrounded by a ring of hairy champions who would permit no enemy to approach him. it was a surprised and chastened tarzan who opened his eyes to consciousness a few minutes later. he looked about him at the surrounding apes and slowly there returned to him a realization of what had occurred. gradually a broad grin illuminated his features. his bruises were many and they hurt; but the good that had come from his adventure was worth all that it had cost. he had learned, for instance, that the apes of kerchak had heeded his teaching, and he had learned that he had good friends among the sullen beasts whom he had thought without sentiment. he had discovered that manu, the monkey--even little, cowardly manu--had risked his life in his defense. it made tarzan very glad to know these things; but at the other lesson he had been taught he reddened. he had always been a joker, the only joker in the grim and terrible company; but now as he lay there half dead from his hurts, he almost swore a solemn oath forever to forego practical joking--almost; but not quite. 9 the nightmare the blacks of the village of mbonga, the chief, were feasting, while above them in a large tree sat tarzan of the apes--grim, terrible, empty, and envious. hunting had proved poor that day, for there are lean days as well as fat ones for even the greatest of the jungle hunters. oftentimes tarzan went empty for more than a full sun, and he had passed through entire moons during which he had been but barely able to stave off starvation; but such times were infrequent. there once had been a period of sickness among the grass-eaters which had left the plains almost bare of game for several years, and again the great cats had increased so rapidly and so overrun the country that their prey, which was also tarzan's, had been frightened off for a considerable time. but for the most part tarzan had fed well always. today, though, he had gone empty, one misfortune following another as rapidly as he raised new quarry, so that now, as he sat perched in the tree above the feasting blacks, he experienced all the pangs of famine and his hatred for his lifelong enemies waxed strong in his breast. it was tantalizing, indeed, to sit there hungry while these gomangani filled themselves so full of food that their stomachs seemed almost upon the point of bursting, and with elephant steaks at that! it was true that tarzan and tantor were the best of friends, and that tarzan never yet had tasted of the flesh of the elephant; but the gomangani evidently had slain one, and as they were eating of the flesh of their kill, tarzan was assailed by no doubts as to the ethics of his doing likewise, should he have the opportunity. had he known that the elephant had died of sickness several days before the blacks discovered the carcass, he might not have been so keen to partake of the feast, for tarzan of the apes was no carrion-eater. hunger, however, may blunt the most epicurean taste, and tarzan was not exactly an epicure. what he was at this moment was a very hungry wild beast whom caution was holding in leash, for the great cooking pot in the center of the village was surrounded by black warriors, through whom not even tarzan of the apes might hope to pass unharmed. it would be necessary, therefore, for the watcher to remain there hungry until the blacks had gorged themselves to stupor, and then, if they had left any scraps, to make the best meal he could from such; but to the impatient tarzan it seemed that the greedy gomangani would rather burst than leave the feast before the last morsel had been devoured. for a time they broke the monotony of eating by executing portions of a hunting dance, a maneuver which sufficiently stimulated digestion to permit them to fall to once more with renewed vigor; but with the consumption of appalling quantities of elephant meat and native beer they presently became too loggy for physical exertion of any sort, some reaching a stage where they no longer could rise from the ground, but lay conveniently close to the great cooking pot, stuffing themselves into unconsciousness. it was well past midnight before tarzan even could begin to see the end of the orgy. the blacks were now falling asleep rapidly; but a few still persisted. from before their condition tarzan had no doubt but that he easily could enter the village and snatch a handful of meat from before their noses; but a handful was not what he wanted. nothing less than a stomachful would allay the gnawing craving of that great emptiness. he must therefore have ample time to forage in peace. at last but a single warrior remained true to his ideals--an old fellow whose once wrinkled belly was now as smooth and as tight as the head of a drum. with evidences of great discomfort, and even pain, he would crawl toward the pot and drag himself slowly to his knees, from which position he could reach into the receptacle and seize a piece of meat. then he would roll over on his back with a loud groan and lie there while he slowly forced the food between his teeth and down into his gorged stomach. it was evident to tarzan that the old fellow would eat until he died, or until there was no more meat. the ape-man shook his head in disgust. what foul creatures were these gomangani? yet of all the jungle folk they alone resembled tarzan closely in form. tarzan was a man, and they, too, must be some manner of men, just as the little monkeys, and the great apes, and bolgani, the gorilla, were quite evidently of one great family, though differing in size and appearance and customs. tarzan was ashamed, for of all the beasts of the jungle, then, man was the most disgusting--man and dango, the hyena. only man and dango ate until they swelled up like a dead rat. tarzan had seen dango eat his way into the carcass of a dead elephant and then continue to eat so much that he had been unable to get out of the hole through which he had entered. now he could readily believe that man, given the opportunity, would do the same. man, too, was the most unlovely of creatures--with his skinny legs and his big stomach, his filed teeth, and his thick, red lips. man was disgusting. tarzan's gaze was riveted upon the hideous old warrior wallowing in filth beneath him. there! the thing was struggling to its knees to reach for another morsel of flesh. it groaned aloud in pain and yet it persisted in eating, eating, ever eating. tarzan could endure it no longer--neither his hunger nor his disgust. silently he slipped to the ground with the bole of the great tree between himself and the feaster. the man was still kneeling, bent almost double in agony, before the cooking pot. his back was toward the ape-man. swiftly and noiselessly tarzan approached him. there was no sound as steel fingers closed about the black throat. the struggle was short, for the man was old and already half stupefied from the effects of the gorging and the beer. tarzan dropped the inert mass and scooped several large pieces of meat from the cooking pot--enough to satisfy even his great hunger--then he raised the body of the feaster and shoved it into the vessel. when the other blacks awoke they would have something to think about! tarzan grinned. as he turned toward the tree with his meat, he picked up a vessel containing beer and raised it to his lips, but at the first taste he spat the stuff from his mouth and tossed the primitive tankard aside. he was quite sure that even dango would draw the line at such filthy tasting drink as that, and his contempt for man increased with the conviction. tarzan swung off into the jungle some half mile or so before he paused to partake of his stolen food. he noticed that it gave forth a strange and unpleasant odor, but assumed that this was due to the fact that it had stood in a vessel of water above a fire. tarzan was, of course, unaccustomed to cooked food. he did not like it; but he was very hungry and had eaten a considerable portion of his haul before it was really borne in upon him that the stuff was nauseating. it required far less than he had imagined it would to satisfy his appetite. throwing the balance to the ground he curled up in a convenient crotch and sought slumber; but slumber seemed difficult to woo. ordinarily tarzan of the apes was asleep as quickly as a dog after it curls itself upon a hearthrug before a roaring blaze; but tonight he squirmed and twisted, for at the pit of his stomach was a peculiar feeling that resembled nothing more closely than an attempt upon the part of the fragments of elephant meat reposing there to come out into the night and search for their elephant; but tarzan was adamant. he gritted his teeth and held them back. he was not to be robbed of his meal after waiting so long to obtain it. he had succeeded in dozing when the roaring of a lion awoke him. he sat up to discover that it was broad daylight. tarzan rubbed his eyes. could it be that he had really slept? he did not feel particularly refreshed as he should have after a good sleep. a noise attracted his attention, and he looked down to see a lion standing at the foot of the tree gazing hungrily at him. tarzan made a face at the king of beasts, whereat numa, greatly to the ape-man's surprise, started to climb up into the branches toward him. now, never before had tarzan seen a lion climb a tree, yet, for some unaccountable reason, he was not greatly surprised that this particular lion should do so. as the lion climbed slowly toward him, tarzan sought higher branches; but to his chagrin, he discovered that it was with the utmost difficulty that he could climb at all. again and again he slipped back, losing all that he had gained, while the lion kept steadily at his climbing, coming ever closer and closer to the ape-man. tarzan could see the hungry light in the yellow-green eyes. he could see the slaver on the drooping jowls, and the great fangs agape to seize and destroy him. clawing desperately, the ape-man at last succeeded in gaining a little upon his pursuer. he reached the more slender branches far aloft where he well knew no lion could follow; yet on and on came devil-faced numa. it was incredible; but it was true. yet what most amazed tarzan was that though he realized the incredibility of it all, he at the same time accepted it as a matter of course, first that a lion should climb at all and second that he should enter the upper terraces where even sheeta, the panther, dared not venture. to the very top of a tall tree the ape-man clawed his awkward way and after him came numa, the lion, moaning dismally. at last tarzan stood balanced upon the very utmost pinnacle of a swaying branch, high above the forest. he could go no farther. below him the lion came steadily upward, and tarzan of the apes realized that at last the end had come. he could not do battle upon a tiny branch with numa, the lion, especially with such a numa, to which swaying branches two hundred feet above the ground provided as substantial footing as the ground itself. nearer and nearer came the lion. another moment and he could reach up with one great paw and drag the ape-man downward to those awful jaws. a whirring noise above his head caused tarzan to glance apprehensively upward. a great bird was circling close above him. he never had seen so large a bird in all his life, yet he recognized it immediately, for had he not seen it hundreds of times in one of the books in the little cabin by the land-locked bay--the moss-grown cabin that with its contents was the sole heritage left by his dead and unknown father to the young lord greystoke? in the picture-book the great bird was shown flying far above the ground with a small child in its talons while, beneath, a distracted mother stood with uplifted hands. the lion was already reaching forth a taloned paw to seize him when the bird swooped and buried no less formidable talons in tarzan's back. the pain was numbing; but it was with a sense of relief that the ape-man felt himself snatched from the clutches of numa. with a great whirring of wings the bird rose rapidly until the forest lay far below. it made tarzan sick and dizzy to look down upon it from so great a height, so he closed his eyes tight and held his breath. higher and higher climbed the huge bird. tarzan opened his eyes. the jungle was so far away that he could see only a dim, green blur below him, but just above and quite close was the sun. tarzan reached out his hands and warmed them, for they were very cold. then a sudden madness seized him. where was the bird taking him? was he to submit thus passively to a feathered creature however enormous? was he, tarzan of the apes, mighty fighter, to die without striking a blow in his own defense? never! he snatched the hunting blade from his gee-string and thrusting upward drove it once, twice, thrice into the breast above him. the mighty wings fluttered a few more times, spasmodically, the talons relaxed their hold, and tarzan of the apes fell hurtling downward toward the distant jungle. it seemed to the ape-man that he fell for many minutes before he crashed through the leafy verdure of the tree tops. the smaller branches broke his fall, so that he came to rest for an instant upon the very branch upon which he had sought slumber the previous night. for an instant he toppled there in a frantic attempt to regain his equilibrium; but at last he rolled off, yet, clutching wildly, he succeeded in grasping the branch and hanging on. once more he opened his eyes, which he had closed during the fall. again it was night. with all his old agility he clambered back to the crotch from which he had toppled. below him a lion roared, and, looking downward, tarzan could see the yellow-green eyes shining in the moonlight as they bored hungrily upward through the darkness of the jungle night toward him. the ape-man gasped for breath. cold sweat stood out from every pore, there was a great sickness at the pit of tarzan's stomach. tarzan of the apes had dreamed his first dream. for a long time he sat watching for numa to climb into the tree after him, and listening for the sound of the great wings from above, for to tarzan of the apes his dream was a reality. he could not believe what he had seen and yet, having seen even these incredible things, he could not disbelieve the evidence of his own perceptions. never in all his life had tarzan's senses deceived him badly, and so, naturally, he had great faith in them. each perception which ever had been transmitted to tarzan's brain had been, with varying accuracy, a true perception. he could not conceive of the possibility of apparently having passed through such a weird adventure in which there was no grain of truth. that a stomach, disordered by decayed elephant flesh, a lion roaring in the jungle, a picture-book, and sleep could have so truly portrayed all the clear-cut details of what he had seemingly experienced was quite beyond his knowledge; yet he knew that numa could not climb a tree, he knew that there existed in the jungle no such bird as he had seen, and he knew, too, that he could not have fallen a tiny fraction of the distance he had hurtled downward, and lived. to say the least, he was a very puzzled tarzan as he tried to compose himself once more for slumber--a very puzzled and a very nauseated tarzan. as he thought deeply upon the strange occurrences of the night, he witnessed another remarkable happening. it was indeed quite preposterous, yet he saw it all with his own eyes--it was nothing less than histah, the snake, wreathing his sinuous and slimy way up the bole of the tree below him--histah, with the head of the old man tarzan had shoved into the cooking pot--the head and the round, tight, black, distended stomach. as the old man's frightful face, with upturned eyes, set and glassy, came close to tarzan, the jaws opened to seize him. the ape-man struck furiously at the hideous face, and as he struck the apparition disappeared. tarzan sat straight up upon his branch trembling in every limb, wide-eyed and panting. he looked all around him with his keen, jungle-trained eyes, but he saw naught of the old man with the body of histah, the snake, but on his naked thigh the ape-man saw a caterpillar, dropped from a branch above him. with a grimace he flicked it off into the darkness beneath. and so the night wore on, dream following dream, nightmare following nightmare, until the distracted ape-man started like a frightened deer at the rustling of the wind in the trees about him, or leaped to his feet as the uncanny laugh of a hyena burst suddenly upon a momentary jungle silence. but at last the tardy morning broke and a sick and feverish tarzan wound sluggishly through the dank and gloomy mazes of the forest in search of water. his whole body seemed on fire, a great sickness surged upward to his throat. he saw a tangle of almost impenetrable thicket, and, like the wild beast he was, he crawled into it to die alone and unseen, safe from the attacks of predatory carnivora. but he did not die. for a long time he wanted to; but presently nature and an outraged stomach relieved themselves in their own therapeutic manner, the ape-man broke into a violent perspiration and then fell into a normal and untroubled sleep which persisted well into the afternoon. when he awoke he found himself weak but no longer sick. once more he sought water, and after drinking deeply, took his way slowly toward the cabin by the sea. in times of loneliness and trouble it had long been his custom to seek there the quiet and restfulness which he could find nowhere else. as he approached the cabin and raised the crude latch which his father had fashioned so