Chapter 8

Son of Tarzan

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER 8, SON OF TARZAN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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A year had passed since the two Swedes had been driven in terror
from the savage country where The Sheik held sway. Little Meriem
still played with Geeka, lavishing all her childish love upon the
now almost hopeless ruin of what had never, even in its palmiest
days, possessed even a slight degree of loveliness. But to Meriem,
Geeka was all that was sweet and adorable. She carried to the deaf
ears of the battered ivory head all her sorrows all her hopes and
all her ambitions, for even in the face of hopelessness, in the
clutches of the dread authority from which there was no escape,
little Meriem yet cherished hopes and ambitions. It is true that
her ambitions were rather nebulous in form, consisting chiefly of
a desire to escape with Geeka to some remote and unknown spot where
there were no Sheiks, no Mabunus--where El Adrea could find no
entrance, and where she might play all day surrounded only by flowers
and birds and the harmless little monkeys playing in the tree tops.

The Sheik had been away for a long time, conducting a caravan
of ivory, skins, and rubber far into the north. The interim
had been one of great peace for Meriem. It is true that Mabunu
had still been with her, to pinch or beat her as the mood seized
the villainous old hag; but Mabunu was only one. When The
Sheik was there also there were two of them, and The Sheik was
stronger and more brutal even than Mabunu. Little Meriem often
wondered why the grim old man hated her so. It is true that he was
cruel and unjust to all with whom he came in contact, but to Meriem
he reserved his greatest cruelties, his most studied injustices.

Today Meriem was squatting at the foot of a large tree which grew
inside the palisade close to the edge of the village. She was
fashioning a tent of leaves for Geeka. Before the tent were
some pieces of wood and small leaves and a few stones. These were
the household utensils. Geeka was cooking dinner. As the
little girl played she prattled continuously to her companion,
propped in a sitting position with a couple of twigs. She was
totally absorbed in the domestic duties of Geeka--so much so
that she did not note the gentle swaying of the branches of the
tree above her as they bent to the body of the creature that had
entered them stealthily from the jungle.

In happy ignorance the little girl played on, while from above
two steady eyes looked down upon her--unblinking, unwavering.
There was none other than the little girl in this part of the
village, which had been almost deserted since The Sheik had
left long months before upon his journey toward the north.

And out in the jungle, an hour's march from the village, The
Sheik was leading his returning caravan homeward.


A year had passed since the white men had fired upon the lad and
driven him back into the jungle to take up his search for the only
remaining creatures to whom he might look for companionship--the
great apes. For months the two had wandered eastward, deeper and
deeper into the jungle. The year had done much for the boy--turning
his already mighty muscles to thews of steel, developing his
woodcraft to a point where it verged upon the uncanny, perfecting
his arboreal instincts, and training him in the use of both natural
and artificial weapons.

He had become at last a creature of marvelous physical powers
and mental cunning. He was still but a boy, yet so great was
his strength that the powerful anthropoid with which he often
engaged in mimic battle was no match for him. Akut had taught
him to fight as the bull ape fights, nor ever was there a teacher
better fitted to instruct in the savage warfare of primordial man,
or a pupil better equipped to profit by the lessons of a master.

As the two searched for a band of the almost extinct species
of ape to which Akut belonged they lived upon the best the
jungle afforded. Antelope and zebra fell to the boy's spear,
or were dragged down by the two powerful beasts of prey who
leaped upon them from some overhanging limb or from the ambush
of the undergrowth beside the trail to the water hole or the ford.

The pelt of a leopard covered the nakedness of the youth; but the
wearing of it had not been dictated by any prompting of modesty.
With the rifle shots of the white men showering about him he had
reverted to the savagery of the beast that is inherent in each of
us, but that flamed more strongly in this boy whose father had been
raised a beast of prey. He wore his leopard skin at first in
response to a desire to parade a trophy of his prowess, for he
had slain the leopard with his knife in a hand-to-hand combat.
He saw that the skin was beautiful, which appealed to his barbaric
sense of ornamentation, and when it stiffened and later commenced
to decompose because of his having no knowledge of how to cure or
tan it was with sorrow and regret that he discarded it. Later, when
he chanced upon a lone, black warrior wearing the counterpart of it,
soft and clinging and beautiful from proper curing, it required but
an instant to leap from above upon the shoulders of the unsuspecting
black, sink a keen blade into his heart and possess the rightly
preserved hide.

