Chapter 15

Son of Tarzan

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER 15, SON OF TARZAN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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And out in the jungle, far away, Korak, covered with wounds,
stiff with clotted blood, burning with rage and sorrow, swung
back upon the trail of the great baboons. He had not found them
where he had last seen them, nor in any of their usual haunts;
but he sought them along the well-marked spoor they had left
behind them, and at last he overtook them. When first he came
upon them they were moving slowly but steadily southward in
one of those periodic migrations the reasons for which the baboon
himself is best able to explain. At sight of the white warrior
who came upon them from down wind the herd halted in response to
the warning cry of the sentinel that had discovered him. There was
much growling and muttering; much stiff-legged circling on the
part of the bulls. The mothers, in nervous, high pitched tones,
called their young to their sides, and with them moved to safety
behind their lords and masters.

Korak called aloud to the king, who, at the familiar voice,
advanced slowly, warily, and still stiff-legged. He must have the
confirmatory evidence of his nose before venturing to rely too
implicitly upon the testimony of his ears and eyes. Korak stood
perfectly still. To have advanced then might have precipitated
an immediate attack, or, as easily, a panic of flight. Wild beasts
are creatures of nerves. It is a relatively simple thing to throw
them into a species of hysteria which may induce either a mania
for murder, or symptoms of apparent abject cowardice--it is a
question, however, if a wild animal ever is actually a coward.

The king baboon approached Korak. He walked around him
in an ever decreasing circle--growling, grunting, sniffing.
Korak spoke to him.

"I am Korak," he said. "I opened the cage that held you.
I saved you from the Tarmangani. I am Korak, The Killer.
I am your friend."

"Huh," grunted the king. "Yes, you are Korak. My ears told
me that you were Korak. My eyes told you that you were Korak.
Now my nose tells me that you are Korak. My nose is never wrong.
I am your friend. Come, we shall hunt together."

"Korak cannot hunt now," replied the ape-man. "The Gomangani
have stolen Meriem. They have tied her in their village.
They will not let her go. Korak, alone, was unable to set
her free. Korak set you free. Now will you bring your people
and set Korak's Meriem free?"

"The Gomangani have many sharp sticks which they throw.
They pierce the bodies of my people. They kill us.
The gomangani are bad people. They will kill us all if we
enter their village."

"The Tarmangani have sticks that make a loud noise and kill
at a great distance," replied Korak. "They had these when
Korak set you free from their trap. If Korak had run away
from them you would now be a prisoner among the Tarmangani."

The baboon scratched his head. In a rough circle about him
and the ape-man squatted the bulls of his herd. They blinked
their eyes, shouldered one another about for more advantageous
positions, scratched in the rotting vegetation upon the chance of
unearthing a toothsome worm, or sat listlessly eyeing their king
and the strange Mangani, who called himself thus but who more
closely resembled the hated Tarmangani. The king looked at
some of the older of his subjects, as though inviting suggestion.

"We are too few," grunted one.

"There are the baboons of the hill country," suggested another.
"They are as many as the leaves of the forest. They, too,
hate the Gomangani. They love to fight. They are very savage.
Let us ask them to accompany us. Then can we kill all the
Gomangani in the jungle." He rose and growled horribly,
bristling his stiff hair.

"That is the way to talk," cried The Killer, "but we do not
need the baboons of the hill country. We are enough. It will
take a long time to fetch them. Meriem may be dead and eaten
before we could free her. Let us set out at once for the village
of the Gomangani. If we travel very fast it will not take long to
reach it. Then, all at the same time, we can charge into the
village, growling and barking. The Gomangani will be very
frightened and will run away. While they are gone we can seize
Meriem and carry her off. We do not have to kill or be killed--
all that Korak wishes is his Meriem."

"We are too few," croaked the old ape again.

"Yes, we are too few," echoed others.