many years before, two small, blood-shot eyes watched him from the concealing foliage of the jungle close by. from beneath shaggy, beetling brows they glared maliciously upon him, maliciously and with a keen curiosity; then tarzan entered the cabin and closed the door after him. here, with all the world shut out from him, he could dream without fear of interruption. he could curl up and look at the pictures in the strange things which were books, he could puzzle out the printed word he had learned to read without knowledge of the spoken language it represented, he could live in a wonderful world of which he had no knowledge beyond the covers of his beloved books. numa and sabor might prowl about close to him, the elements might rage in all their fury; but here at least, tarzan might be entirely off his guard in a delightful relaxation which gave him all his faculties for the uninterrupted pursuit of this greatest of all his pleasures. today he turned to the picture of the huge bird which bore off the little tarmangani in its talons. tarzan puckered his brows as he examined the colored print. yes, this was the very bird that had carried him off the day before, for to tarzan the dream had been so great a reality that he still thought another day and a night had passed since he had lain down in the tree to sleep. but the more he thought upon the matter the less positive he was as to the verity of the seeming adventure through which he had passed, yet where the real had ceased and the unreal commenced he was quite unable to determine. had he really then been to the village of the blacks at all, had he killed the old gomangani, had he eaten of the elephant meat, had he been sick? tarzan scratched his tousled black head and wondered. it was all very strange, yet he knew that he never had seen numa climb a tree, or histah with the head and belly of an old black man whom tarzan already had slain. finally, with a sigh he gave up trying to fathom the unfathomable, yet in his heart of hearts he knew that something had come into his life that he never before had experienced, another life which existed when he slept and the consciousness of which was carried over into his waking hours. then he commenced to wonder if some of these strange creatures which he met in his sleep might not slay him, for at such times tarzan of the apes seemed to be a different tarzan, sluggish, helpless and timid--wishing to flee his enemies as fled bara, the deer, most fearful of creatures. thus, with a dream, came the first faint tinge of a knowledge of fear, a knowledge which tarzan, awake, had never experienced, and perhaps he was experiencing what his early forbears passed through and transmitted to posterity in the form of superstition first and religion later; for they, as tarzan, had seen things at night which they could not explain by the daylight standards of sense perception or of reason, and so had built for themselves a weird explanation which included grotesque shapes, possessed of strange and uncanny powers, to whom they finally came to attribute all those inexplicable phenomena of nature which with each recurrence filled them with awe, with wonder, or with terror. and as tarzan concentrated his mind on the little bugs upon the printed page before him, the active recollection of the strange adventures presently merged into the text of that which he was reading--a story of bolgani, the gorilla, in captivity. there was a more or less lifelike illustration of bolgani in colors and in a cage, with many remarkable looking tarmangani standing against a rail and peering curiously at the snarling brute. tarzan wondered not a little, as he always did, at the odd and seemingly useless array of colored plumage which covered the bodies of the tarmangani. it always caused him to grin a trifle when he looked at these strange creatures. he wondered if they so covered their bodies from shame of their hairlessness or because they thought the odd things they wore added any to the beauty of their appearance. particularly was tarzan amused by the grotesque headdresses of the pictured people. he wondered how some of the shes succeeded in balancing theirs in an upright position, and he came as near to laughing aloud as he ever had, as he contemplated the funny little round things upon the heads of the hes. slowly the ape-man picked out the meaning of the various combinations of letters on the printed page, and as he read, the little bugs, for as such he always thought of the letters, commenced to run about in a most confusing manner, blurring his vision and befuddling his thoughts. twice he brushed the back of a hand smartly across his eyes; but only for a moment could he bring the bugs back to coherent and intelligible form. he had slept ill the night before and now he was exhausted from loss of sleep, from sickness, and from the slight fever he had had, so that it became more and more difficult to fix his attention, or to keep his eyes open. tarzan realized that he was falling asleep, and just as the realization was borne in upon him and he had decided to relinquish himself to an inclination which had assumed almost the proportions of a physical pain, he was aroused by the opening of the cabin door. turning quickly toward the interruption tarzan was amazed, for a moment, to see bulking large in the doorway the huge and hairy form of bolgani, the gorilla. now there was scarcely a denizen of the great jungle with whom tarzan would rather not have been cooped up inside the small cabin than bolgani, the gorilla, yet he felt no fear, even though his quick eye noted that bolgani was in the throes of that jungle madness which seizes upon so many of the fiercer males. ordinarily the huge gorillas avoid conflict, hide themselves from the other jungle folk, and are generally the best of neighbors; but when they are attacked, or the madness seizes them, there is no jungle denizen so bold and fierce as to deliberately seek a quarrel with them. but for tarzan there was no escape. bolgani was glowering at him from red-rimmed, wicked eyes. in a moment he would rush in and seize the ape-man. tarzan reached for the hunting knife where he had lain it on the table beside him; but as his fingers did not immediately locate the weapon, he turned a quick glance in search of it. as he did so his eyes fell upon the book he had been looking at which still lay open at the picture of bolgani. tarzan found his knife, but he merely fingered it idly and grinned in the direction of the advancing gorilla. not again would he be fooled by empty things which came while he slept! in a moment, no doubt, bolgani would turn into pamba, the rat, with the head of tantor, the elephant. tarzan had seen enough of such strange happenings recently to have some idea as to what he might expect; but this time bolgani did not alter his form as he came slowly toward the young ape-man. tarzan was a bit puzzled, too, that he felt no desire to rush frantically to some place of safety, as had been the sensation most conspicuous in the other of his new and remarkable adventures. he was just himself now, ready to fight, if necessary; but still sure that no flesh and blood gorilla stood before him. the thing should be fading away into thin air by now, thought tarzan, or changing into something else; yet it did not. instead it loomed clear-cut and real as bolgani himself, the magnificent dark coat glistening with life and health in a bar of sunlight which shot across the cabin through the high window behind the young lord greystoke. this was quite the most realistic of his sleep adventures, thought tarzan, as he passively awaited the next amusing incident. and then the gorilla charged. two mighty, calloused hands seized upon the ape-man, great fangs were bared close to his face, a hideous growl burst from the cavernous throat and hot breath fanned tarzan's cheek, and still he sat grinning at the apparition. tarzan might be fooled once or twice, but not for so many times in succession! he knew that this bolgani was no real bolgani, for had he been he never could have gained entrance to the cabin, since only tarzan knew how to operate the latch. the gorilla seemed puzzled by the strange passivity of the hairless ape. he paused an instant with his jaws snarling close to the other's throat, then he seemed suddenly to come to some decision. whirling the ape-man across a hairy shoulder, as easily as you or i might lift a babe in arms, bolgani turned and dashed out into the open, racing toward the great trees. now, indeed, was tarzan sure that this was a sleep adventure, and so grinned largely as the giant gorilla bore him, unresisting, away. presently, reasoned tarzan, he would awaken and find himself back in the cabin where he had fallen asleep. he glanced back at the thought and saw the cabin door standing wide open. this would never do! always had he been careful to close and latch it against wild intruders. manu, the monkey, would make sad havoc there among tarzan's treasures should he have access to the interior for even a few minutes. the question which arose in tarzan's mind was a baffling one. where did sleep adventures end and reality commence? how was he to be sure that the cabin door was not really open? everything about him appeared quite normal--there were none of the grotesque exaggerations of his former sleep adventures. it would be better then to be upon the safe side and make sure that the cabin door was closed--it would do no harm even if all that seemed to be happening were not happening at all. tarzan essayed to slip from bolgani's shoulder; but the great beast only growled ominously and gripped him tighter. with a mighty effort the ape-man wrenched himself loose, and as he slid to the ground, the dream gorilla turned ferociously upon him, seized him once more and buried great fangs in a sleek, brown shoulder. the grin of derision faded from tarzan's lips as the pain and the hot blood aroused his fighting instincts. asleep or awake, this thing was no longer a joke! biting, tearing, and snarling, the two rolled over upon the ground. the gorilla now was frantic with insane rage. again and again he loosed his hold upon the ape-man's shoulder in an attempt to seize the jugular; but tarzan of the apes had fought before with creatures who struck first for the vital vein, and each time he wriggled out of harm's way as he strove to get his fingers upon his adversary's throat. at last he succeeded--his great muscles tensed and knotted beneath his smooth hide as he forced with every ounce of his mighty strength to push the hairy torso from him. and as he choked bolgani and strained him away, his other hand crept slowly upward between them until the point of the hunting knife rested over the savage heart--there was a quick movement of the steel-thewed wrist and the blade plunged to its goal. bolgani, the gorilla, voiced a single frightful shriek, tore himself loose from the grasp of the ape-man, rose to his feet, staggered a few steps and then plunged to earth. there were a few spasmodic movements of the limbs and the brute was still. tarzan of the apes stood looking down upon his kill, and as he stood there he ran his fingers through his thick, black shock of hair. presently he stooped and touched the dead body. some of the red life-blood of the gorilla crimsoned his fingers. he raised them to his nose and sniffed. then he shook his head and turned toward the cabin. the door was still open. he closed it and fastened the latch. returning toward the body of his kill he again paused and scratched his head. if this was a sleep adventure, what then was reality? how was he to know the one from the other? how much of all that had happened in his life had been real and how much unreal? he placed a foot upon the prostrate form and raising his face to the heavens gave voice to the kill cry of the bull ape. far in the distance a lion answered. it was very real and, yet, he did not know. puzzled, he turned away into the jungle. no, he did not know what was real and what was not; but there was one thing that he did know--never again would he eat of the flesh of tantor, the elephant. 10 the battle for teeka the day was perfect. a cool breeze tempered the heat of the equatorial sun. peace had reigned within the tribe for weeks and no alien enemy had trespassed upon its preserves from without. to the ape-mind all this was sufficient evidence that the future would be identical with the immediate past--that utopia would persist. the sentinels, now from habit become a fixed tribal custom, either relaxed their vigilance or entirely deserted their posts, as the whim seized them. the tribe was far scattered in search of food. thus may peace and prosperity undermine the safety of the most primitive community even as it does that of the most cultured. even the individuals became less watchful and alert, so that one might have thought numa and sabor and sheeta entirely deleted from the scheme of things. the shes and the balus roamed unguarded through the sullen jungle, while the greedy males foraged far afield, and thus it was that teeka and gazan, her balu, hunted upon the extreme southern edge of the tribe with no great male near them. still farther south there moved through the forest a sinister figure--a huge bull ape, maddened by solitude and defeat. a week before he had contended for the kingship of a tribe far distant, and now battered, and still sore, he roamed the wilderness an outcast. later he might return to his own tribe and submit to the will of the hairy brute he had attempted to dethrone; but for the time being he dared not do so, since he had sought not only the crown but the wives, as well, of his lord and master. it would require an entire moon at least to bring forgetfulness to him he had wronged, and so toog wandered a strange jungle, grim, terrible, hate-filled. it was in this mental state that toog came unexpectedly upon a young she feeding alone in the jungle--a stranger she, lithe and strong and beautiful beyond compare. toog caught his breath and slunk quickly to one side of the trail where the dense foliage of the tropical underbrush concealed him from teeka while permitting him to feast his eyes upon her loveliness. but not alone were they concerned with teeka--they roved the surrounding jungle in search of the bulls and cows and balus of her tribe, though principally for the bulls. when one covets a she of an alien tribe one must take into consideration the great, fierce, hairy guardians who seldom wander far from their wards and who will fight a stranger to the death in protection of the mate or offspring of a fellow, precisely as they would fight for their own. toog could see no sign of any ape other than the strange she and a young balu playing near by. his wicked, blood-shot eyes half closed as they rested upon the charms of the former--as for the balu, one snap of those great jaws upon the back of its little neck would prevent it from raising any unnecessary alarm. toog was a fine, big male, resembling in many ways teeka's mate, taug. each was in his prime, and each was wonderfully muscled, perfectly fanged and as horrifyingly ferocious as the most exacting and particular she could wish. had toog been of her own tribe, teeka might as readily have yielded to him as to taug when her mating time arrived; but now she was taug's and no other male could claim her without first defeating taug in personal combat. and even then teeka retained some rights in the matter. if she did not favor a correspondent, she could enter the lists with her rightful mate and do her part toward discouraging his advances, a part, too, which would prove no mean assistance to her lord and master, for teeka, even though her fangs were smaller than a male's, could use them to excellent effect. just now teeka was occupied in a fascinating search for beetles, to the exclusion of all else. she did not realize how far she and gazan had become separated from the balance of the tribe, nor were her defensive senses upon the alert as they should have been. months of immunity from danger under the protecting watchfulness of the sentries, which tarzan had taught the tribe to post, had lulled them all into a sense of peaceful security based on that fallacy which has wrecked many enlightened communities in the past and will continue to wreck others in the future--that because they have not been attacked they never will be. toog, having satisfied himself that only the she and her balu were in the immediate vicinity, crept stealthily forward. teeka's back was toward him when he finally rushed upon her; but her senses were at last awakened to the presence of danger and she wheeled to face the strange bull just before he reached her. toog halted a few paces from her. his anger had fled before the seductive feminine charms of the stranger. he made conciliatory noises--a species of clucking sound with his broad, flat lips--that were, too, not greatly dissimilar to that which might be produced in an osculatory solo. but teeka only bared her fangs and growled. little gazan started to run toward his mother, but she warned him away with a quick "kreeg-ah!" telling him to run high into a tall tree. evidently teeka was not favorably impressed by her new suitor. toog realized this and altered his methods accordingly. he swelled his giant chest, beat upon it with his calloused knuckles and swaggered to and fro before her. "i am toog," he boasted. "look at my fighting fangs. look at my great arms and my mighty legs. with one bite i can slay your biggest bull. alone have i slain sheeta. i am toog. toog wants you." then he