Chapter 16

Son of Tarzan

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER 16, SON OF TARZAN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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To Meriem, in her new home, the days passed quickly. At first
she was all anxiety to be off into the jungle searching for
her Korak. Bwana, as she insisted upon calling her benefactor,
dissuaded her from making the attempt at once by dispatching
a head man with a party of blacks to Kovudoo's village
with instructions to learn from the old savage how he came
into possession of the white girl and as much of her antecedents
as might be culled from the black chieftain. Bwana particularly
charged his head man with the duty of questioning Kovudoo relative
to the strange character whom the girl called Korak, and of
searching for the ape-man if he found the slightest evidence upon
which to ground a belief in the existence of such an individual.
Bwana was more than fully convinced that Korak was a creature of
the girl's disordered imagination. He believed that the terrors
and hardships she had undergone during captivity among the blacks
and her frightful experience with the two Swedes had unbalanced
her mind but as the days passed and he became better acquainted
with her and able to observe her under the ordinary conditions of
the quiet of his African home he was forced to admit that her
strange tale puzzled him not a little, for there was no other
evidence whatever that Meriem was not in full possession of her
normal faculties.

The white man's wife, whom Meriem had christened "My Dear"
from having first heard her thus addressed by Bwana, took not
only a deep interest in the little jungle waif because of her
forlorn and friendless state, but grew to love her as well for her
sunny disposition and natural charm of temperament. And Meriem,
similarly impressed by little attributes in the gentle, cultured
woman, reciprocated the other's regard and affection.

And so the days flew by while Meriem waited the return of the
head man and his party from the country of Kovudoo. They were
short days, for into them were crowded many hours of insidious
instruction of the unlettered child by the lonely woman.
She commenced at once to teach the girl English without forcing
it upon her as a task. She varied the instruction with lessons
in sewing and deportment, nor once did she let Meriem guess that
it was not all play. Nor was this difficult, since the girl was
avid to learn. Then there were pretty dresses to be made to take
the place of the single leopard skin and in this she found the child
as responsive and enthusiastic as any civilized miss of her acquaintance.

A month passed before the head man returned--a month that
had transformed the savage, half-naked little tarmangani into a
daintily frocked girl of at least outward civilization. Meriem had
progressed rapidly with the intricacies of the English language,
for Bwana and My Dear had persistently refused to speak Arabic
from the time they had decided that Meriem must learn English,
which had been a day or two after her introduction into their home.

The report of the head man plunged Meriem into a period of
despondency, for he had found the village of Kovudoo deserted
nor, search as he would, could he discover a single native
anywhere in the vicinity. For some time he had camped near the
village, spending the days in a systematic search of the environs
for traces of Meriem's Korak; but in this quest, too, had he failed.
He had seen neither apes nor ape-man. Meriem at first insisted
upon setting forth herself in search of Korak, but Bwana prevailed
upon her to wait. He would go himself, he assured her, as soon as
he could find the time, and at last Meriem consented to abide by
his wishes; but it was months before she ceased to mourn almost
hourly for her Korak.

My Dear grieved with the grieving girl and did her best to
comfort and cheer her. She told her that if Korak lived he would
find her; but all the time she believed that Korak had never
existed beyond the child's dreams. She planned amusements to
distract Meriem's attention from her sorrow, and she instituted
a well-designed campaign to impress upon the child the desirability
of civilized life and customs. Nor was this difficult, as she was
soon to learn, for it rapidly became evident that beneath the uncouth
savagery of the girl was a bed rock of innate refinement--a nicety
of taste and predilection that quite equaled that of her instructor.

My Dear was delighted. She was lonely and childless, and so
she lavished upon this little stranger all the mother love that
would have gone to her own had she had one. The result was
that by the end of the first year none might have guessed that
Meriem ever had existed beyond the lap of culture and luxury.

She was sixteen now, though she easily might have passed for
nineteen, and she was very good to look upon, with her black
hair and her tanned skin and all the freshness and purity of health
and innocence. Yet she still nursed her secret sorrow, though
she no longer mentioned it to My Dear. Scarce an hour passed
that did not bring its recollection of Korak, and its poignant
yearning to see him again.