Korak could not persuade them. They would help him, gladly;
but they must do it in their own way and that meant enlisting
the services of their kinsmen and allies of the hill country.
So Korak was forced to give in. All he could do for the present
was to urge them to haste, and at his suggestion the king baboon
with a dozen of his mightiest bulls agreed to go to the hill
country with Korak, leaving the balance of the herd behind.

Once enlisted in the adventure the baboons became quite
enthusiastic about it. The delegation set off immediately.
They traveled swiftly; but the ape-man found no difficulty in
keeping up with them. They made a tremendous racket as they
passed through the trees in an endeavor to suggest to enemies
in their front that a great herd was approaching, for when the
baboons travel in large numbers there is no jungle creature who
cares to molest them. When the nature of the country required
much travel upon the level, and the distance between trees was
great, they moved silently, knowing that the lion and the leopard
would not be fooled by noise when they could see plainly for
themselves that only a handful of baboons were on the trail.

For two days the party raced through the savage country, passing
out of the dense jungle into an open plain, and across this
to timbered mountain slopes. Here Korak never before had been.
It was a new country to him and the change from the monotony
of the circumscribed view in the jungle was pleasing. But he
had little desire to enjoy the beauties of nature at this time.
Meriem, his Meriem was in danger. Until she was freed and
returned to him he had little thought for aught else.

Once in the forest that clothed the mountain slopes the baboons
advanced more slowly. Constantly they gave tongue to a
plaintive note of calling. Then would follow silence while
they listened. At last, faintly from the distance straight
ahead came an answer.

The baboons continued to travel in the direction of the voices
that floated through the forest to them in the intervals of their
own silence. Thus, calling and listening, they came closer to
their kinsmen, who, it was evident to Korak, were coming to
meet them in great numbers; but when, at last, the baboons of
the hill country came in view the ape-man was staggered at the
reality that broke upon his vision.

What appeared a solid wall of huge baboons rose from the
ground through the branches of the trees to the loftiest terrace
to which they dared entrust their weight. Slowly they were
approaching, voicing their weird, plaintive call, and behind them,
as far as Korak's eyes could pierce the verdure, rose solid walls
of their fellows treading close upon their heels. There were
thousands of them. The ape-man could not but think of the fate
of his little party should some untoward incident arouse even
momentarily the rage of fear of a single one of all these thousands.

But nothing such befell. The two kings approached one another,
as was their custom, with much sniffing and bristling.
They satisfied themselves of each other's identity. Then each
scratched the other's back. After a moment they spoke together.
Korak's friend explained the nature of their visit, and for the
first time Korak showed himself. He had been hiding behind a bush.
The excitement among the hill baboons was intense at sight of him.
For a moment Korak feared that he should be torn to pieces;
but his fear was for Meriem. Should he die there would be none
to succor her.

The two kings, however, managed to quiet the multitude, and
Korak was permitted to approach. Slowly the hill baboons came
closer to him. They sniffed at him from every angle. When he
spoke to them in their own tongue they were filled with wonder
and delight. They talked to him and listened while he spoke.
He told them of Meriem, and of their life in the jungle where they
were the friends of all the ape folk from little Manu to Mangani,
the great ape.

"The Gomangani, who are keeping Meriem from me, are no friends
of yours," he said. "They kill you. The baboons of the
low country are too few to go against them. They tell me that
you are very many and very brave--that your numbers are as
the numbers of the grasses upon the plains or the leaves within
the forest, and that even Tantor, the elephant, fears you, so brave
you are. They told me that you would be happy to accompany
us to the village of the Gomangani and punish these bad people
while I, Korak, The Killer, carry away my Meriem."

The king ape puffed out his chest and strutted about very stiff-
legged indeed. So also did many of the other great bulls of
his nation. They were pleased and flattered by the words of
the strange Tarmangani, who called himself Mangani and spoke the
language of the hairy progenitors of man.

"Yes," said one, "we of the hill country are mighty fighters.
Tantor fears us. Numa fears us. Sheeta fears us. The Gomangani
of the hill country are glad to pass us by in peace. I, for one,
will come with you to the village of the Gomangani of the low places.
I am the king's first he-child. Alone can I kill all the Gomangani
of the low country," and he swelled his chest and strutted proudly
back and forth, until the itching back of a comrade commanded his
industrious attention.