waited for the effect, nor did he have long to wait. teeka turned with a swiftness which belied her great weight and bolted in the opposite direction. toog, with an angry growl, leaped in pursuit; but the smaller, lighter female was too fleet for him. he chased her for a few yards and then, foaming and barking, he halted and beat upon the ground with his hard fists. from the tree above him little gazan looked down and witnessed the stranger bull's discomfiture. being young, and thinking himself safe above the reach of the heavy male, gazan screamed an ill-timed insult at their tormentor. toog looked up. teeka had halted at a little distance--she would not go far from her balu; that toog quickly realized and as quickly determined to take advantage of. he saw that the tree in which the young ape squatted was isolated and that gazan could not reach another without coming to earth. he would obtain the mother through her love for her young. he swung himself into the lower branches of the tree. little gazan ceased to insult him; his expression of deviltry changed to one of apprehension, which was quickly followed by fear as toog commenced to ascend toward him. teeka screamed to gazan to climb higher, and the little fellow scampered upward among the tiny branches which would not support the weight of the great bull; but nevertheless toog kept on climbing. teeka was not fearful. she knew that he could not ascend far enough to reach gazan, so she sat at a little distance from the tree and applied jungle opprobrium to him. being a female, she was a past master of the art. but she did not know the malevolent cunning of toog's little brain. she took it for granted that the bull would climb as high as he could toward gazan and then, finding that he could not reach him, resume his pursuit of her, which she knew would prove equally fruitless. so sure was she of the safety of her balu and her own ability to take care of herself that she did not voice the cry for help which would soon have brought the other members of the tribe flocking to her side. toog slowly reached the limit to which he dared risk his great weight to the slender branches. gazan was still fifteen feet above him. the bull braced himself and seized the main branch in his powerful hands, then he commenced shaking it vigorously. teeka was appalled. instantly she realized what the bull purposed. gazan clung far out upon a swaying limb. at the first shake he lost his balance, though he did not quite fall, clinging still with his four hands; but toog redoubled his efforts; the shaking produced a violent snapping of the limb to which the young ape clung. teeka saw all too plainly what the outcome must be and forgetting her own danger in the depth of her mother love, rushed forward to ascend the tree and give battle to the fearsome creature that menaced the life of her little one. but before ever she reached the bole, toog had succeeded, by violent shaking of the branch, to loosen gazan's hold. with a cry the little fellow plunged down through the foliage, clutching futilely for a new hold, and alighted with a sickening thud at his mother's feet, where he lay silent and motionless. moaning, teeka stooped to lift the still form in her arms; but at the same instant toog was upon her. struggling and biting she fought to free herself; but the giant muscles of the great bull were too much for her lesser strength. toog struck and choked her repeatedly until finally, half unconscious, she lapsed into quasi submission. then the bull lifted her to his shoulder and turned back to the trail toward the south from whence he had come. upon the ground lay the quiet form of little gazan. he did not moan. he did not move. the sun rose slowly toward meridian. a mangy thing, lifting its nose to scent the jungle breeze, crept through the underbrush. it was dango, the hyena. presently its ugly muzzle broke through some near-by foliage and its cruel eyes fastened upon gazan. early that morning, tarzan of the apes had gone to the cabin by the sea, where he passed many an hour at such times as the tribe was ranging in the vicinity. on the floor lay the skeleton of a man--all that remained of the former lord greystoke--lay as it had fallen some twenty years before when kerchak, the great ape, had thrown it, lifeless, there. long since had the termites and the small rodents picked clean the sturdy english bones. for years tarzan had seen it lying there, giving it no more attention than he gave the countless thousand bones that strewed his jungle haunts. on the bed another, smaller, skeleton reposed and the youth ignored it as he ignored the other. how could he know that the one had been his father, the other his mother? the little pile of bones in the rude cradle, fashioned with such loving care by the former lord greystoke, meant nothing to him--that one day that little skull was to help prove his right to a proud title was as far beyond his ken as the satellites of the suns of orion. to tarzan they were bones--just bones. he did not need them, for there was no meat left upon them, and they were not in his way, for he knew no necessity for a bed, and the skeleton upon the floor he easily could step over. today he was restless. he turned the pages first of one book and then of another. he glanced at pictures which he knew by heart, and tossed the books aside. he rummaged for the thousandth time in the cupboard. he took out a bag which contained several small, round pieces of metal. he had played with them many times in the years gone by; but always he replaced them carefully in the bag, and the bag in the cupboard, upon the very shelf where first he had discovered it. in strange ways did heredity manifest itself in the ape-man. come of an orderly race, he himself was orderly without knowing why. the apes dropped things wherever their interest in them waned--in the tall grass or from the high-flung branches of the trees. what they dropped they sometimes found again, by accident; but not so the ways of tarzan. for his few belongings he had a place and scrupulously he returned each thing to its proper place when he was done with it. the round pieces of metal in the little bag always interested him. raised pictures were upon either side, the meaning of which he did not quite understand. the pieces were bright and shiny. it amused him to arrange them in various figures upon the table. hundreds of times had he played thus. today, while so engaged, he dropped a lovely yellow piece--an english sovereign--which rolled beneath the bed where lay all that was mortal of the once beautiful lady alice. true to form, tarzan at once dropped to his hands and knees and searched beneath the bed for the lost gold piece. strange as it might appear, he had never before looked beneath the bed. he found the gold piece, and something else he found, too--a small wooden box with a loose cover. bringing them both out he returned the sovereign to its bag and the bag to its shelf within the cupboard; then he investigated the box. it contained a quantity of cylindrical bits of metal, cone-shaped at one end and flat at the other, with a projecting rim. they were all quite green and dull, coated with years of verdigris. tarzan removed a handful of them from the box and examined them. he rubbed one upon another and discovered that the green came off, leaving a shiny surface for two-thirds of their length and a dull gray over the cone-shaped end. finding a bit of wood he rubbed one of the cylinders rapidly and was rewarded by a lustrous sheen which pleased him. at his side hung a pocket pouch taken from the body of one of the numerous black warriors he had slain. into this pouch he put a handful of the new playthings, thinking to polish them at his leisure; then he replaced the box beneath the bed, and finding nothing more to amuse him, left the cabin and started back in the direction of the tribe. shortly before he reached them he heard a great commotion ahead of him--the loud screams of shes and balus, the savage, angry barking and growling of the great bulls. instantly he increased his speed, for the "kreeg-ahs" that came to his ears warned him that something was amiss with his fellows. while tarzan had been occupied with his own devices in the cabin of his dead sire, taug, teeka's mighty mate, had been hunting a mile to the north of the tribe. at last, his belly filled, he had turned lazily back toward the clearing where he had last seen the tribe and presently commenced passing its members scattered alone or in twos or threes. nowhere did he see teeka or gazan, and soon he began inquiring of the other apes where they might be; but none had seen them recently. now the lower orders are not highly imaginative. they do not, as you and i, paint vivid mental pictures of things which might have occurred, and so taug did not now apprehend that any misfortune had overtaken his mate and their off-spring--he merely knew that he wished to find teeka that he might lie down in the shade and have her scratch his back while his breakfast digested; but though he called to her and searched for her and asked each whom he met, he could find no trace of teeka, nor of gazan either. he was beginning to become peeved and had about made up his mind to chastise teeka for wandering so far afield when he wanted her. he was moving south along a game trail, his calloused soles and knuckles giving forth no sound, when he came upon dango at the opposite side of a small clearing. the eater of carrion did not see taug, for all his eyes were for something which lay in the grass beneath a tree--something upon which he was sneaking with the cautious stealth of his breed. taug, always cautious himself, as it behooves one to be who fares up and down the jungle and desires to survive, swung noiselessly into a tree, where he could have a better view of the clearing. he did not fear dango; but he wanted to see what it was that dango stalked. in a way, possibly, he was actuated as much by curiosity as by caution. and when taug reached a place in the branches from which he could have an unobstructed view of the clearing he saw dango already sniffing at something directly beneath him--something which taug instantly recognized as the lifeless form of his little gazan. with a cry so frightful, so bestial, that it momentarily paralyzed the startled dango, the great ape launched his mighty bulk upon the surprised hyena. with a cry and a snarl, dango, crushed to earth, turned to tear at his assailant; but as effectively might a sparrow turn upon a hawk. taug's great, gnarled fingers closed upon the hyena's throat and back, his jaws snapped once on the mangy neck, crushing the vertebrae, and then he hurled the dead body contemptuously aside. again he raised his voice in the call of the bull ape to its mate, but there was no reply; then he leaned down to sniff at the body of gazan. in the breast of this savage, hideous beast there beat a heart which was moved, however slightly, by the same emotions of paternal love which affect us. even had we no actual evidence of this, we must know it still, since only thus might be explained the survival of the human race in which the jealousy and selfishness of the bulls would, in the earliest stages of the race, have wiped out the young as rapidly as they were brought into the world had not god implanted in the savage bosom that paternal love which evidences itself most strongly in the protective instinct of the male. in taug the protective instinct was not alone highly developed; but affection for his offspring as well, for taug was an unusually intelligent specimen of these great, manlike apes which the natives of the gobi speak of in whispers; but which no white man ever had seen, or, if seeing, lived to tell of until tarzan of the apes came among them. and so taug felt sorrow as any other father might feel sorrow at the loss of a little child. to you little gazan might have seemed a hideous and repulsive creature, but to taug and teeka he was as beautiful and as cute as is your little mary or johnnie or elizabeth ann to you, and he was their firstborn, their only balu, and a he--three things which might make a young ape the apple of any fond father's eye. for a moment taug sniffed at the quiet little form. with his muzzle and his tongue he smoothed and caressed the rumpled coat. from his savage lips broke a low moan; but quickly upon the heels of sorrow came the overmastering desire for revenge. leaping to his feet he screamed out a volley of "kreegahs," punctuated from time to time by the blood-freezing cry of an angry, challenging bull--a rage-mad bull with the blood lust strong upon him. answering his cries came the cries of the tribe as they swung through the trees toward him. it was these that tarzan heard on his return from his cabin, and in reply to them he raised his own voice and hurried forward with increased speed until he fairly flew through the middle terraces of the forest. when at last he came upon the tribe he saw their members gathered about taug and something which lay quietly upon the ground. dropping among them, tarzan approached the center of the group. taug was still roaring out his challenges; but when he saw tarzan he ceased and stooping picked up gazan in his arms and held him out for tarzan to see. of all the bulls of the tribe, taug held affection for tarzan only. tarzan he trusted and looked up to as one wiser and more cunning. to tarzan he came now--to the playmate of his balu days, the companion of innumerable battles of his maturity. when tarzan saw the still form in taug's arms, a low growl broke from his lips, for he too loved teeka's little balu. "who did it?" he asked. "where is teeka?" "i do not know," replied taug. "i found him lying here with dango about to feed upon him; but it was not dango that did it--there are no fang marks upon him." tarzan came closer and placed an ear against gazan's breast. "he is not dead," he said. "maybe he will not die." he pressed through the crowd of apes and circled once about them, examining the ground step by step. suddenly he stopped and placing his nose close to the earth sniffed. then he sprang to his feet, giving a peculiar cry. taug and the others pressed forward, for the sound told them that the hunter had found the spoor of his quarry. "a stranger bull has been here," said tarzan. "it was he that hurt gazan. he has carried off teeka." taug and the other bulls commenced to roar and threaten; but they did nothing. had the stranger bull been within sight they would have torn him to pieces; but it did not occur to them to follow him. "if the three bulls had been watching around the tribe this would not have happened," said tarzan. "such things will happen as long as you do not keep the three bulls watching for an enemy. the jungle is full of enemies, and yet you let your shes and your balus feed where they will, alone and unprotected. tarzan goes now--he goes to find teeka and bring her back to the tribe." the idea appealed to the other bulls. "we will all go," they cried. "no," said tarzan, "you will not all go. we cannot take shes and balus when we go out to hunt and fight. you must remain to guard them or you will lose them all." they scratched their heads. the wisdom of his advice was dawning upon them, but at first they had been carried away by the new idea--the idea of following up an enemy offender to wrest his prize from him and punish him. the community instinct was ingrained in their characters through ages of custom. they did not know why they had not thought to pursue and punish the offender--they could not know that it was because they had as yet not reached a mental plane which would permit them to work as individuals. in times of stress, the community instinct sent them huddling into a compact herd where the great bulls, by the weight of their combined strength and ferocity, could best protect them from an enemy. the idea of separating to do battle with a foe had not yet occurred to them--it was too foreign to custom, too inimical to community interests; but to tarzan it was the first and most natural thought. his senses told him that there was but a single bull connected with the attack upon teeka and gazan. a single enemy did not require the entire tribe for his punishment. two swift bulls could quickly overhaul him and rescue teeka. in the past no one ever had thought to go forth in search of the shes that were occasionally stolen from the tribe. if numa, sabor, sheeta or a wandering bull ape from another tribe chanced to carry off a maid or a matron while no one was looking, that was the end of it--she was gone, that was all. the bereaved husband, if the victim chanced to have been mated, growled around for a day or two and then, if he were strong enough, took another mate within the tribe, and if not, wandered far into the jungle on the chance of stealing one from another community. in the past tarzan of the apes had condoned this practice for the reason that he had had no interest in those who had been stolen; but teeka had been his first love and teeka's balu held a place in his heart such as a balu of his own would have held. just once before had tarzan wished to follow and revenge. that had been years before when kulonga, the son of mbonga, the chief, had slain kala. then, single-handed, tarzan had pursued and avenged. now, though to a lesser degree, he was moved by the same passion. he turned toward taug. "leave gazan with mumga," he said. "she is old and her fangs are broken and she is no good; but she can take care of gazan until we return with teeka, and if gazan is dead when we come back," he turned