Meriem spoke English fluently now, and read and wrote it as well.
One day My Dear spoke jokingly to her in French and to her
surprise Meriem replied in the same tongue--slowly, it is true,
and haltingly; but none the less in excellent French, such,
though, as a little child might use. Thereafter they spoke a
little French each day, and My Dear often marveled that the
girl learned this language with a facility that was at times
almost uncanny. At first Meriem had puckered her narrow, arched,
little eye brows as though trying to force recollection of
something all but forgotten which the new words suggested, and then,
to her own astonishment as well as to that of her teacher she had
used other French words than those in the lessons--used them
properly and with a pronunciation that the English woman knew
was more perfect than her own; but Meriem could neither read
nor write what she spoke so well, and as My Dear considered a
knowledge of correct English of the first importance,
other than conversational French was postponed for a later day.

"You doubtless heard French spoken at times in your father's douar,"
suggested My Dear, as the most reasonable explanation.

Meriem shook her head.

"It may be," she said, "but I do not recall ever having seen
a Frenchman in my father's company--he hated them and would
have nothing whatever to do with them, and I am quite sure that
I never heard any of these words before, yet at the same time I
find them all familiar. I cannot understand it."

"Neither can I," agreed My Dear.

It was about this time that a runner brought a letter that,
when she learned the contents, filled Meriem with excitement.
Visitors were coming! A number of English ladies and gentlemen
had accepted My Dear's invitation to spend a month of hunting
and exploring with them. Meriem was all expectancy. What would
these strangers be like? Would they be as nice to her as had
Bwana and My Dear, or would they be like the other white folk
she had known--cruel and relentless. My Dear assured her that
they all were gentle folk and that she would find them kind,
considerate and honorable.

To My Dear's surprise there was none of the shyness of the
wild creature in Meriem's anticipation of the visit of strangers.

She looked forward to their coming with curiosity and with a
certain pleasurable anticipation when once she was assured that
they would not bite her. In fact she appeared no different than
would any pretty young miss who had learned of the expected
coming of company.

Korak's image was still often in her thoughts, but it aroused
now a less well-defined sense of bereavement. A quiet sadness
pervaded Meriem when she thought of him; but the poignant
grief of her loss when it was young no longer goaded her
to desperation. Yet she was still loyal to him. She still hoped
that some day he would find her, nor did she doubt for a moment
but that he was searching for her if he still lived. It was this
last suggestion that caused her the greatest perturbation.
Korak might be dead. It scarce seemed possible that one so
well-equipped to meet the emergencies of jungle life should have
succumbed so young; yet when she had last seen him he had been
beset by a horde of armed warriors, and should he have returned
to the village again, as she well knew he must have, he may have
been killed. Even her Korak could not, single handed, slay an
entire tribe.

At last the visitors arrived. There were three men and two
women--the wives of the two older men. The youngest member
of the party was Hon. Morison Baynes, a young man of considerable
wealth who, having exhausted all the possibilities for pleasure
offered by the capitals of Europe, had gladly seized upon this
opportunity to turn to another continent for excitement
and adventure.

He looked upon all things un-European as rather more than
less impossible, still he was not at all averse to enjoying
the novelty of unaccustomed places, and making the most of
strangers indigenous thereto, however unspeakable they might
have seemed to him at home. In manner he was suave and courteous
to all--if possible a trifle more punctilious toward those
he considered of meaner clay than toward the few he mentally
admitted to equality.

Nature had favored him with a splendid physique and a handsome
face, and also with sufficient good judgment to appreciate
that while he might enjoy the contemplation of his superiority
to the masses, there was little likelihood of the masses being
equally entranced by the same cause. And so he easily maintained
the reputation of being a most democratic and likeable fellow,
and indeed he was likable. Just a shade of his egotism was
occasionally apparent--never sufficient to become a burden
to his associates. And this, briefly, was the Hon. Morison Baynes
of luxurious European civilization. What would be the Hon.
Morison Baynes of central Africa it were difficult to guess.

Meriem, at first, was shy and reserved in the presence of
the strangers. Her benefactors had seen fit to ignore mention
of her strange past, and so she passed as their ward whose
antecedents not having been mentioned were not to be inquired into.
The guests found her sweet and unassuming, laughing, vivacious and
a never exhausted storehouse of quaint and interesting jungle lore.