"I am Goob," cried another. "My fighting fangs are long.
They are sharp. They are strong. Into the soft flesh of many a
Gomangani have they been buried. Alone I slew the sister of Sheeta.
Goob will go to the low country with you and kill so many of the
Gomangani that there will be none left to count the dead," and
then he, too, strutted and pranced before the admiring eyes of the
shes and the young.

Korak looked at the king, questioningly.

"Your bulls are very brave," he said; "but braver than any is
the king."

Thus addressed, the shaggy bull, still in his prime--else he
had been no longer king--growled ferociously. The forest
echoed to his lusty challenges. The little baboons clutched
fearfully at their mothers' hairy necks. The bulls, electrified,
leaped high in air and took up the roaring challenge of their king.
The din was terrific.

Korak came close to the king and shouted in his ear, "Come."
Then he started off through the forest toward the plain that they
must cross on their long journey back to the village of Kovudoo,
the Gomangani. The king, still roaring and shrieking, wheeled
and followed him. In their wake came the handful of low country
baboons and the thousands of the hill clan--savage, wiry, dog-like
creatures, athirst for blood.

And so they came, upon the second day, to the village of Kovudoo.
It was mid-afternoon. The village was sunk in the quiet of the
great equatorial sun-heat. The mighty herd traveled quietly now.
Beneath the thousands of padded feet the forest gave forth no
greater sound than might have been produced by the increased
soughing of a stronger breeze through the leafy branches of
the trees.

Korak and the two kings were in the lead. Close beside the
village they halted until the stragglers had closed up. Now utter
silence reigned. Korak, creeping stealthily, entered the tree
that overhung the palisade. He glanced behind him. The pack were
close upon his heels. The time had come. He had warned them
continuously during the long march that no harm must befall
the white she who lay a prisoner within the village. All others
were their legitimate prey. Then, raising his face toward the sky,
he gave voice to a single cry. It was the signal.

In response three thousand hairy bulls leaped screaming and
barking into the village of the terrified blacks. Warriors poured
from every hut. Mothers gathered their babies in their arms and
fled toward the gates as they saw the horrid horde pouring into
the village street. Kovudoo marshaled his fighting men about
him and, leaping and yelling to arouse their courage, offered a
bristling, spear tipped front to the charging horde.

Korak, as he had led the march, led the charge. The blacks
were struck with horror and dismay at the sight of this white-
skinned youth at the head of a pack of hideous baboons. For an
instant they held their ground, hurling their spears once at the
advancing multitude; but before they could fit arrows to their
bows they wavered, gave, and turned in terrified rout. Into their
ranks, upon their backs, sinking strong fangs into the muscles
of their necks sprang the baboons and first among them, most
ferocious, most blood-thirsty, most terrible was Korak, The Killer.

At the village gates, through which the blacks poured in panic,
Korak left them to the tender mercies of his allies and turned
himself eagerly toward the hut in which Meriem had been a prisoner.
It was empty. One after another the filthy interiors revealed
the same disheartening fact--Meriem was in none of them.
That she had not been taken by the blacks in their flight
from the village Korak knew for he had watched carefully for a
glimpse of her among the fugitives.

To the mind of the ape-man, knowing as he did the proclivities
of the savages, there was but a single explanation--Meriem had
been killed and eaten. With the conviction that Meriem was dead
there surged through Korak's brain a wave of blood red rage
against those he believed to be her murderer. In the distance he
could hear the snarling of the baboons mixed with the screams
of their victims, and towards this he made his way. When he
came upon them the baboons had commenced to tire of the sport
of battle, and the blacks in a little knot were making a new stand,
using their knob sticks effectively upon the few bulls who still
persisted in attacking them.

