As Stanley Obroski was dragged to earth in the village of Rungula, the
Bansuto, a white man, naked but for a G string, looked down from the
foliage of an overhanging tree upon the scene below and upon the bulk
of the giant chieftain standing beneath him.
The pliant strands of a strong rope braided from jungle grasses swung
in his powerful hands, the shadow of a grim smile played about his
mouth.
Suddenly the rope shot downward; a running noose in its lower end
settled about Rungula's body, pinning his arms at his sides. A cry of
surprise and terror burst from the chief's lips as he felt himself
pinioned; and as those near him turned, attracted by his cry, they saw
him raised quickly from the ground to disappear in the foliage of the
tree above as though hoisted by some supernatural power.
Rungula felt himself dragged to a sturdy branch, and then a mighty hand
seized and steadied him. He was terrified, for he thought his end had
come. Below him a terrified silence had fallen upon the village. Even
the prisoner was forgotten in the excitement and fright that followed
the mysterious disappearance of the chief.
Obroski stood looking about him in amazement. Surrounded by struggling
warriors as he had been he had not seen the miracle of Rungula's
ascension. Now he saw every eye turned upward at the tree that towered
above the chief's hut. He wondered what had happened. He wondered what
they were looking at. He could see nothing unusual. All that lingered
in his memory to give him a clew was the sudden, affrighted cry of
Rungula as the noose had tightened about him.
Rungula heard a voice speaking, speaking his own language. "Look at
me!" it commanded.
Rungula turned his eyes toward the thing that held him. The light from
the village fires filtered through the foliage to dimly reveal the
features of a white man bending above him. Rungula gasped and shrank
back. "Walumbe!" he muttered in terror.
"I am the god of death," replied Tarzan; "I am not Walumbe. But I can
bring death just as quickly, for I am greater than Walumbe. I am Tarzan
of the Apes!"
"What do you want?" asked Rungula through chattering teeth. "What are
you going to do to me?"
"I tested you to see if you were a good man and your people good
people. I made myself into two men, and one I sent where your warriors
could capture him. I wanted to see what you would do to a stranger who
had not harmed you. Now I know. For what you have done you should die.
What have you to say?"
"You are here," said Rungula, "and you are also down there." He nodded
toward the figure of Obroski standing in surprised silence amidst
the warriors. "Therefore you must be a demon. What can I say to a
demon? I can give you food and drink and weapons. I can give you girls
who can cook and draw water and fetch wood and work all day in the
fields—girls with broad hips and strong backs. All these things will I
give you if you will not kill me—if you will just go away and leave us
alone."
"I do not want your food nor your weapons nor your women. I want but
one thing from you, Rungula, as the price of your life."
"What is that, Master?"
"Your promise that you will never again make war upon white men, and
that when they come through your country you will help them instead of
killing them."
"I promise, Master."
"Then call down to your people, and tell them to open the gates and let
the prisoner go out into the forest."
Rungula spoke in a loud voice to his people, and they fell away from
Obroski, leaving him standing alone; then warriors went to the village
gates and swung them open.
Obroski heard the voice of the chief coming from high in a tree,
and he was mystified. He also wondered at the strange action of the
natives and suspected treachery. Why should they fall back and leave
him standing alone when a few moments before they were trying to seize
him and bind him to a tree? Why should they throw the gates wide open?
He did not move. He waited, believing that he was being baited into an
attempt to escape for some ulterior purpose.
Presently another voice came from the tree above the chief's hut,
addressing him in English. "Go out of the village into the forest," it
said. "They will not harm you now. I will join you in the forest."
Obroski was mystified; but the quiet English voice reassured him, and
he turned and walked down the village street toward the gateway.
Tarzan removed the rope from about Rungula, ran lightly through the
tree to the rear of the hut and dropped to the ground. Keeping the huts
between himself and the villagers, he moved swiftly to the opposite
end of the village, scaled the palisade, and dropped into the clearing
beyond. A moment later he was in the forest and circling back toward
the point where Obroski was entering it.
The latter heard no slightest noise of his approach, for there was
none. One instant he was entirely alone, and the next a voice spoke
close behind him. "Follow me," it said.
Obroski wheeled. In the darkness of the forest night he saw dimly only
the figure of a man about his own height. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Tarzan of the Apes."
Obroski was silent, astonished. He had heard of Tarzan of the Apes,
but he had thought that it was no more than a legendary character—a
fiction of the folklore of Africa. He wondered if this were some
demented creature who imagined that it was Tarzan of the Apes. He
wished that he could see the fellow's face; that might give him a clew
to the sanity of the man. He wondered what the stranger's intentions
might be.
Tarzan of the Apes was moving away into the forest. He turned once and
repeated his command, "Follow me!"
"I haven't thanked you yet for getting me out of that mess," said
Obroski as he moved after the retreating figure of the stranger. "It
was certainly decent of you. I'd have been dead by now if it hadn't
been for you."
The ape-man moved on in silence, and Obroski followed him. The silence
preyed a little upon his nerves. It seemed to bear out his deduction
that the man was not quite normal, not as other men. A normal man would
have been asking and answering innumerable questions had he met a
stranger for the first time under such exciting circumstances.
And Obroski's deductions were not wholly inaccurate—Tarzan is not as
other men; the training and the instincts of the wild beast have given
him standards of behavior and a code of ethics peculiarly his own. For
Tarzan there are times for silence and times for speech. The depths of
the night, when hunting beasts are abroad, is no time to go gabbling
through the jungle; nor did he ever care much for speech with strangers
unless he could watch their eyes and the changing expressions upon
their faces, which often told him more than their words were intended
to convey.
