XI. — 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 theatrical 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.