Among these broke Korak from the branches of a tree above
them--swift, relentless, terrible, he hurled himself upon the
savage warriors of Kovudoo. Blind fury possessed him. Too, it
protected him by its very ferocity. Like a wounded lioness he
was here, there, everywhere, striking terrific blows with hard
fists and with the precision and timeliness of the trained fighter.
Again and again he buried his teeth in the flesh of a foeman.
He was upon one and gone again to another before an effective blow
could be dealt him. Yet, though great was the weight of his
execution in determining the result of the combat, it was
outweighed by the terror which he inspired in the simple,
superstitious minds of his foeman. To them this white warrior,
who consorted with the great apes and the fierce baboons, who
growled and snarled and snapped like a beast, was not human.
He was a demon of the forest--a fearsome god of evil whom
they had offended, and who had come out of his lair deep in the
jungle to punish them. And because of this belief there were
many who offered but little defense, feeling as they did the
futility of pitting their puny mortal strength against that
of a deity.

Those who could fled, until at last there were no more to pay
the penalty for a deed, which, while not beyond them, they
were, nevertheless, not guilty of. Panting and bloody, Korak
paused for want of further victims. The baboons gathered about
him, sated themselves with blood and battle. They lolled upon
the ground, fagged.

In the distance Kovudoo was gathering his scattered tribesmen,
and taking account of injuries and losses. His people were
panic stricken. Nothing could prevail upon them to remain longer
in this country. They would not even return to the village for
their belongings. Instead they insisted upon continuing their
flight until they had put many miles between themselves and the
stamping ground of the demon who had so bitterly attacked them.
And thus it befell that Korak drove from their homes the
only people who might have aided him in a search for Meriem,
and cut off the only connecting link between him and her from
whomsoever might come in search of him from the douar of the
kindly Bwana who had befriended his little jungle sweetheart.

It was a sour and savage Korak who bade farewell to his baboon
allies upon the following morning. They wished him to
accompany him; but the ape-man had no heart for the society
of any. Jungle life had encouraged taciturnity in him. His sorrow
had deepened this to a sullen moroseness that could not brook
even the savage companionship of the ill-natured baboons.

Brooding and despondent he took his solitary way into the
deepest jungle. He moved along the ground when he knew that
Numa was abroad and hungry. He took to the same trees that
harbored Sheeta, the panther. He courted death in a hundred
ways and a hundred forms. His mind was ever occupied with
reminiscences of Meriem and the happy years that they had
spent together. He realized now to the full what she had meant
to him. The sweet face, the tanned, supple, little body, the
bright smile that always had welcomed his return from the hunt
haunted him continually.

Inaction soon threatened him with madness. He must be on
the go. He must fill his days with labor and excitement that he
might forget--that night might find him so exhausted that he
should sleep in blessed unconsciousness of his misery until a
new day had come.

Had he guessed that by any possibility Meriem might still live
he would at least have had hope. His days could have been
devoted to searching for her; but he implicitly believed that
she was dead.

For a long year he led his solitary, roaming life. Occasionally he
fell in with Akut and his tribe, hunting with them for a day or two;
or he might travel to the hill country where the baboons had come
to accept him as a matter of course; but most of all was he with
Tantor, the elephant--the great gray battle ship of the jungle--the
super-dreadnaught of his savage world.

The peaceful quiet of the monster bulls, the watchful solicitude
of the mother cows, the awkward playfulness of the calves rested,
interested, and amused Korak. The life of the huge beasts
took his mind, temporarily from his own grief. He came to love
them as he loved not even the great apes, and there was one
gigantic tusker in particular of which he was very fond--the lord
of the herd--a savage beast that was wont to charge a stranger
upon the slightest provocation, or upon no provocation whatsoever.
And to Korak this mountain of destruction was docile and
affectionate as a lap dog.

He came when Korak called. He wound his trunk about the
ape-man's body and lifted him to his broad neck in response to
a gesture, and there would Korak lie at full length kicking his
toes affectionately into the thick hide and brushing the flies from
about the tender ears of his colossal chum with a leafy branch
torn from a nearby tree by Tantor for the purpose.

And all the while Meriem was scarce a hundred miles away.