She had ridden much during her year with Bwana and My Dear.
She knew each favorite clump of concealing reeds along the river
that the buffalo loved best. She knew a dozen places where lions
laired, and every drinking hole in the drier country twenty-five
miles back from the river. With unerring precision that was almost
uncanny she could track the largest or the smallest beast to his
hiding place. But the thing that baffled them all was her instant
consciousness of the presence of carnivora that others, exerting
their faculties to the utmost, could neither see nor hear.

The Hon. Morison Baynes found Meriem a most beautiful and
charming companion. He was delighted with her from the first.
Particularly so, it is possible, because he had not thought to
find companionship of this sort upon the African estate of his
London friends. They were together a great deal as they were
the only unmarried couple in the little company. Meriem, entirely
unaccustomed to the companionship of such as Baynes, was
fascinated by him. His tales of the great, gay cities with
which he was familiar filled her with admiration and with wonder.
If the Hon. Morison always shone to advantage in these
narratives Meriem saw in that fact but a most natural consequence
to his presence upon the scene of his story--wherever Morison
might be he must be a hero; so thought the girl.

With the actual presence and companionship of the young
Englishman the image of Korak became less real. Where before
it had been an actuality to her she now realized that Korak was
but a memory. To that memory she still was loyal; but what
weight has a memory in the presence of a fascinating reality?

Meriem had never accompanied the men upon a hunt since the
arrival of the guests. She never had cared particularly for the
sport of killing. The tracking she enjoyed; but the mere killing
for the sake of killing she could not find pleasure in--little
savage that she had been, and still, to some measure, was.
When Bwana had gone forth to shoot for meat she had always been
his enthusiastic companion; but with the coming of the London
guests the hunting had deteriorated into mere killing. Slaughter the
host would not permit; yet the purpose of the hunts were for heads
and skins and not for food. So Meriem remained behind and spent
her days either with My Dear upon the shaded verandah, or riding
her favorite pony across the plains or to the forest edge.
Here she would leave him untethered while she took to the trees
for the moment's unalloyed pleasures of a return to the wild,
free existence of her earlier childhood.

Then would come again visions of Korak, and, tired at last
of leaping and swinging through the trees, she would stretch
herself comfortably upon a branch and dream. And presently,
as today, she found the features of Korak slowly dissolve and
merge into those of another, and the figure of a tanned, half-
naked tarmangani become a khaki clothed Englishman astride
a hunting pony.

And while she dreamed there came to her ears from a distance,
faintly, the terrified bleating of a kid. Meriem was
instantly alert. You or I, even had we been able to hear the
pitiful wail at so great distance, could not have interpreted it;
but to Meriem it meant a species of terror that afflicts the
ruminant when a carnivore is near and escape impossible.

It had been both a pleasure and a sport of Korak's to rob Numa
of his prey whenever possible, and Meriem too had often enjoyed
in the thrill of snatching some dainty morsel almost from the
very jaws of the king of beasts. Now, at the sound of the kid's
bleat, all the well remembered thrills recurred. Instantly she
was all excitement to play again the game of hide and seek with death.

Quickly she loosened her riding skirt and tossed it aside--it
was a heavy handicap to successful travel in the trees. Her boots
and stockings followed the skirt, for the bare sole of the human
foot does not slip upon dry or even wet bark as does the hard
leather of a boot. She would have liked to discard her riding
breeches also, but the motherly admonitions of My Dear had
convinced Meriem that it was not good form to go naked through
the world.

At her hip hung a hunting knife. Her rifle was still in its boot
at her pony's withers. Her revolver she had not brought.

The kid was still bleating as Meriem started rapidly in its
direction, which she knew was straight toward a certain water
hole which had once been famous as a rendezvous for lions.
Of late there had been no evidence of carnivora in the neighborhood
of this drinking place; but Meriem was positive that the bleating
of the kid was due to the presence of either lion or panther.

But she would soon know, for she was rapidly approaching
the terrified animal. She wondered as she hastened onward that
the sounds continued to come from the same point. Why did the
kid not run away? And then she came in sight of the little
animal and knew. The kid was tethered to a stake beside
the waterhole.

Meriem paused in the branches of a near-by tree and scanned
the surrounding clearing with quick, penetrating eyes. Where was
the hunter? Bwana and his people did not hunt thus. Who could
have tethered this poor little beast as a lure to Numa?
Bwana never countenanced such acts in his country and his word
was law among those who hunted within a radius of many miles
of his estate.