There were no after-qualms of conscience. In the jungle might
is right, nor does it take long to inculcate this axiom in the mind
of a jungle dweller, regardless of what his past training may
have been. That the black would have killed him had he had the
chance the boy knew full well. Neither he nor the black were
any more sacred than the lion, or the buffalo, the zebra or the
deer, or any other of the countless creatures who roamed, or
slunk, or flew, or wriggled through the dark mazes of the forest.
Each had but a single life, which was sought by many. The greater
number of enemies slain the better chance to prolong that life.
So the boy smiled and donned the finery of the vanquished, and
went his way with Akut, searching, always searching for the
elusive anthropoids who were to welcome them with open arms.
And at last they found them. Deep in the jungle, buried far from
sight of man, they came upon such another little natural arena
as had witnessed the wild ceremony of the Dum-Dum in which the
boy's father had taken part long years before.

First, at a great distance, they heard the beating of the drum
of the great apes. They were sleeping in the safety of a huge
tree when the booming sound smote upon their ears. Both awoke
at once. Akut was the first to interpret the strange cadence.

"The great apes!" he growled. "They dance the Dum-Dum.
Come, Korak, son of Tarzan, let us go to our people."

Months before Akut had given the boy a name of his own choosing,
since he could not master the man given name of Jack. Korak is
as near as it may be interpreted into human speech. In the
language of the apes it means Killer. Now the Killer rose
upon the branch of the great tree where he had been sleeping
with his back braced against the stem. He stretched his lithe
young muscles, the moonlight filtering through the foliage from
above dappling his brown skin with little patches of light.

The ape, too, stood up, half squatting after the manner of
his kind. Low growls rumbled from the bottom of his deep chest--
growls of excited anticipation. The boy growled in harmony
with the ape. Then the anthropoid slid softly to the ground.
Close by, in the direction of the booming drum, lay a clearing
which they must cross. The moon flooded it with silvery light.
Half-erect, the great ape shuffled into the full glare of the moon.
At his side, swinging gracefully along in marked contrast to the
awkwardness of his companion, strode the boy, the dark, shaggy
coat of the one brushing against the smooth, clear hide of
the other. The lad was humming now, a music hall air that had
found its way to the forms of the great English public school
that was to see him no more. He was happy and expectant.
The moment he had looked forward to for so long was about to
be realized. He was coming into his own. He was coming home.
As the months had dragged or flown along, retarded or spurred
on as privation or adventure predominated, thoughts of his own
home, while oft recurring, had become less vivid. The old life
had grown to seem more like a dream than a reality, and the
balking of his determination to reach the coast and return to
London had finally thrown the hope of realization so remotely
into the future that it too now seemed little more than a
pleasant but hopeless dream.

Now all thoughts of London and civilization were crowded so far
into the background of his brain that they might as well have
been non-existent. Except for form and mental development he
was as much an ape as the great, fierce creature at his side.

In the exuberance of his joy he slapped his companion roughly on
the side of the head. Half in anger, half in play the anthropoid
turned upon him, his fangs bared and glistening. Long, hairy
arms reached out to seize him, and, as they had done a thousand
times before, the two clinched in mimic battle, rolling upon the
sward, striking, growling and biting, though never closing their
teeth in more than a rough pinch. It was wondrous practice for
them both. The boy brought into play wrestling tricks that he
had learned at school, and many of these Akut learned to use
and to foil. And from the ape the boy learned the methods that
had been handed down to Akut from some common ancestor of
them both, who had roamed the teeming earth when ferns were
trees and crocodiles were birds.

But there was one art the boy possessed which Akut could not
master, though he did achieve fair proficiency in it for an
ape--boxing. To have his bull-like charges stopped and crumpled
with a suddenly planted fist upon the end of his snout, or a
painful jolt in the short ribs, always surprised Akut. It angered
him too, and at such times his mighty jaws came nearer to closing
in the soft flesh of his friend than at any other, for he was still
an ape, with an ape's short temper and brutal instincts; but the
difficulty was in catching his tormentor while his rage lasted, for
when he lost his head and rushed madly into close quarters with
the boy he discovered that the stinging hail of blows released
upon him always found their mark and effectually stopped
him--effectually and painfully. Then he would withdraw growling
viciously, backing away with grinning jaws distended, to sulk for
an hour or so.