to address mumga, "i will kill you, too." "where are we going?" asked taug. "we are going to get teeka," replied the ape-man, "and kill the bull who has stolen her. come!" he turned again to the spoor of the stranger bull, which showed plainly to his trained senses, nor did he glance back to note if taug followed. the latter laid gazan in mumga's arms with a parting: "if he dies tarzan will kill you," and he followed after the brown-skinned figure that already was moving at a slow trot along the jungle trail. no other bull of the tribe of kerchak was so good a trailer as tarzan, for his trained senses were aided by a high order of intelligence. his judgment told him the natural trail for a quarry to follow, so that he need but note the most apparent marks upon the way, and today the trail of toog was as plain to him as type upon a printed page to you or me. following close behind the lithe figure of the ape-man came the huge and shaggy bull ape. no words passed between them. they moved as silently as two shadows among the myriad shadows of the forest. alert as his eyes and ears, was tarzan's patrician nose. the spoor was fresh, and now that they had passed from the range of the strong ape odor of the tribe he had little difficulty in following toog and teeka by scent alone. teeka's familiar scent spoor told both tarzan and taug that they were upon her trail, and soon the scent of toog became as familiar as the other. they were progressing rapidly when suddenly dense clouds overcast the sun. tarzan accelerated his pace. now he fairly flew along the jungle trail, or, where toog had taken to the trees, followed nimbly as a squirrel along the bending, undulating pathway of the foliage branches, swinging from tree to tree as toog had swung before them; but more rapidly because they were not handicapped by a burden such as toog's. tarzan felt that they must be almost upon the quarry, for the scent spoor was becoming stronger and stronger, when the jungle was suddenly shot by livid lightning, and a deafening roar of thunder reverberated through the heavens and the forest until the earth trembled and shook. then came the rain--not as it comes to us of the temperate zones, but as a mighty avalanche of water--a deluge which spills tons instead of drops upon the bending forest giants and the terrified creatures which haunt their shade. and the rain did what tarzan knew that it would do--it wiped the spoor of the quarry from the face of the earth. for a half hour the torrents fell--then the sun burst forth, jeweling the forest with a million scintillant gems; but today the ape-man, usually alert to the changing wonders of the jungle, saw them not. only the fact that the spoor of teeka and her abductor was obliterated found lodgment in his thoughts. even among the branches of the trees there are well-worn trails, just as there are trails upon the surface of the ground; but in the trees they branch and cross more often, since the way is more open than among the dense undergrowth at the surface. along one of these well-marked trails tarzan and taug continued after the rain had ceased, because the ape-man knew that this was the most logical path for the thief to follow; but when they came to a fork, they were at a loss. here they halted, while tarzan examined every branch and leaf which might have been touched by the fleeing ape. he sniffed the bole of the tree, and with his keen eyes he sought to find upon the bark some sign of the way the quarry had taken. it was slow work and all the time, tarzan knew, the bull of the alien tribe was forging steadily away from them--gaining precious minutes that might carry him to safety before they could catch up with him. first along one fork he went, and then another, applying every test that his wonderful junglecraft was cognizant of; but again and again he was baffled, for the scent had been washed away by the heavy downpour, in every exposed place. for a half hour tarzan and taug searched, until at last, upon the bottom of a broad leaf, tarzan's keen nose caught the faint trace of the scent spoor of toog, where the leaf had brushed a hairy shoulder as the great ape passed through the foliage. once again the two took up the trail, but it was slow work now and there were many discouraging delays when the spoor seemed lost beyond recovery. to you or me there would have been no spoor, even before the coming of the rain, except, possibly, where toog had come to earth and followed a game trail. in such places the imprint of a huge handlike foot and the knuckles of one great hand were sometimes plain enough for an ordinary mortal to read. tarzan knew from these and other indications that the ape was yet carrying teeka. the depth of the imprint of his feet indicated a much greater weight than that of any of the larger bulls, for they were made under the combined weight of toog and teeka, while the fact that the knuckles of but one hand touched the ground at any time showed that the other hand was occupied in some other business--the business of holding the prisoner to a hairy shoulder. tarzan could follow, in sheltered places, the changing of the burden from one shoulder to another, as indicated by the deepening of the foot imprint upon the side of the load, and the changing of the knuckle imprints from one side of the trail to the other. there were stretches along the surface paths where the ape had gone for considerable distances entirely erect upon his hind feet--walking as a man walks; but the same might have been true of any of the great anthropoids of the same species, for, unlike the chimpanzee and the gorilla, they walk without the aid of their hands quite as readily as with. it was such things, however, which helped to identify to tarzan and to taug the appearance of the abductor, and with his individual scent characteristic already indelibly impressed upon their memories, they were in a far better position to know him when they came upon him, even should he have disposed of teeka before, than is a modern sleuth with his photographs and bertillon measurements, equipped to recognize a fugitive from civilized justice. but with all their high-strung and delicately attuned perceptive faculties the two bulls of the tribe of kerchak were often sore pressed to follow the trail at all, and at best were so delayed that in the afternoon of the second day, they still had not overhauled the fugitive. the scent was now strong, for it had been made since the rain, and tarzan knew that it would not be long before they came upon the thief and his loot. above them, as they crept stealthily forward, chattered manu, the monkey, and his thousand fellows; squawked and screamed the brazen-throated birds of plumage; buzzed and hummed the countless insects amid the rustling of the forest leaves, and, as they passed, a little gray-beard, squeaking and scolding upon a swaying branch, looked down and saw them. instantly the scolding and squeaking ceased, and off tore the long-tailed mite as though sheeta, the panther, had been endowed with wings and was in close pursuit of him. to all appearances he was only a very much frightened little monkey, fleeing for his life--there seemed nothing sinister about him. and what of teeka during all this time? was she at last resigned to her fate and accompanying her new mate in the proper humility of a loving and tractable spouse? a single glance at the pair would have answered these questions to the utter satisfaction of the most captious. she was torn and bleeding from many wounds, inflicted by the sullen toog in his vain efforts to subdue her to his will, and toog too was disfigured and mutilated; but with stubborn ferocity, he still clung to his now useless prize. on through the jungle he forced his way in the direction of the stamping ground of his tribe. he hoped that his king would have forgotten his treason; but if not he was still resigned to his fate--any fate would be better than suffering longer the sole companionship of this frightful she, and then, too, he wished to exhibit his captive to his fellows. maybe he could wish her on the king--it is possible that such a thought urged him on. at last they came upon two bulls feeding in a parklike grove--a beautiful grove dotted with huge boulders half embedded in the rich loam--mute monuments, possibly, to a forgotten age when mighty glaciers rolled their slow course where now a torrid sun beats down upon a tropic jungle. the two bulls looked up, baring long fighting fangs, as toog appeared in the distance. the latter recognized the two as friends. "it is toog," he growled. "toog has come back with a new she." the apes waited his nearer approach. teeka turned a snarling, fanged face toward them. she was not pretty to look upon, yet through the blood and hatred upon her countenance they realized that she was beautiful, and they envied toog--alas! they did not know teeka. as they squatted looking at one another there raced through the trees toward them a long-tailed little monkey with gray whiskers. he was a very excited little monkey when he came to a halt upon the limb of a tree directly overhead. "two strange bulls come," he cried. "one is a mangani, the other a hideous ape without hair upon his body. they follow the spoor of toog. i saw them." the four apes turned their eyes backward along the trail toog had just come; then they looked at one another for a minute. "come," said the larger of toog's two friends, "we will wait for the strangers in the thick bushes beyond the clearing." he turned and waddled away across the open place, the others following him. the little monkey danced about, all excitement. his chief diversion in life was to bring about bloody encounters between the larger denizens of the forest, that he might sit in the safety of the trees and witness the spectacles. he was a glutton for gore, was this little, whiskered, gray monkey, so long as it was the gore of others--a typical fight fan was the graybeard. the apes hid themselves in the shrubbery beside the trail along which the two stranger bulls would pass. teeka trembled with excitement. she had heard the words of manu, and she knew that the hairless ape must be tarzan, while the other was, doubtless, taug. never, in her wildest hopes, had she expected succor of this sort. her one thought had been to escape and find her way back to the tribe of kerchak; but even this had appeared to her practically impossible, so closely did toog watch her. as taug and tarzan reached the grove where toog had come upon his friends, the ape scent became so strong that both knew the quarry was but a short distance ahead. and so they went even more cautiously, for they wished to come upon the thief from behind if they could and charge him before he was aware of their presence. that a little gray-whiskered monkey had forestalled them they did not know, nor that three pairs of savage eyes were already watching their every move and waiting for them to come within reach of itching paws and slavering jowls. on they came across the grove, and as they entered the path leading into the dense jungle beyond, a sudden "kreeg-ah!" shrilled out close before them--a "kreeg-ah" in the familiar voice of teeka. the small brains of toog and his companions had not been able to foresee that teeka might betray them, and now that she had, they went wild with rage. toog struck the she a mighty blow that felled her, and then the three rushed forth to do battle with tarzan and taug. the little monkey danced upon his perch and screamed with delight. and indeed he might well be delighted, for it was a lovely fight. there were no preliminaries, no formalities, no introductions--the five bulls merely charged and clinched. they rolled in the narrow trail and into the thick verdure beside it. they bit and clawed and scratched and struck, and all the while they kept up the most frightful chorus of growlings and barkings and roarings. in five minutes they were torn and bleeding, and the little graybeard leaped high, shrilling his primitive bravos; but always his attitude was "thumbs down." he wanted to see something killed. he did not care whether it were friend or foe. it was blood he wanted--blood and death. taug had been set upon by toog and another of the apes, while tarzan had the third--a huge brute with the strength of a buffalo. never before had tarzan's assailant beheld so strange a creature as this slippery, hairless bull with which he battled. sweat and blood covered tarzan's sleek, brown hide. again and again he slipped from the clutches of the great bull, and all the while he struggled to free his hunting knife from the scabbard in which it had stuck. at length he succeeded--a brown hand shot out and clutched a hairy throat, another flew upward clutching the sharp blade. three swift, powerful strokes and the bull relaxed with a groan, falling limp beneath his antagonist. instantly tarzan broke from the clutches of the dying bull and sprang to taug's assistance. toog saw him coming and wheeled to meet him. in the impact of the charge, tarzan's knife was wrenched from his hand and then toog closed with him. now was the battle even--two against two--while on the verge, teeka, now recovered from the blow that had felled her, slunk waiting for an opportunity to aid. she saw tarzan's knife and picked it up. she never had used it, but knew how tarzan used it. always had she been afraid of the thing which dealt death to the mightiest of the jungle people with the ease that tantor's great tusks deal death to tantor's enemies. she saw tarzan's pocket pouch torn from his side, and with the curiosity of an ape, that even danger and excitement cannot entirely dispel, she picked this up, too. now the bulls were standing--the clinches had been broken. blood streamed down their sides--their faces were crimsoned with it. little graybeard was so fascinated that at last he had even forgotten to scream and dance; but sat rigid with delight in the enjoyment of the spectacle. back across the grove tarzan and taug forced their adversaries. teeka followed slowly. she scarce knew what to do. she was lame and sore and exhausted from the frightful ordeal through which she had passed, and she had the confidence of her sex in the prowess of her mate and the other bull of her tribe--they would not need the help of a she in their battle with these two strangers. the roars and screams of the fighters reverberated through the jungle, awakening the echoes in the distant hills. from the throat of tarzan's antagonist had come a score of "kreeg-ahs!" and now from behind came the reply he had awaited. into the grove, barking and growling, came a score of huge bull apes--the fighting men of toog's tribe. teeka saw them first and screamed a warning to tarzan and taug. then she fled past the fighters toward the opposite side of the clearing, fear for a moment claiming her. nor can one censure her after the frightful ordeal from which she was still suffering. down upon them came the great apes. in a moment tarzan and taug would be torn to shreds that would later form the piece de resistance of the savage orgy of a dum-dum. teeka turned to glance back. she saw the impending fate of her defenders and there sprung to life in her savage bosom the spark of martyrdom, that some common forbear had transmitted alike to teeka, the wild ape, and the glorious women of a higher order who have invited death for their men. with a shrill scream she ran toward the battlers who were rolling in a great mass at the foot of one of the huge boulders which dotted the grove; but what could she do? the knife she held she could not use to advantage because of her lesser strength. she had seen tarzan throw missiles, and she had learned this with many other things from her childhood playmate. she sought for something to throw and at last her fingers touched upon the hard objects in the pouch that had been torn from the ape-man. tearing the receptacle open, she gathered a handful of shiny cylinders--heavy for their size, they seemed to her, and good missiles. with all her strength she hurled them at the apes battling in front of the granite boulder. the result surprised teeka quite as much as it did the apes. there was a loud explosion, which deafened the fighters, and a puff of acrid smoke. never before had one there heard such a frightful noise. screaming with terror, the stranger bulls leaped to their feet and fled back toward the stamping ground of their tribe, while taug and tarzan slowly gathered themselves together and arose, lame and bleeding, to their feet. they, too, would have fled had they not seen teeka standing there before them, the knife and the pocket pouch in her hands. "what was it?" asked tarzan. teeka shook her head. "i hurled these at the stranger bulls," and she held forth another handful of the shiny metal cylinders with the dull gray, cone-shaped ends. tarzan looked at them and scratched his head. "what are they?" asked taug. "i do not know," said tarzan. "i found them." the little monkey with the gray beard halted among the trees a mile away and huddled, terrified, against a branch. he did not know that the dead father of tarzan of the apes, reaching back out of the past across a span of twenty years, had saved his son's life. nor did tarzan, lord greystoke, know it either. 