So in the silence they moved through the forest, Obroski keeping close
behind the ape-man lest he lose sight of him in the darkness. Ahead of
them a lion roared; and the American wondered if his companion would
change his course or take refuge in a tree, but he did neither. He kept
on in the direction they had been going.
Occasionally the voice of the lion sounded ahead of them, always
closer. Obroski, unarmed and practically naked, felt utterly helpless
and, not unaccountably, nervous. Nor was his nervousness allayed when
a cry, half roar and half weird scream, burst from the throat of his
companion.
After that he heard nothing from the lion for some time; then,
seemingly just ahead of them, he heard throaty, coughing grunts. The
lion! Obroski could scarcely restrain a violent urge to scale a tree,
but he steeled himself and kept on after his guide.
Presently they came to an opening in the forest beside a river. The
moon had risen. Its mellow light flooded the scene, casting deep
shadows where tree and shrub dotted the grass carpeted clearing,
dancing on the swirling ripples of the river.
But the beauty of the scene held his eye for but a brief instant as
though through the shutter of a camera; then it was erased from his
consciousness by a figure looming large ahead of them in the full light
of the African moon. A great lion stood in the open watching them as
they approached. Obroski saw the black mane ripple in the night wind,
the sheen of the yellow body in the moonlight. Now, beyond him, rose a
lioness. She growled.
The stranger turned to Obroski. "Stay where you are," he said. "I do
not know this Sabor; she may be vicious."
Obroski stopped, gladly. He was relieved to discover that he had
stopped near a tree. He wished that he had a rifle, so that he might
save the life of the madman walking unconcernedly toward his doom.
Now he heard the voice of the man who called himself Tarzan of the
Apes, but he understood no word that the man spoke: "Tarmangani yo.
Jad-bal-ja tand bundolo. Savor tand bundolo."
The madman was talking to the great lion! Obroski trembled for him as
he saw him drawing nearer and nearer to the beast.
The lioness rose and slunk forward. "Kreeg-ah Sabor!" exclaimed the man.
The lion turned and rushed upon the lioness, snarling; she crouched and
leaped away. He stood over her growling for a moment; then he turned
and walked forward to meet the man. Obroski's heart stood still.
He saw the man lay a hand upon the head of the huge carnivore and then
turn and look back at him. "You may come up now," he said, "that
Jad-bal-ja may get your scent and know that you are a friend. Afterward
he will never harm you—unless I tell him to."
Obroski was terrified. He wanted to run, to climb the tree beside
which he stood, to do anything that would get him away from the lion
and the lioness; but he feared still more to leave the man who had
befriended him. Paralyzed by fright, he advanced; and Tarzan of the
Apes, believing him courageous, was pleased.
Jad-bal-ja was growling in his throat. Tarzan spoke to him in a low
voice, and he stopped. Obroski came and stood close to him, and the
lion sniffed at his legs and body. Obroski felt the hot breath of the
flesh eater on his skin.
"Put your hand on his head," said Tarzan. "If you are afraid do not
show it."
The American did as he was bid. Presently Jad-bal-ja rubbed his head
against the body of the man; then Tarzan spoke again, and the lion
turned and walked away toward the lioness, lying down beside her.
Now, for the first time, Obroski looked at his strange companion under
the light of the full moon. He voiced an exclamation of amazement—he
might have been looking into a mirror.
Tarzan smiled—one of his rare smiles. "Remarkable, isn't it?" he said.
"It's uncanny," replied Obroski.
"I think that is why I saved you from the Bansutos—it was too much
like seeing myself killed."
"I'm sure you would have saved me anyway."
The ape-man shrugged. "Why should I have? I did not know you."
Tarzan stretched his body upon the soft grasses. "We shall lie up here
for the night," he said.
Obroski shot a quick glance in the direction of the two lions lying a
few yards away, and Tarzan interpreted his thoughts.
"Don't worry about them," he said. "Jad-bal-ja will see that nothing
harms you, but look out for the lioness when he is not around. He
just picked her up the other day. She hasn't made friends with me yet,
and she probably never will. Now, if you care to, tell me what you are
doing in this country."
Briefly Obroski explained, and Tarzan listened until he had finished.
"If I had known you were one of that safari I probably would have let
the Bansutos kill you."
"Why? What have you got against us?"
"I saw your leader whipping his blacks," replied Tarzan.
Obroski was silent for a time. He had come to realize that this man
who called himself Tarzan of the Apes was a most remarkable man, and
that his power for good or evil in this savage country might easily
be considerable. He would be a good friend to have, and his enmity
might prove fatal. He could ruin their chances of making a successful
picture—he could ruin Orman.
Obroski did not like Orman. He had good reasons not to like him. Naomi
Madison was one of these reasons. But there were other things to
consider than a personal grudge. There was the money invested by the
studio, the careers of his fellow players, and even Orman—Orman was a
great director.
He explained all this to Tarzan—all except his hatred of Orman.
"Orman," he concluded, "was drunk when he whipped the blacks, he had
been down with fever, he was terribly worried. Those who knew him best
said it was most unlike him."
Tarzan made no comment, and Obroski said no more. He lay looking up
at the great full moon, thinking. He thought of Naomi and wondered.
What was there about her that he loved? She was petty, inconsiderate,
arrogant, spoiled. Her character could not compare with that of Rhonda
Terry, for instance; and Rhonda was fully as beautiful.
At last he decided that it was the glamour of the Madison's name and
fame that had attracted him—stripped of these, there was little about
her to inspire anything greater than an infatuation such as a man
might feel for any beautiful face and perfect body.
He thought of his companions of the safari, and wondered what they
would think if they could see him now lying down to sleep with a wild
man and two savage African lions. Smiling, he dozed and fell asleep.
He did not see the lioness rise and cross the clearing with Jad-bal-ja
pacing majestically behind her as they set forth upon the grim business
of the hunt.