Tonight they did not box. Just for a moment or two they wrestled
playfully, until the scent of Sheeta, the panther, brought them
to their feet, alert and wary. The great cat was passing through
the jungle in front of them. For a moment it paused, listening.
The boy and the ape growled menacingly in chorus and the carnivore
moved on.

Then the two took up their journey toward the sound of the Dum-Dum.
Louder and louder came the beating of the drum. Now, at last,
they could hear the growling of the dancing apes, and strong to
their nostrils came the scent of their kind. The lad trembled
with excitement. The hair down Akut's spine stiffened--the
symptoms of happiness and anger are often similar.

Silently they crept through the jungle as they neared the meeting
place of the apes. Now they were in the trees, worming their way
forward, alert for sentinels. Presently through a break in the
foliage the scene burst upon the eager eyes of the boy. To Akut
it was a familiar one; but to Korak it was all new. His nerves
tingled at the savage sight. The great bulls were dancing in the
moonlight, leaping in an irregular circle about the flat-topped
earthen drum about which three old females sat beating its
resounding top with sticks worn smooth by long years of use.

Akut, knowing the temper and customs of his kind, was too wise
to make their presence known until the frenzy of the dance
had passed. After the drum was quiet and the bellies of the tribe
well-filled he would hail them. Then would come a parley, after
which he and Korak would be accepted into membership by the community.
There might be those who would object; but such could be overcome by
brute force, of which he and the lad had an ample surplus. For weeks,
possibly months, their presence might cause ever decreasing suspicion
among others of the tribe; but eventually they would become as born
brothers to these strange apes.

He hoped that they had been among those who had known Tarzan,
for that would help in the introduction of the lad and in the
consummation of Akut's dearest wish, that Korak should become
king of the apes. It was with difficulty, however, that Akut
kept the boy from rushing into the midst of the dancing
anthropoids--an act that would have meant the instant extermination
of them both, since the hysterical frenzy into which the great
apes work themselves during the performance of their strange
rites is of such a nature that even the most ferocious of the
carnivora give them a wide berth at such times.

As the moon declined slowly toward the lofty, foliaged horizon
of the amphitheater the booming of the drum decreased and
lessened were the exertions of the dancers, until, at last, the
final note was struck and the huge beasts turned to fall upon the
feast they had dragged hither for the orgy.

From what he had seen and heard Akut was able to explain
to Korak that the rites proclaimed the choosing of a new king,
and he pointed out to the boy the massive figure of the shaggy
monarch, come into his kingship, no doubt, as many human
rulers have come into theirs--by the murder of his predecessor.

When the apes had filled their bellies and many of them had
sought the bases of the trees to curl up in sleep Akut plucked
Korak by the arm.

"Come," he whispered. "Come slowly. Follow me. Do as Akut does."

Then he advanced slowly through the trees until he stood upon
a bough overhanging one side of the amphitheater. Here he
stood in silence for a moment. Then he uttered a low growl.
Instantly a score of apes leaped to their feet. There savage
little eyes sped quickly around the periphery of the clearing.
The king ape was the first to see the two figures upon the branch.
He gave voice to an ominous growl. Then he took a few lumbering
steps in the direction of the intruders. His hair was bristling.
His legs were stiff, imparting a halting, jerky motion to his gait.
Behind him pressed a number of bulls.

He stopped just a little before he came beneath the two--just
far enough to be beyond their spring. Wary king! Here he stood
rocking himself to and fro upon his short legs, baring his fangs
in hideous grinnings, rumbling out an ever increasing volume of
growls, which were slowly but steadily increasing to the proportions
of roars. Akut knew that he was planning an attack upon them.
The old ape did not wish to fight. He had come with the boy to
cast his lot with the tribe.