11 a jungle joke time seldom hung heavily upon tarzan's hands. even where there is sameness there cannot be monotony if most of the sameness consists in dodging death first in one form and then in another; or in inflicting death upon others. there is a spice to such an existence; but even this tarzan of the apes varied in activities of his own invention. he was full grown now, with the grace of a greek god and the thews of a bull, and, by all the tenets of apedom, should have been sullen, morose, and brooding; but he was not. his spirits seemed not to age at all--he was still a playful child, much to the discomfiture of his fellow-apes. they could not understand him or his ways, for with maturity they quickly forgot their youth and its pastimes. nor could tarzan quite understand them. it seemed strange to him that a few moons since, he had roped taug about an ankle and dragged him screaming through the tall jungle grasses, and then rolled and tumbled in good-natured mimic battle when the young ape had freed himself, and that today when he had come up behind the same taug and pulled him over backward upon the turf, instead of the playful young ape, a great, snarling beast had whirled and leaped for his throat. easily tarzan eluded the charge and quickly taug's anger vanished, though it was not replaced with playfulness; yet the ape-man realized that taug was not amused nor was he amusing. the big bull ape seemed to have lost whatever sense of humor he once may have possessed. with a grunt of disappointment, young lord greystoke turned to other fields of endeavor. a strand of black hair fell across one eye. he brushed it aside with the palm of a hand and a toss of his head. it suggested something to do, so he sought his quiver which lay cached in the hollow bole of a lightning-riven tree. removing the arrows he turned the quiver upside down, emptying upon the ground the contents of its bottom--his few treasures. among them was a flat bit of stone and a shell which he had picked up from the beach near his father's cabin. with great care he rubbed the edge of the shell back and forth upon the flat stone until the soft edge was quite fine and sharp. he worked much as a barber does who hones a razor, and with every evidence of similar practice; but his proficiency was the result of years of painstaking effort. unaided he had worked out a method of his own for putting an edge upon the shell--he even tested it with the ball of his thumb--and when it met with his approval he grasped a wisp of hair which fell across his eyes, grasped it between the thumb and first finger of his left hand and sawed upon it with the sharpened shell until it was severed. all around his head he went until his black shock was rudely bobbed with a ragged bang in front. for the appearance of it he cared nothing; but in the matter of safety and comfort it meant everything. a lock of hair falling in one's eyes at the wrong moment might mean all the difference between life and death, while straggly strands, hanging down one's back were most uncomfortable, especially when wet with dew or rain or perspiration. as tarzan labored at his tonsorial task, his active mind was busy with many things. he recalled his recent battle with bolgani, the gorilla, the wounds of which were but just healed. he pondered the strange sleep adventures of his first dreams, and he smiled at the painful outcome of his last practical joke upon the tribe, when, dressed in the hide of numa, the lion, he had come roaring upon them, only to be leaped upon and almost killed by the great bulls whom he had taught how to defend themselves from an attack of their ancient enemy. his hair lopped off to his entire satisfaction, and seeing no possibility of pleasure in the company of the tribe, tarzan swung leisurely into the trees and set off in the direction of his cabin; but when part way there his attention was attracted by a strong scent spoor coming from the north. it was the scent of the gomangani. curiosity, that best-developed, common heritage of man and ape, always prompted tarzan to investigate where the gomangani were concerned. there was that about them which aroused his imagination. possibly it was because of the diversity of their activities and interests. the apes lived to eat and sleep and propagate. the same was true of all the other denizens of the jungle, save the gomangani. these black fellows danced and sang, scratched around in the earth from which they had cleared the trees and underbrush; they watched things grow, and when they had ripened, they cut them down and put them in straw-thatched huts. they made bows and spears and arrows, poison, cooking pots, things of metal to wear around their arms and legs. if it hadn't been for their black faces, their hideously disfigured features, and the fact that one of them had slain kala, tarzan might have wished to be one of them. at least he sometimes thought so, but always at the thought there rose within him a strange revulsion of feeling, which he could not interpret or understand--he simply knew that he hated the gomangani, and that he would rather be histah, the snake, than one of these. but their ways were interesting, and tarzan never tired of spying upon them, and from them he learned much more than he realized, though always his principal thought was of some new way in which he could render their lives miserable. the baiting of the blacks was tarzan's chief divertissement. tarzan realized now that the blacks were very near and that there were many of them, so he went silently and with great caution. noiselessly he moved through the lush grasses of the open spaces, and where the forest was dense, swung from one swaying branch to another, or leaped lightly over tangled masses of fallen trees where there was no way through the lower terraces, and the ground was choked and impassable. and so presently he came within sight of the black warriors of mbonga, the chief. they were engaged in a pursuit with which tarzan was more or less familiar, having watched them at it upon other occasions. they were placing and baiting a trap for numa, the lion. in a cage upon wheels they were tying a kid, so fastening it that when numa seized the unfortunate creature, the door of the cage would drop behind him, making him a prisoner. these things the blacks had learned in their old home, before they escaped through the untracked jungle to their new village. formerly they had dwelt in the belgian congo until the cruelties of their heartless oppressors had driven them to seek the safety of unexplored solitudes beyond the boundaries of leopold's domain. in their old life they often had trapped animals for the agents of european dealers, and had learned from them certain tricks, such as this one, which permitted them to capture even numa without injuring him, and to transport him in safety and with comparative ease to their village. no longer was there a white market for their savage wares; but there was still a sufficient incentive for the taking of numa--alive. first was the necessity for ridding the jungle of man-eaters, and it was only after depredations by these grim and terrible scourges that a lion hunt was organized. secondarily was the excuse for an orgy of celebration was the hunt successful, and the fact that such fetes were rendered doubly pleasurable by the presence of a live creature that might be put to death by torture. tarzan had witnessed these cruel rites in the past. being himself more savage than the savage warriors of the gomangani, he was not so shocked by the cruelty of them as he should have been, yet they did shock him. he could not understand the strange feeling of revulsion which possessed him at such times. he had no love for numa, the lion, yet he bristled with rage when the blacks inflicted upon his enemy such indignities and cruelties as only the mind of the one creature molded in the image of god can conceive. upon two occasions he had freed numa from the trap before the blacks had returned to discover the success or failure of their venture. he would do the same today--that he decided immediately he realized the nature of their intentions. leaving the trap in the center of a broad elephant trail near the drinking hole, the warriors turned back toward their village. on the morrow they would come again. tarzan looked after them, upon his lips an unconscious sneer--the heritage of unguessed caste. he saw them file along the broad trail, beneath the overhanging verdure of leafy branch and looped and festooned creepers, brushing ebon shoulders against gorgeous blooms which inscrutable nature has seen fit to lavish most profusely farthest from the eye of man. as tarzan watched, through narrowed lids, the last of the warriors disappear beyond a turn in the trail, his expression altered to the urge of a newborn thought. a slow, grim smile touched his lips. he looked down upon the frightened, bleating kid, advertising, in its fear and its innocence, its presence and its helplessness. dropping to the ground, tarzan approached the trap and entered. without disturbing the fiber cord, which was adjusted to drop the door at the proper time, he loosened the living bait, tucked it under an arm and stepped out of the cage. with his hunting knife he quieted the frightened animal, severing its jugular; then he dragged it, bleeding, along the trail down to the drinking hole, the half smile persisting upon his ordinarily grave face. at the water's edge the ape-man stooped and with hunting knife and quick strong fingers deftly removed the dead kid's viscera. scraping a hole in the mud, he buried these parts which he did not eat, and swinging the body to his shoulder took to the trees. for a short distance he pursued his way in the wake of the black warriors, coming down presently to bury the meat of his kill where it would be safe from the depredations of dango, the hyena, or the other meat-eating beasts and birds of the jungle. he was hungry. had he been all beast he would have eaten; but his man-mind could entertain urges even more potent than those of the belly, and now he was concerned with an idea which kept a smile upon his lips and his eyes sparkling in anticipation. an idea, it was, which permitted him to forget that he was hungry. the meat safely cached, tarzan trotted along the elephant trail after the gomangani. two or three miles from the cage he overtook them and then he swung into the trees and followed above and behind them--waiting his chance. among the blacks was rabba kega, the witch-doctor. tarzan hated them all; but rabba kega he especially hated. as the blacks filed along the winding path, rabba kega, being lazy, dropped behind. this tarzan noted, and it filled him with satisfaction--his being radiated a grim and terrible content. like an angel of death he hovered above the unsuspecting black. rabba kega, knowing that the village was but a short distance ahead, sat down to rest. rest well, o rabba kega! it is thy last opportunity. tarzan crept stealthily among the branches of the tree above the well-fed, self-satisfied witch-doctor. he made no noise that the dull ears of man could hear above the soughing of the gentle jungle breeze among the undulating foliage of the upper terraces, and when he came close above the black man he halted, well concealed by leafy branch and heavy creeper. rabba kega sat with his back against the bole of a tree, facing tarzan. the position was not such as the waiting beast of prey desired, and so, with the infinite patience of the wild hunter, the ape-man crouched motionless and silent as a graven image until the fruit should be ripe for the plucking. a poisonous insect buzzed angrily out of space. it loitered, circling, close to tarzan's face. the ape-man saw and recognized it. the virus of its sting spelled death for lesser things than he--for him it would mean days of anguish. he did not move. his glittering eyes remained fixed upon rabba kega after acknowledging the presence of the winged torture by a single glance. he heard and followed the movements of the insect with his keen ears, and then he felt it alight upon his forehead. no muscle twitched, for the muscles of such as he are the servants of the brain. down across his face crept the horrid thing--over nose and lips and chin. upon his throat it paused, and turning, retraced its steps. tarzan watched rabba kega. now not even his eyes moved. so motionless he crouched that only death might counterpart his movelessness. the insect crawled upward over the nut-brown cheek and stopped with its antennae brushing the lashes of his lower lid. you or i would have started back, closing our eyes and striking at the thing; but you and i are the slaves, not the masters of our nerves. had the thing crawled upon the eyeball of the ape-man, it is believable that he could yet have remained wide-eyed and rigid; but it did not. for a moment it loitered there close to the lower lid, then it rose and buzzed away. down toward rabba kega it buzzed and the black man heard it, saw it, struck at it, and was stung upon the cheek before he killed it. then he rose with a howl of pain and anger, and as he turned up the trail toward the village of mbonga, the chief, his broad, black back was exposed to the silent thing waiting above him. and as rabba kega turned, a lithe figure shot outward and downward from the tree above upon his broad shoulders. the impact of the springing creature carried rabba kega to the ground. he felt strong jaws close upon his neck, and when he tried to scream, steel fingers throttled his throat. the powerful black warrior struggled to free himself; but he was as a child in the grip of his adversary. presently tarzan released his grip upon the other's throat; but each time that rabba kega essayed a scream, the cruel fingers choked him painfully. at last the warrior desisted. then tarzan half rose and kneeled upon his victim's back, and when rabba kega struggled to arise, the ape-man pushed his face down into the dirt of the trail. with a bit of the rope that had secured the kid, tarzan made rabba kega's wrists secure behind his back, then he rose and jerked his prisoner to his feet, faced him back along the trail and pushed him on ahead. not until he came to his feet did rabba kega obtain a square look at his assailant. when he saw that it was the white devil-god his heart sank within him and his knees trembled; but as he walked along the trail ahead of his captor and was neither injured nor molested his spirits slowly rose, so that he took heart again. possibly the devil-god did not intend to kill him after all. had he not had little tibo in his power for days without harming him, and had he not spared momaya, tibo's mother, when he easily might have slain her? and then they came upon the cage which rabba kega, with the other black warriors of the village of mbonga, the chief, had placed and baited for numa. rabba kega saw that the bait was gone, though there was no lion within the cage, nor was the door dropped. he saw and he was filled with wonder not unmixed with apprehension. it entered his dull brain that in some way this combination of circumstances had a connection with his presence there as the prisoner of the white devil-god. nor was he wrong. tarzan pushed him roughly into the cage, and in another moment rabba kega understood. cold sweat broke from every pore of his body--he trembled as with ague--for the ape-man was binding him securely in the very spot the kid had previously occupied. the witch-doctor pleaded, first for his life, and then for a death less cruel; but he might as well have saved his pleas for numa, since already they were directed toward a wild beast who understood no word of what he said. but his constant jabbering not only annoyed tarzan, who worked in silence, but suggested that later the black might raise his voice in cries for succor, so he stepped out of the cage, gathered a handful of grass and a small stick and returning, jammed the grass into rabba kega's mouth, laid the stick crosswise between his teeth and fastened it there with the thong from rabba kega's loin cloth. now could the witch-doctor but roll his eyes and sweat. thus tarzan left him. the ape-man went first to the spot where he had cached the body of the kid. digging it up, he ascended into a tree and proceeded to satisfy his hunger. what remained he again buried; then he swung away through the trees to the water hole, and going to the spot where fresh, cold water bubbled from between two rocks, he drank deeply. the other beasts might wade in and drink stagnant water; but not tarzan of the apes. in such matters he was fastidious. from his hands he washed every trace of the repugnant scent of the gomangani, and from his face the blood of the kid. rising, he stretched himself not unlike some huge, lazy cat, climbed into a near-by tree and fell asleep. when he awoke it was dark, though a faint luminosity still tinged the western heavens. a lion moaned and coughed as it strode through the jungle toward water. it was approaching the drinking hole. tarzan grinned sleepily, changed his position and fell asleep again. when the blacks of mbonga, the chief, reached their village they discovered that rabba kega was not among them. when several hours had elapsed they decided that something had happened to him, and it was the hope of the majority of the tribe that whatever had happened to him might prove fatal. they did not love the witch-doctor. love and fear seldom are playmates; but a warrior is a warrior, and so mbonga organized a searching party. that his own grief was not unassuagable might have been gathered from the fact that he remained at home and went to sleep. the young warriors whom he sent out remained steadfast to their purpose for fully half an hour, when, unfortunately for rabba kega--upon so slight a thing may the fate of a man rest--a honey bird attracted the attention of the searchers and led them off for the