Some wandering savages, doubtless, thought Meriem; but
where were they? Not even her keen eyes could discover them.
And where was Numa? Why had he not long since sprung upon
this delicious and defenseless morsel? That he was close by was
attested by the pitiful crying of the kid. Ah! Now she saw him.
He was lying close in a clump of brush a few yards to her right.
The kid was down wind from him and getting the full benefit of
his terrorizing scent, which did not reach Meriem.

To circle to the opposite side of the clearing where the trees
approached closer to the kid. To leap quickly to the little
animal's side and cut the tether that held him would be the work
of but a moment. In that moment Numa might charge, and then
there would be scarce time to regain the safety of the trees, yet
it might be done. Meriem had escaped from closer quarters than
that many times before.

The doubt that gave her momentary pause was caused by fear
of the unseen hunters more than by fear of Numa. If they were
stranger blacks the spears that they held in readiness for Numa
might as readily be loosed upon whomever dared release their
bait as upon the prey they sought thus to trap. Again the kid
struggled to be free. Again his piteous wail touched the tender
heart strings of the girl. Tossing discretion aside, she
commenced to circle the clearing. Only from Numa did she attempt
to conceal her presence. At last she reached the opposite trees.
An instant she paused to look toward the great lion, and at the
same moment she saw the huge beast rise slowly to his full height.
A low roar betokened that he was ready.

Meriem loosened her knife and leaped to the ground. A quick
run brought her to the side of the kid. Numa saw her. He lashed
his tail against his tawny sides. He roared terribly; but, for an
instant, he remained where he stood--surprised into inaction,
doubtless, by the strange apparition that had sprung so unexpectedly
from the jungle.

Other eyes were upon Meriem, too--eyes in which were no less
surprise than that reflected in the yellow-green orbs of the carnivore.
A white man, hiding in a thorn boma, half rose as the young girl leaped
into the clearing and dashed toward the kid. He saw Numa hesitate.
He raised his rifle and covered the beast's breast. The girl reached
the kid's side. Her knife flashed, and the little prisoner was free.
With a parting bleat it dashed off into the jungle. Then the girl
turned to retreat toward the safety of the tree from which she had
dropped so suddenly and unexpectedly into the surprised view of the lion,
the kid and the man.

As she turned the girl's face was turned toward the hunter.
His eyes went wide as he saw her features. He gave a little gasp
of surprise; but now the lion demanded all his attention--the
baffled, angry beast was charging. His breast was still covered
by the motionless rifle. The man could have fired and stopped
the charge at once; but for some reason, since he had seen the
girl's face, he hesitated. Could it be that he did not care to
save her? Or, did he prefer, if possible, to remain unseen by her?
It must have been the latter cause which kept the trigger finger of
the steady hand from exerting the little pressure that would have
brought the great beast to at least a temporary pause.

Like an eagle the man watched the race for life the girl
was making. A second or two measured the time which the whole
exciting event consumed from the moment that the lion broke
into his charge. Nor once did the rifle sights fail to cover the
broad breast of the tawny sire as the lion's course took him a
little to the man's left. Once, at the very last moment, when
escape seemed impossible, the hunter's finger tightened ever so
little upon the trigger, but almost coincidentally the girl leaped
for an over hanging branch and seized it. The lion leaped too;
but the nimble Meriem had swung herself beyond his reach
without a second or an inch to spare.

The man breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered his rifle.
He saw the girl fling a grimace at the angry, roaring, maneater
beneath her, and then, laughing, speed away into the forest.
For an hour the lion remained about the water hole. A hundred times
could the hunter have bagged his prey. Why did he fail to do so?
Was he afraid that the shot might attract the girl and cause her
to return?

At last Numa, still roaring angrily, strode majestically into
the jungle. The hunter crawled from his boma, and half
an hour later was entering a little camp snugly hidden in
the forest. A handful of black followers greeted his return
with sullen indifference. He was a great bearded man, a huge,
yellow-bearded giant, when he entered his tent. Half an hour
later he emerged smooth shaven.

His blacks looked at him in astonishment.

"Would you know me?" he asked.

"The hyena that bore you would not know you, Bwana," replied one.

The man aimed a heavy fist at the black's face; but long
experience in dodging similar blows saved the presumptuous one.