"I am Akut," he said. "This is Korak. Korak is the son of
Tarzan who was king of the apes. I, too, was king of the apes
who dwelt in the midst of the great waters. We have come to
hunt with you, to fight with you. We are great hunters. We are
mighty fighters. Let us come in peace."

The king ceased his rocking. He eyed the pair from beneath
his beetling brows. His bloodshot eyes were savage and crafty.
His kingship was very new and he was jealous of it. He feared
the encroachments of two strange apes. The sleek, brown, hairless
body of the lad spelled "man," and man he feared and hated.

"Go away!" he growled. "Go away, or I will kill you."

The eager lad, standing behind the great Akut, had been pulsing
with anticipation and happiness. He wanted to leap down
among these hairy monsters and show them that he was their
friend, that he was one of them. He had expected that they would
receive him with open arms, and now the words of the king ape
filled him with indignation and sorrow. The blacks had set upon
him and driven him away. Then he had turned to the white
men--to those of his own kind--only to hear the ping of bullets
where he had expected words of cordial welcome. The great
apes had remained his final hope. To them he looked for the
companionship man had denied him. Suddenly rage overwhelmed him.

The king ape was almost directly beneath him. The others were
formed in a half circle several yards behind the king. They were
watching events interestedly. Before Akut could guess his
intention, or prevent, the boy leaped to the ground directly in
the path of the king, who had now succeeded in stimulating
himself to a frenzy of fury.

"I am Korak!" shouted the boy. "I am the Killer. I came
to live among you as a friend. You want to drive me away.
Very well, then, I shall go; but before I go I shall show
you that the son of Tarzan is your master, as his father was
before him--that he is not afraid of your king or you."

For an instant the king ape had stood motionless with surprise.
He had expected no such rash action upon the part of either of
the intruders. Akut was equally surprised. Now he shouted
excitedly for Korak to come back, for he knew that in the
sacred arena the other bulls might be expected to come to the
assistance of their king against an outsider, though there was
small likelihood that the king would need assistance. Once those
mighty jaws closed upon the boy's soft neck the end would come quickly.
To leap to his rescue would mean death for Akut, too; but the brave
old ape never hesitated. Bristling and growling, he dropped to
the sward just as the king ape charged.

The beast's hands clutched for their hold as the animal sprang
upon the lad. The fierce jaws were wide distended to bury the
yellow fangs deeply in the brown hide. Korak, too, leaped
forward to meet the attack; but leaped crouching, beneath the
outstretched arms. At the instant of contact the lad pivoted on
one foot, and with all the weight of his body and the strength of
his trained muscles drove a clenched fist into the bull's stomach.
With a gasping shriek the king ape collapsed, clutching futilely
for the agile, naked creature nimbly sidestepping from his grasp.

Howls of rage and dismay broke from the bull apes behind the
fallen king, as with murder in their savage little hearts they
rushed forward upon Korak and Akut; but the old ape was too
wise to court any such unequal encounter. To have counseled
the boy to retreat now would have been futile, and Akut knew it.
To delay even a second in argument would have sealed the
death warrants of them both. There was but a single hope and
Akut seized it. Grasping the lad around the waist he lifted him
bodily from the ground, and turning ran swiftly toward another
tree which swung low branches above the arena. Close upon
their heels swarmed the hideous mob; but Akut, old though he
was and burdened by the weight of the struggling Korak, was
still fleeter than his pursuers.

With a bound he grasped a low limb, and with the agility of
a little monkey swung himself and the boy to temporary safety.
Nor did he hesitate even here; but raced on through the jungle
night, bearing his burden to safety. For a time the bulls pursued;
but presently, as the swifter outdistanced the slower and found
themselves separated from their fellows they abandoned the chase,
standing roaring and screaming until the jungle reverberated to
their hideous noises. Then they turned and retraced their way
to the amphitheater.

When Akut felt assured that they were no longer pursued he
stopped and released Korak. The boy was furious.

"Why did you drag me away?" he cried. "I would have taught them!
I would have taught them all! Now they will think that I am
afraid of them."

"What they think cannot harm you," said Akut. "You are alive.
If I had not brought you away you would be dead now and so
would I. Do you not know that even Numa slinks from the path
of the great apes when there are many of them and they are mad?"