delicious store it previously had marked down for betrayal, and rabba kega's doom was sealed. when the searchers returned empty handed, mbonga was wroth; but when he saw the great store of honey they brought with them his rage subsided. already tubuto, young, agile and evil-minded, with face hideously painted, was practicing the black art upon a sick infant in the fond hope of succeeding to the office and perquisites of rabba kega. tonight the women of the old witch-doctor would moan and howl. tomorrow he would be forgotten. such is life, such is fame, such is power--in the center of the world's highest civilization, or in the depths of the black, primeval jungle. always, everywhere, man is man, nor has he altered greatly beneath his veneer since he scurried into a hole between two rocks to escape the tyrannosaurus six million years ago. the morning following the disappearance of rabba kega, the warriors set out with mbonga, the chief, to examine the trap they had set for numa. long before they reached the cage, they heard the roaring of a great lion and guessed that they had made a successful bag, so it was with shouts of joy that they approached the spot where they should find their captive. yes! there he was, a great, magnificent specimen--a huge, black-maned lion. the warriors were frantic with delight. they leaped into the air and uttered savage cries--hoarse victory cries, and then they came closer, and the cries died upon their lips, and their eyes went wide so that the whites showed all around their irises, and their pendulous lower lips drooped with their drooping jaws. they drew back in terror at the sight within the cage--the mauled and mutilated corpse of what had, yesterday, been rabba kega, the witch-doctor. the captured lion had been too angry and frightened to feed upon the body of his kill; but he had vented upon it much of his rage, until it was a frightful thing to behold. from his perch in a near-by tree tarzan of the apes, lord greystoke, looked down upon the black warriors and grinned. once again his self-pride in his ability as a practical joker asserted itself. it had lain dormant for some time following the painful mauling he had received that time he leaped among the apes of kerchak clothed in the skin of numa; but this joke was a decided success. after a few moments of terror, the blacks came closer to the cage, rage taking the place of fear--rage and curiosity. how had rabba kega happened to be in the cage? where was the kid? there was no sign nor remnant of the original bait. they looked closely and they saw, to their horror, that the corpse of their erstwhile fellow was bound with the very cord with which they had secured the kid. who could have done this thing? they looked at one another. tubuto was the first to speak. he had come hopefully out with the expedition that morning. somewhere he might find evidence of the death of rabba kega. now he had found it, and he was the first to find an explanation. "the white devil-god," he whispered. "it is the work of the white devil-god!" no one contradicted tubuto, for, indeed, who else could it have been but the great, hairless ape they all so feared? and so their hatred of tarzan increased again with an increased fear of him. and tarzan sat in his tree and hugged himself. no one there felt sorrow because of the death of rabba kega; but each of the blacks experienced a personal fear of the ingenious mind which might discover for any of them a death equally horrible to that which the witch-doctor had suffered. it was a subdued and thoughtful company which dragged the captive lion along the broad elephant path back to the village of mbonga, the chief. and it was with a sigh of relief that they finally rolled it into the village and closed the gates behind them. each had experienced the sensation of being spied upon from the moment they left the spot where the trap had been set, though none had seen or heard aught to give tangible food to his fears. at the sight of the body within the cage with the lion, the women and children of the village set up a most frightful lamentation, working themselves into a joyous hysteria which far transcended the happy misery derived by their more civilized prototypes who make a business of dividing their time between the movies and the neighborhood funerals of friends and strangers--especially strangers. from a tree overhanging the palisade, tarzan watched all that passed within the village. he saw the frenzied women tantalizing the great lion with sticks and stones. the cruelty of the blacks toward a captive always induced in tarzan a feeling of angry contempt for the gomangani. had he attempted to analyze this feeling he would have found it difficult, for during all his life he had been accustomed to sights of suffering and cruelty. he, himself, was cruel. all the beasts of the jungle were cruel; but the cruelty of the blacks was of a different order. it was the cruelty of wanton torture of the helpless, while the cruelty of tarzan and the other beasts was the cruelty of necessity or of passion. perhaps, had he known it, he might have credited this feeling of repugnance at the sight of unnecessary suffering to heredity--to the germ of british love of fair play which had been bequeathed to him by his father and his mother; but, of course, he did not know, since he still believed that his mother had been kala, the great ape. and just in proportion as his anger rose against the gomangani his savage sympathy went out to numa, the lion, for, though numa was his lifetime enemy, there was neither bitterness nor contempt in tarzan's sentiments toward him. in the ape-man's mind, therefore, the determination formed to thwart the blacks and liberate the lion; but he must accomplish this in some way which would cause the gomangani the greatest chagrin and discomfiture. as he squatted there watching the proceeding beneath him, he saw the warriors seize upon the cage once more and drag it between two huts. tarzan knew that it would remain there now until evening, and that the blacks were planning a feast and orgy in celebration of their capture. when he saw that two warriors were placed beside the cage, and that these drove off the women and children and young men who would have eventually tortured numa to death, he knew that the lion would be safe until he was needed for the evening's entertainment, when he would be more cruelly and scientifically tortured for the edification of the entire tribe. now tarzan preferred to bait the blacks in as theatric a manner as his fertile imagination could evolve. he had some half-formed conception of their superstitious fears and of their especial dread of night, and so he decided to wait until darkness fell and the blacks partially worked to hysteria by their dancing and religious rites before he took any steps toward the freeing of numa. in the meantime, he hoped, an idea adequate to the possibilities of the various factors at hand would occur to him. nor was it long before one did. he had swung off through the jungle to search for food when the plan came to him. at first it made him smile a little and then look dubious, for he still retained a vivid memory of the dire results that had followed the carrying out of a very wonderful idea along almost identical lines, yet he did not abandon his intention, and a moment later, food temporarily forgotten, he was swinging through the middle terraces in rapid flight toward the stamping ground of the tribe of kerchak, the great ape. as was his wont, he alighted in the midst of the little band without announcing his approach save by a hideous scream just as he sprang from a branch above them. fortunate are the apes of kerchak that their kind is not subject to heart failure, for the methods of tarzan subjected them to one severe shock after another, nor could they ever accustom themselves to the ape-man's peculiar style of humor. now, when they saw who it was they merely snarled and grumbled angrily for a moment and then resumed their feeding or their napping which he had interrupted, and he, having had his little joke, made his way to the hollow tree where he kept his treasures hid from the inquisitive eyes and fingers of his fellows and the mischievous little manus. here he withdrew a closely rolled hide--the hide of numa with the head on; a clever bit of primitive curing and mounting, which had once been the property of the witch-doctor, rabba kega, until tarzan had stolen it from the village. with this he made his way back through the jungle toward the village of the blacks, stopping to hunt and feed upon the way, and, in the afternoon, even napping for an hour, so that it was already dusk when he entered the great tree which overhung the palisade and gave him a view of the entire village. he saw that numa was still alive and that the guards were even dozing beside the cage. a lion is no great novelty to a black man in the lion country, and the first keen edge of their desire to worry the brute having worn off, the villagers paid little or no attention to the great cat, preferring now to await the grand event of the night. nor was it long after dark before the festivities commenced. to the beating of tom-toms, a lone warrior, crouched half doubled, leaped into the firelight in the center of a great circle of other warriors, behind whom stood or squatted the women and the children. the dancer was painted and armed for the hunt and his movements and gestures suggested the search for the spoor of game. bending low, sometimes resting for a moment on one knee, he searched the ground for signs of the quarry; again he poised, statuesque, listening. the warrior was young and lithe and graceful; he was full-muscled and arrow-straight. the firelight glistened upon his ebon body and brought out into bold relief the grotesque designs painted upon his face, breasts, and abdomen. presently he bent low to the earth, then leaped high in air. every line of face and body showed that he had struck the scent. immediately he leaped toward the circle of warriors about him, telling them of his find and summoning them to the hunt. it was all in pantomime; but so truly done that even tarzan could follow it all to the least detail. he saw the other warriors grasp their hunting spears and leap to their feet to join in the graceful, stealthy "stalking dance." it was very interesting; but tarzan realized that if he was to carry his design to a successful conclusion he must act quickly. he had seen these dances before and knew that after the stalk would come the game at bay and then the kill, during which numa would be surrounded by warriors, and unapproachable. with the lion's skin under one arm the ape-man dropped to the ground in the dense shadows beneath the tree and then circled behind the huts until he came out directly in the rear of the cage, in which numa paced nervously to and fro. the cage was now unguarded, the two warriors having left it to take their places among the other dancers. behind the cage tarzan adjusted the lion's skin about him, just as he had upon that memorable occasion when the apes of kerchak, failing to pierce his disguise, had all but slain him. then, on hands and knees, he crept forward, emerged from between the two huts and stood a few paces back of the dusky audience, whose whole attention was centered upon the dancers before them. tarzan saw that the blacks had now worked themselves to a proper pitch of nervous excitement to be ripe for the lion. in a moment the ring of spectators would break at a point nearest the caged lion and the victim would be rolled into the center of the circle. it was for this moment that tarzan waited. at last it came. a signal was given by mbonga, the chief, at which the women and children immediately in front of tarzan rose and moved to one side, leaving a broad path opening toward the caged lion. at the same instant tarzan gave voice to the low, coughing roar of an angry lion and slunk slowly forward through the open lane toward the frenzied dancers. a woman saw him first and screamed. instantly there was a panic in the immediate vicinity of the ape-man. the strong light from the fire fell full upon the lion head and the blacks leaped to the conclusion, as tarzan had known they would, that their captive had escaped his cage. with another roar, tarzan moved forward. the dancing warriors paused but an instant. they had been hunting a lion securely housed within a strong cage, and now that he was at liberty among them, an entirely different aspect was placed upon the matter. their nerves were not attuned to this emergency. the women and children already had fled to the questionable safety of the nearest huts, and the warriors were not long in following their example, so that presently tarzan was left in sole possession of the village street. but not for long. nor did he wish to be left thus long alone. it would not comport with his scheme. presently a head peered forth from a near-by hut, and then another and another until a score or more of warriors were looking out upon him, waiting for his next move--waiting for the lion to charge or to attempt to escape from the village. their spears were ready in their hands against either a charge or a bolt for freedom, and then the lion rose erect upon its hind legs, the tawny skin dropped from it and there stood revealed before them in the firelight the straight young figure of the white devil-god. for an instant the blacks were too astonished to act. they feared this apparition fully as much as they did numa, yet they would gladly have slain the thing could they quickly enough have gathered together their wits; but fear and superstition and a natural mental density held them paralyzed while the ape-man stooped and gathered up the lion skin. they saw him turn then and walk back into the shadows at the far end of the village. not until then did they gain courage to pursue him, and when they had come in force, with brandished spears and loud war cries, the quarry was gone. not an instant did tarzan pause in the tree. throwing the skin over a branch he leaped again into the village upon the opposite side of the great bole, and diving into the shadow of a hut, ran quickly to where lay the caged lion. springing to the top of the cage he pulled upon the cord which raised the door, and a moment later a great lion in the prime of his strength and vigor leaped out into the village. the warriors, returning from a futile search for tarzan, saw him step into the firelight. ah! there was the devil-god again, up to his old trick. did he think he could twice fool the men of mbonga, the chief, the same way in so short a time? they would show him! for long they had waited for such an opportunity to rid themselves forever of this fearsome jungle demon. as one they rushed forward with raised spears. the women and the children came from the huts to witness the slaying of the devil-god. the lion turned blazing eyes upon them and then swung about toward the advancing warriors. with shouts of savage joy and triumph they came toward him, menacing him with their spears. the devil-god was theirs! and then, with a frightful roar, numa, the lion, charged. the men of mbonga, the chief, met numa with ready spears and screams of raillery. in a solid mass of muscled ebony they waited the coming of the devil-god; yet beneath their brave exteriors lurked a haunting fear that all might not be quite well with them--that this strange creature could yet prove invulnerable to their weapons and inflict upon them full punishment for their effrontery. the charging lion was all too lifelike--they saw that in the brief instant of the charge; but beneath the tawny hide they knew was hid the soft flesh of the white man, and how could that withstand the assault of many war spears? in their forefront stood a huge young warrior in the full arrogance of his might and his youth. afraid? not he! he laughed as numa bore down upon him; he laughed and couched his spear, setting the point for the broad breast. and then the lion was upon him. a great paw swept away the heavy war spear, splintering it as the hand of man might splinter a dry twig. down went the black, his skull crushed by another blow. and then the lion was in the midst of the warriors, clawing and tearing to right and left. not for long did they stand their ground; but a dozen men were mauled before the others made good their escape from those frightful talons and gleaming fangs. in terror the villagers fled hither and thither. no hut seemed a sufficiently secure asylum with numa ranging within the palisade. from one to another fled the frightened blacks, while in the center of the village numa stood glaring and growling above his kills. at last a tribesman flung wide the gates of the village and sought safety amid the branches of the forest trees beyond. like sheep his fellows followed him, until the lion and his dead remained alone in the village. from the nearer trees the men of mbonga saw the lion lower his great head and seize one of his victims by the shoulder and then with slow and stately tread move down the village street past the open gates and on into the jungle. they saw and shuddered, and from another tree tarzan of the apes saw and smiled. a full hour elapsed after the lion had disappeared with his feast before the blacks ventured down from the trees and returned to their village. wide eyes rolled from side to side, and naked flesh contracted more to the chill of fear than to the chill of the jungle night. "it was he all the time," murmured one. "it was the devil-god." "he changed himself from a lion to a man, and back again into a lion," whispered another. "and he dragged mweeza into the forest and is eating him," said a third, shuddering. "we are no longer safe here," wailed a fourth. "let us take our belongings and search for another village site far from the haunts of the wicked devil-god." but with morning came renewed courage, so that the experiences of the preceding evening had little other effect than to increase their fear of tarzan and strengthen their belief in his supernatural origin. and thus waxed the fame and the power of the ape-man in the mysterious haunts of the savage jungle where he ranged, mightiest of beasts because of the man-mind which directed his giant muscles and his flawless courage. 12 tarzan rescues the moon the moon shone down out of a cloudless sky--a huge, swollen moon that seemed so close to earth that one might wonder that she did not brush the crooning tree tops. it was night, and tarzan was abroad in the jungle--tarzan, the ape-man; mighty fighter, mighty hunter. why he swung through the dark shadows of the somber forest he could not have told you. it was not that he was hungry--he had fed well this day, and in a safe cache were the remains of his kill, ready against the coming of a new appetite. perhaps it was the very joy of living that urged him from his arboreal couch to pit his muscles and his senses against the jungle night, and then, too, tarzan always was goaded by an intense desire to know. the jungle which is presided over by kudu, the sun, is a very different jungle from that of goro, the moon. the diurnal jungle has its own aspect--its own lights and shades, its own birds, its own blooms, its own beasts; its noises are the noises of the day. the lights and shades of the nocturnal jungle are as different as one might imagine the lights and shades of another world to differ from those of our world; its beasts, its blooms, and its birds are not those of the jungle of kudu, the sun. because of these differences tarzan loved to investigate the jungle by night. not only was the life another life; but it was richer in numbers and in romance; it was richer in dangers, too, and to tarzan of the apes danger was the spice of life. and the noises of the jungle night--the roar of the lion, the scream of the leopard, the hideous laughter of dango, the hyena, were music to the ears of the ape-man. the soft padding of unseen feet, the rustling of leaves and grasses to the passage of fierce beasts, the sheen of opalesque eyes flaming through the dark, the million sounds which proclaimed the teeming life that one might hear and scent, though seldom see, constituted the appeal of the nocturnal jungle to tarzan. tonight he had swung a wide circle--toward the east first and then toward the south, and now he was rounding back again into the north. his eyes, his ears and his keen nostrils were ever on the alert. mingled with the sounds he knew, there were strange sounds--weird sounds which he never heard until after kudu had sought his lair below the far edge of the big water--sounds which belonged to goro, the moon--and to the mysterious period of goro's supremacy. these sounds often caused tarzan profound speculation. they baffled him because he thought that he knew his jungle so well that there could be nothing within it unfamiliar to him. sometimes he thought that as colors and forms appeared to differ by night from their familiar daylight aspects, so sounds altered with the passage of kudu and the coming of goro, and these thoughts roused within his brain a vague conjecture that perhaps goro and kudu influenced these changes. and what more natural that eventually he came to attribute to the sun and the moon personalities as real as his own? the sun was a living creature and ruled the day. the moon, endowed with brains and miraculous powers, ruled the night. thus functioned the untrained man-mind groping through the dark night of ignorance for an explanation of the things he could not touch or smell or hear and of the great, unknown powers of nature which he could not see. as tarzan swung north again upon his wide circle the scent of the gomangani came to his nostrils, mixed with the acrid odor of wood smoke. the ape-man moved quickly in the direction from which the scent was borne down to him upon the gentle night wind. presently the ruddy sheen of a great fire filtered through the foliage to him ahead, and when tarzan came to a halt in the trees near it, he saw a party of half a dozen black warriors huddled close to the blaze. it was evidently a hunting party from the village of mbonga, the chief, caught out in the jungle after dark. in a rude circle about them they had constructed a thorn boma which, with the aid of the fire, they apparently hoped would discourage the advances of the larger carnivora. that hope was not conviction was evidenced by the very palpable terror in which they crouched, wide-eyed and trembling, for already numa and sabor were moaning through the jungle toward them. there were other creatures, too, in the shadows beyond the firelight. tarzan could see their yellow eyes flaming there. the blacks saw them and shivered. then one arose and grasping a burning branch from the fire hurled it at the eyes, which immediately disappeared. the black sat down again. tarzan watched and saw that it was several minutes before the eyes began to reappear in twos and fours. then came numa, the lion, and sabor, his mate. the other eyes scattered to right and left before the menacing growls of the great cats, and then the huge orbs of the man-eaters flamed alone out of the darkness. some of the blacks threw themselves upon their faces and moaned; but he who before had hurled the burning branch now hurled another straight at the faces of the hungry lions, and they, too, disappeared as had the lesser lights before them. tarzan was much interested. he saw a new reason for the nightly fires maintained by the blacks--a reason in addition to those connected with warmth and light and cooking. the beasts of the jungle feared fire, and so fire was, in a measure, a protection from them. tarzan himself knew a certain awe of fire. once he had, in investigating an abandoned fire in the village of the blacks, picked up a live coal. since then he had maintained a respectful distance from such fires as he had seen. one experience had sufficed. for a few minutes after the black hurled the firebrand no eyes appeared, though tarzan could hear the soft padding of feet all about him. then flashed once more the twin fire spots that marked the return of the lord of the jungle and a moment later, upon a slightly lower level, there appeared those of sabor, his mate. for some time they remained fixed and unwavering--a constellation of fierce stars in the jungle night--then the male lion advanced slowly toward the boma, where all but a single black still crouched in trembling terror. when this lone guardian saw that numa was again approaching, he threw another firebrand, and, as before, numa retreated and with him sabor, the lioness; but not so far, this time, nor for so long. almost instantly they turned and began circling the boma, their eyes turning constantly toward the firelight, while low, throaty growls evidenced their increasing displeasure. beyond the lions glowed the flaming eyes of the lesser satellites, until the black jungle was shot all around the black men's camp with little spots of fire. again and again the black warrior hurled his puny brands at the two big cats; but tarzan noticed that numa paid little or no attention to them after the first few retreats. the ape-man knew by numa's voice that the lion was hungry and surmised that he had made up his mind to feed upon a gomangani; but would he dare a closer approach to the dreaded flames? even as the thought was passing in tarzan's mind, numa stopped his restless pacing and faced the boma. for a moment he stood motionless, except for the quick, nervous upcurving of his tail, then he walked deliberately forward, while sabor moved restlessly to and fro where he had left her. the black man called to his comrades that the lion was coming, but they were too far gone in fear to do more than huddle closer together and moan more loudly than before. seizing a blazing branch the man cast it straight into the face of the lion. there was an angry roar, followed by a swift charge. with a single bound the savage beast cleared the boma wall as, with almost equal agility, the warrior cleared it upon the opposite side and, chancing the dangers lurking in the darkness, bolted for the nearest tree. numa was out of the boma almost as soon as he was inside it; but as he went back over the low thorn wall, he took a screaming negro with him. dragging his victim along the ground he walked back toward sabor, the lioness, who joined him, and the two continued into the blackness, their savage growls mingling with the piercing shrieks of the doomed and terrified man. at a little distance from the blaze the lions halted, there ensued a short succession of unusually vicious growls and roars, during which the cries and moans of the black man ceased--forever. presently numa reappeared in the firelight. he made a second trip into the boma and the former grisly tragedy was reenacted with another howling victim. tarzan rose and stretched lazily. the entertainment was beginning to bore him. he yawned and turned upon his way toward the clearing where the tribe would be sleeping in the encircling trees. yet even when he had found his familiar crotch and curled himself for slumber, he felt no desire to sleep. for a long time he lay awake thinking and dreaming. he looked up into the heavens and watched the moon and the stars. he wondered what they were and what power kept them from falling. his was an inquisitive mind. always he had been full of questions concerning all that passed around him; but there never had been one to answer his questions. in childhood he had wanted to know, and, denied almost all knowledge, he still, in manhood, was filled with the great, unsatisfied curiosity of a child. he was never quite content merely to perceive that things happened--he desired to know why they happened. he wanted to know what made things go. the secret of life interested him immensely. the miracle of death he could not quite fathom. upon innumerable occasions he had investigated the internal mechanism of his kills, and once or twice he had opened the chest cavity of victims in time to see the heart still pumping. he had learned from experience that a knife thrust through this organ brought immediate death nine times out of ten, while he might stab an antagonist innumerable times in other places without even disabling him. and so he had come to think of the heart, or, as he called it, "the red thing that breathes," as the seat and origin of life. the brain and its functionings he did not comprehend at all. that his sense perceptions were transmitted to his brain and there translated, classified, and labeled was something quite beyond him. he thought that his fingers knew when they touched something, that his eyes knew when they saw, his ears when they heard, his nose when it scented. he considered his throat, epidermis, and the hairs of his head as the three principal seats of emotion. when kala had been slain a peculiar choking sensation had possessed his throat; contact with histah, the snake, imparted an unpleasant sensation to the skin of his whole body; while the approach of an enemy made the hairs on his scalp stand erect. imagine, if you can, a child filled with the wonders of nature, bursting with queries and surrounded only by beasts of the jungle to whom his questionings were as strange as sanskrit would have been. if he asked gunto what made it rain, the big old ape would but gaze at him in dumb astonishment for an instant and then return to his interesting and edifying search for fleas; and when he questioned mumga, who was very old and should have been very wise, but wasn't, as to the reason for the closing of certain flowers after kudu had deserted the sky, and the opening of others during the night, he was surprised to discover that mumga had never noticed these interesting facts, though she could tell to an inch just where the fattest grubworm should be hiding. to tarzan these things were wonders. they appealed to his intellect and to his imagination. he saw the flowers close and open; he saw certain blooms which turned their faces always toward the sun; he saw leaves which moved when there was no breeze; he saw vines crawl like living things up the boles and over the branches of great trees; and to tarzan of the apes the flowers and the vines and the trees were living creatures. he often talked to them, as he talked to goro, the moon, and kudu, the sun, and always was he disappointed that they did not reply. he asked them questions; but they could not answer, though he knew that the whispering of the leaves was the language of the leaves--they talked with one another. the wind he attributed to the trees and grasses. he thought that they swayed themselves to and fro, creating the wind. in no other way could he account for this phenomenon. the rain he finally attributed to the stars, the moon, and the sun; but his hypothesis was entirely unlovely and unpoetical. tonight as tarzan lay thinking, there sprang to his fertile imagination an explanation of the stars and the moon. he became quite excited about it. taug was sleeping in a nearby crotch. tarzan swung over beside him. "taug!" he cried. instantly the great bull was awake and bristling, sensing danger from the nocturnal summons. "look, taug!" exclaimed tarzan, pointing toward the stars. "see the eyes of numa and sabor, of sheeta and dango. they wait around goro to leap in upon him for their kill. see the eyes and the nose and the mouth of goro. and the light that shines upon his face is the light of the great fire he has built to frighten away numa and sabor and dango and sheeta. "all about him are the eyes, taug, you can see them! but they do not come very close to the fire--there are few eyes close to goro. they fear the fire! it is the fire that saves goro from numa. do you see them, taug? some night numa will be very hungry and very angry--then he will leap over the thorn bushes which encircle goro and we will have no more light after kudu seeks his lair--the night will be black with the blackness that comes when goro is lazy and sleeps late into the night, or when he wanders through the skies by day, forgetting the jungle and its people." taug looked stupidly at the heavens and then at tarzan. a meteor fell, blazing a flaming way through the sky. "look!" cried tarzan. "goro has thrown a burning branch at numa." taug grumbled. "numa is down below," he said. "numa does not hunt above the trees." but he looked curiously and a little fearfully at the bright stars above him, as though he saw them for the first time, and doubtless it was the first time that taug ever had seen the stars, though they had been in the sky above him every night of his life. to taug they were as the gorgeous jungle blooms--he could not eat them and so he ignored them. taug fidgeted and was nervous. for a long time he lay sleepless, watching the stars--the flaming eyes of the beasts of prey surrounding goro, the moon--goro, by whose light the apes danced to the beating of their earthen drums. if goro should be eaten by numa there could be no more dum-dums. taug was overwhelmed by the thought. he glanced at tarzan half fearfully. why was his friend so different from the others of the tribe? no one else whom taug ever had known had had such queer thoughts as tarzan. the ape scratched his head and wondered, dimly, if tarzan was a safe companion, and then he recalled slowly, and by a laborious mental process, that tarzan had served him better than any other of the apes, even the strong and wise bulls of the tribe. tarzan it was who had freed him from the blacks at the very time that taug had thought tarzan wanted teeka. it was tarzan who had saved taug's little balu from death. it was tarzan who had conceived and carried out the plan to pursue teeka's abductor and rescue the stolen one. tarzan had fought and bled in taug's service so many times that taug, although only a brutal ape, had had impressed upon his mind a fierce loyalty which nothing now could swerve--his friendship for tarzan had become a habit, a tradition almost, which would endure while taug endured. he never showed any outward demonstration of affection--he growled at tarzan as he growled at the other bulls who came too close while he was feeding--but he would have died for tarzan. he knew it and tarzan knew it; but of such things apes do not speak--their vocabulary, for the finer instincts, consisting more of actions than words. but now taug was worried, and he fell asleep again still thinking of the strange words of his fellow. the following day he thought of them again, and without any intention of disloyalty he mentioned to gunto what tarzan had suggested about the eyes surrounding goro, and the possibility that sooner or later numa would charge the moon and devour him. to the apes all large things in nature are male, and so goro, being the largest creature in the heavens by night, was, to them, a bull. gunto bit a sliver from a horny finger and recalled the fact that tarzan had once said that the trees talked to one another, and gozan recounted having seen the ape-man dancing alone in the moonlight with sheeta, the panther. they did not know that tarzan had roped the savage beast and tied him to a tree before he came to earth and leaped about before the rearing cat, to tantalize him. others told of seeing tarzan ride upon the back of tantor, the elephant; of his bringing the black boy, tibo, to the tribe, and of mysterious things with which he communed in the strange lair by the sea. they had never understood his books, and after he had shown them to one or two of the tribe and discovered that even the pictures carried no impression to their brains, he had desisted. "tarzan is not an ape," said gunto. "he will bring numa to eat us, as he is bringing him to eat goro. we should kill him." immediately taug bristled. kill tarzan! "first you will kill taug," he said, and lumbered away to search for food. but others joined the plotters. they thought of many things which tarzan had done--things which apes did not do and could not understand. again gunto voiced the opinion that the tarmangani, the white ape, should be slain, and the others, filled with terror about the stories they had heard, and thinking tarzan was planning to slay goro, greeted the proposal with growls of accord. among them was teeka, listening with all her ears; but her voice was not raised in furtherance of the plan. instead she bristled, showing her fangs, and afterward she went away in search of tarzan; but she could not find him, as he was roaming far afield in search of meat. she found taug, though, and told him what the others were planning, and the great bull stamped upon the ground and roared. his bloodshot eyes blazed with wrath, his upper lip curled up to expose his fighting fangs, and the hair upon his spine stood erect, and then a rodent scurried across the open and taug sprang to seize it. in an instant he seemed to have forgotten his rage against the enemies of his friend; but such is the mind of an ape. several miles away tarzan of the apes lolled upon the broad head of tantor, the elephant. he scratched beneath the great ears with the point of a sharp stick, and he talked to the huge pachyderm of everything which filled his black-thatched head. little, or nothing, of what he said did tantor understand; but tantor is a good listener. swaying from side to side he stood there enjoying the companionship of his friend, the friend he loved, and absorbing the delicious sensations of the scratching. numa, the lion, caught the scent of man, and warily stalked it until he came within sight of his prey upon the head of the mighty tusker; then he turned, growling and muttering, away in search of more propitious hunting grounds. the elephant caught the scent of the lion, borne to him by an eddying breeze, and lifting his trunk trumpeted loudly. tarzan stretched back luxuriously, lying supine at full length along the rough hide. flies swarmed about his face; but with a leafy branch torn from a tree he lazily brushed them away. "tantor," he said, "it is good to be alive. it is good to lie in the cool shadows. it is good to look upon the green trees and the bright colors of the flowers--upon everything which bulamutumumo has put here for us. he is very good to us, tantor; he has given you tender leaves and bark, and rich grasses to eat; to me he has given bara and horta and pisah, the fruits and the nuts and the roots. he provides for each the food that each likes best. all that he asks is that we be strong enough or cunning enough to go forth and take it. yes, tantor, it is good to live. i should hate to die." tantor made a little sound in his throat and curled his trunk upward that he might caress the ape-man's cheek with the finger at its tip. "tantor," said tarzan presently, "turn and feed in the direction of the tribe of kerchak, the great ape, that tarzan may ride home upon your head without walking." the tusker turned and moved slowly off along a broad, tree-arched trail, pausing occasionally to pluck a tender branch, or strip the edible bark from an adjacent tree. tarzan sprawled face downward upon the beast's head and back, his legs hanging on either side, his head supported by his open palms, his elbows resting on the broad cranium. and thus they made their leisurely way toward the gathering place of the tribe. just before they arrived at the clearing from the north there reached it from the south another figure--that of a well-knit black warrior, who stepped cautiously through the jungle, every sense upon the alert against the many dangers which might lurk anywhere along the way. yet he passed beneath the southernmost sentry that was posted in a great tree commanding the trail from the south. the ape permitted the gomangani to pass unmolested, for he saw that he was alone; but the moment that the warrior had entered the clearing a loud "kreeg-ah!" rang out from behind him, immediately followed by a chorus of replies from different directions, as the great bulls crashed through the trees in answer to the summons of their fellow. the black man halted at the first cry and looked about him. he could see nothing, but he knew the voice of the hairy tree men whom he and his kind feared, not alone because of the strength and ferocity of the savage beings, but as well through a superstitious terror engendered by the manlike appearance of the apes. but bulabantu was no coward. he heard the apes all about him; he knew that escape was probably impossible, so he stood his ground, his spear ready in his hand and a war cry trembling on his lips. he would sell his life dearly, would bulabantu, under-chief of the village of mbonga, the chief. tarzan and tantor were but a short distance away when the first cry of the sentry rang out through the quiet jungle. like a flash the ape-man leaped from the elephant's back to a near-by tree and was swinging rapidly in the direction of the clearing before the echoes of the first "kreeg-ah" had died away. when he arrived he saw a dozen bulls circling a single gomangani. with a blood-curdling scream tarzan sprang to the attack. he hated the blacks even more than did the apes, and here was an opportunity for a kill in the open. what had the gomangani done? had he slain one of the tribe? tarzan asked the nearest ape. no, the gomangani had harmed none. gozan, being on watch, had seen him coming through the forest and had warned the tribe--that was all. the ape-man pushed through the circle of bulls, none of which as yet had worked himself into sufficient frenzy for a charge, and came where he had a full and close view of the black. he recognized the man instantly. only the night before he had seen him facing the eyes in the dark, while his fellows groveled in the dirt at his feet, too terrified even to defend themselves. here was a brave man, and tarzan had deep admiration for bravery. even his hatred of the blacks was not so strong a passion as his love of courage. he would have joyed in battling with a black warrior at almost any time; but this one he did not wish to kill--he felt, vaguely, that the man had earned his life by his brave defense of it on the preceding night, nor did he fancy the odds that were pitted against the lone warrior. he turned to the apes. "go back to your feeding," he said, "and let this gomangani go his way in peace. he has not harmed us, and last night i saw him fighting numa and sabor with fire, alone in the jungle. he is brave. why should we kill one who is brave and who has not attacked us? let him go." the apes growled. they were displeased. "kill the gomangani!" cried one. "yes," roared another, "kill the gomangani and the tarmangani as well." "kill the white ape!" screamed gozan, "he is no ape at all; but a gomangani with his skin off." "kill tarzan!" bellowed gunto. "kill! kill! kill!" the bulls were now indeed working themselves into the frenzy of slaughter; but against tarzan rather than the black man. a shaggy form charged through them, hurling those it came in contact with to one side as a strong man might scatter children. it was taug--great, savage taug. "who says 'kill tarzan'?" he demanded. "who kills tarzan must kill taug, too. who can kill taug? taug will tear your insides from you and feed them to dango." "we can kill you all," replied gunto. "there are many of us and few of you," and he was right. tarzan knew that he was right. taug knew it; but neither would admit such a possibility. it is not the way of bull apes. "i am tarzan," cried the ape-man. "i am tarzan. mighty hunter; mighty fighter. in all the jungle none so great as tarzan." then, one by one, the opposing bulls recounted their virtues and their prowess. and all the time the combatants came closer and closer to one another. thus do the bulls work themselves to the proper pitch before engaging in battle. gunto came, stiff-legged, close to tarzan and sniffed at him, with bared fangs. tarzan rumbled forth a low, menacing growl. they might repeat these tactics a dozen times; but sooner or later one bull would close with another and then the whole hideous pack would be tearing and rending at their prey. bulabantu, the black man, had stood wide-eyed in wonder from the moment he had seen tarzan approaching through the apes. he had heard much of this devil-god who ran with the hairy tree people; but never before had he seen him in full daylight. he knew him well enough from the description of those who had seen him and from the glimpses he had had of the marauder upon several occasions when the ape-man had entered the village of mbonga, the chief, by night, in the perpetration of one of his numerous ghastly jokes. bulabantu could not, of course, understand anything which passed between tarzan and the apes; but he saw that the ape-man and one of the larger bulls were in argument with the others. he saw that these two were standing with their back toward him and between him and the balance of the tribe, and he guessed, though it seemed improbable, that they might be defending him. he knew that tarzan had once spared the life of mbonga, the chief, and that he had succored tibo, and tibo's mother, momaya. so it was not impossible that he would help bulabantu; but how he could accomplish it bulabantu could not guess; nor as a matter of fact could tarzan, for the odds against him were too great. gunto and the others were slowly forcing tarzan and taug back toward bulabantu. the ape-man thought of his words with tantor just a short time before: "yes, tantor, it is good to live. i should hate to die." and now he knew that he was about to die, for the temper of the great bulls was mounting rapidly against him. always had many of them hated him, and all were suspicious of him. they knew he was different. tarzan knew it too; but he was glad that he was--he was a man; that he had learned from his picture-books, and he was very proud of the distinction. presently, though, he would be a dead man. gunto was preparing to charge. tarzan knew the signs. he knew that the balance of the bulls would charge with gunto. then it would soon be over. something moved among the verdure at the opposite side of the clearing. tarzan saw it just as gunto, with the terrifying cry of a challenging ape, sprang forward. tarzan voiced a peculiar call and then crouched to meet the assault. taug crouched, too, and bulabantu, assured now that these two were fighting upon his side, couched his spear and sprang between them to receive the first charge of the enemy. simultaneously a huge bulk broke into the clearing from the jungle behind the charging bulls. the trumpeting of a mad tusker rose shrill above the cries of the anthropoids, as tantor, the elephant, dashed swiftly across the clearing to the aid of his friend. gunto never closed upon the ape-man, nor did a fang enter flesh upon either side. the terrific reverberation of tantor's challenge sent the bulls scurrying to the trees, jabbering and scolding. taug raced off with them. only tarzan and bulabantu remained. the latter stood his ground because he saw that the devil-god did not run, and because the black had the courage to face a certain and horrible death beside one who had quite evidently dared death for him. but it was a surprised gomangani who saw the mighty elephant come to a sudden halt in front of the ape-man and caress him with his long, sinuous trunk. tarzan turned toward the black man. "go!" he said in the language of the apes, and pointed in the direction of the village of mbonga. bulabantu understood the gesture, if not the word, nor did he lose time in obeying. tarzan stood watching him until he had disappeared. he knew that the apes would not follow. then he said to the elephant: "pick me up!" and the tusker swung him lightly to his head. "tarzan goes to his lair by the big water," shouted the ape-man to the apes in the trees. "all of you are more foolish than manu, except taug and teeka. taug and teeka may come to see tarzan; but the others must keep away. tarzan is done with the tribe of kerchak." he prodded tantor with a calloused toe and the big beast swung off across the clearing, the apes watching them until they were swallowed up by the jungle. before the night fell taug killed gunto, picking a quarrel with him over his attack upon tarzan. for a moon the tribe saw nothing of tarzan of the apes. many of them probably never gave him a thought; but there were those who missed him more than tarzan imagined. taug and teeka often wished that he was back, and taug determined a dozen times to go and visit tarzan in his seaside lair; but first one thing and then another interfered. one night when taug lay sleepless looking up at the starry heavens he recalled the strange things that tarzan once had suggested to him--that the bright spots were the eyes of the meat-eaters waiting in the dark of the jungle sky to leap upon goro, the moon, and devour him. the more he thought about this matter the more perturbed he became. and then a strange thing happened. even as taug looked at goro, he saw a portion of one edge disappear, precisely as though something was gnawing upon it. larger and larger became the hole in the side of goro. with a scream, taug leaped to his feet. his frenzied "kreeg-ahs!" brought the terrified tribe screaming and chattering toward him. "look!" cried taug, pointing at the moon. "look! it is as tarzan said. numa has sprung through the fires and is devouring goro. you called tarzan names and drove him from the tribe; now see how wise he was. let one of you who hated tarzan go to goro's aid. see the eyes in the dark jungle all about goro. he is in danger and none can help him--none except tarzan. soon goro will be devoured by numa and we shall have no more light after kudu seeks his lair. how shall we dance the dum-dum without the light of goro?" the apes trembled and whimpered. any manifestation of the powers of nature always filled them with terror, for they could not understand. "go and bring tarzan," cried one, and then they all took up the cry of "tarzan!" "bring tarzan!" "he will save goro." but who was to travel the dark jungle by night to fetch him? "i will go," volunteered taug, and an instant later he was off through the stygian gloom toward the little land-locked harbor by the sea. and as the tribe waited they watched the slow devouring of the moon. already numa had eaten out a great semicircular piece. at that rate goro would be entirely gone before kudu came again. the apes trembled at the thought of perpetual darkness by night. they could not sleep. restlessly they moved here and there among the branches of trees, watching numa of the skies at his deadly feast, and listening for the coming of taug with tarzan. goro was nearly gone when the apes heard the sounds of the approach through the trees of the two they awaited, and presently tarzan, followed by taug, swung into a nearby tree. the ape-man wasted no time in idle words. in his hand was his long bow and at his back hung a quiver full of arrows, poisoned arrows that he had stolen from the village of the blacks; just as he had stolen the bow. up into a great tree he clambered, higher and higher until he stood swaying upon a small limb which bent low beneath his weight. here he had a clear and unobstructed view of the heavens. he saw goro and the inroads which the hungry numa had made into his shining surface. raising his face to the moon, tarzan shrilled forth his hideous challenge. faintly and from afar came the roar of an answering lion. the apes shivered. numa of the skies had answered tarzan. then the ape-man fitted an arrow to his bow, and drawing the shaft far back, aimed its point at the heart of numa where he lay in the heavens devouring goro. there was a loud twang as the released bolt shot into the dark heavens. again and again did tarzan of the apes launch his arrows at numa, and all the while the apes of the tribe of kerchak huddled together in terror. at last came a cry from taug. "look! look!" he screamed. "numa is killed. tarzan has killed numa. see! goro is emerging from the belly of numa," and, sure enough, the moon was gradually emerging from whatever had devoured her, whether it was numa, the lion, or the shadow of the earth; but were you to try to convince an ape of the tribe of kerchak that it was aught but numa who so nearly devoured goro that night, or that another than tarzan preserved the brilliant god of their savage and mysterious rites from a frightful death, you would have difficulty--and a fight on your hands. and so tarzan of the apes came back to the tribe of kerchak, and in his coming he took a long stride toward the kingship, which he ultimately won, for now the apes looked up to him as a superior being. in all the tribe there was but one who was at all skeptical about the plausibility of tarzan's remarkable rescue of goro, and that one, strange as it may seem, was tarzan of the apes. 