Chapter 18

Son of Tarzan

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER 18, SON OF TARZAN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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Meriem and Bwana were sitting on the verandah together the
following day when a horseman appeared in the distance riding
across the plain toward the bungalow. Bwana shaded his eyes
with his hand and gazed out toward the oncoming rider.
He was puzzled. Strangers were few in Central Africa. Even the
blacks for a distance of many miles in every direction were well
known to him. No white man came within a hundred miles that
word of his coming did not reach Bwana long before the stranger.
His every move was reported to the big Bwana--just what animals
he killed and how many of each species, how he killed them,
too, for Bwana would not permit the use of prussic acid or
strychnine; and how he treated his "boys."

Several European sportsmen had been turned back to the coast
by the big Englishman's orders because of unwarranted cruelty
to their black followers, and one, whose name had long been
heralded in civilized communities as that of a great sportsman,
was driven from Africa with orders never to return when Bwana
found that his big bag of fourteen lions had been made by the
diligent use of poisoned bait.

The result was that all good sportsmen and all the natives
loved and respected him. His word was law where there had
never been law before. There was scarce a head man from coast
to coast who would not heed the big Bwana's commands in
preference to those of the hunters who employed them, and so
it was easy to turn back any undesirable stranger--Bwana had
simply to threaten to order his boys to desert him.

But there was evidently one who had slipped into the
country unheralded. Bwana could not imagine who the approaching
horseman might be. After the manner of frontier hospitality the
globe round he met the newcomer at the gate, welcoming him
even before he had dismounted. He saw a tall, well knit man of
thirty or over, blonde of hair and smooth shaven. There was a
tantalizing familiarity about him that convinced Bwana that he
should be able to call the visitor by name, yet he was unable to
do so. The newcomer was evidently of Scandinavian origin--
both his appearance and accent denoted that. His manner was
rough but open. He made a good impression upon the Englishman,
who was wont to accept strangers in this wild and savage country
at their own valuation, asking no questions and assuming the best
of them until they proved themselves undeserving of his friendship
and hospitality.

"It is rather unusual that a white man comes unheralded,"
he said, as they walked together toward the field into which he
had suggested that the traveler might turn his pony. "My friends,
the natives, keep us rather well-posted."

"It is probably due to the fact that I came from the south,"
explained the stranger, "that you did not hear of my coming.
I have seen no village for several marches."

"No, there are none to the south of us for many miles,"
replied Bwana. "Since Kovudoo deserted his country I rather
doubt that one could find a native in that direction under two
or three hundred miles."

Bwana was wondering how a lone white man could have made
his way through the savage, unhospitable miles that lay toward
the south. As though guessing what must be passing through the
other's mind, the stranger vouchsafed an explanation.

"I came down from the north to do a little trading and hunting,"
he said, "and got way off the beaten track. My head man,
who was the only member of the safari who had ever before
been in the country, took sick and died. We could find no natives
to guide us, and so I simply swung back straight north. We have
been living on the fruits of our guns for over a month. Didn't have
an idea there was a white man within a thousand miles of us when
we camped last night by a water hole at the edge of the plain.
This morning I started out to hunt and saw the smoke from your
chimney, so I sent my gun bearer back to camp with the good news
and rode straight over here myself. Of course I've heard of
you--everybody who comes into Central Africa does--and I'd be
mighty glad of permission to rest up and hunt around here for
a couple of weeks."

"Certainly," replied Bwana. "Move your camp up close to
the river below my boys' camp and make yourself at home."

They had reached the verandah now and Bwana was introducing
the stranger to Meriem and My Dear, who had just come from
the bungalow's interior.

"This is Mr. Hanson," he said, using the name the man had
given him. "He is a trader who has lost his way in the jungle
to the south."

My Dear and Meriem bowed their acknowledgments of the introduction.
The man seemed rather ill at ease in their presence. His host
attributed this to the fact that his guest was unaccustomed to
the society of cultured women, and so found a pretext to quickly
extricate him from his seemingly unpleasant position and lead him
away to his study and the brandy and soda which were evidently
much less embarrassing to Mr. Hanson.

When the two had left them Meriem turned toward My Dear.

"It is odd," she said, "but I could almost swear that I had
known Mr. Hanson in the past. It is odd, but quite impossible,"
and she gave the matter no further thought.

Hanson did not accept Bwana's invitation to move his camp
closer to the bungalow. He said his boys were inclined to be
quarrelsome, and so were better off at a distance; and he,
himself, was around but little, and then always avoided coming
into contact with the ladies. A fact which naturally aroused only
laughing comment on the rough trader's bashfulness. He accompanied
the men on several hunting trips where they found him perfectly
at home and well versed in all the finer points of big game hunting.
Of an evening he often spent much time with the white foreman of
the big farm, evidently finding in the society of this rougher
man more common interests than the cultured guests of Bwana
possessed for him. So it came that his was a familiar figure
about the premises by night. He came and went as he saw fit,
often wandering along in the great flower garden that was the
especial pride and joy of My Dear and Meriem. The first time
that he had been surprised there he apologized gruffly, explaining
that he had always been fond of the good old blooms of northern
Europe which My Dear had so successfully transplanted in African soil.

Was it, though, the ever beautiful blossoms of hollyhocks and
phlox that drew him to the perfumed air of the garden, or that
other infinitely more beautiful flower who wandered often among
the blooms beneath the great moon--the black-haired, suntanned Meriem?

For three weeks Hanson had remained. During this time he said
that his boys were resting and gaining strength after their
terrible ordeals in the untracked jungle to the south; but he had
not been as idle as he appeared to have been. He divided his
small following into two parties, entrusting the leadership of
each to men whom he believed that he could trust. To them he
explained his plans and the rich reward that they would win
from him if they carried his designs to a successful conclusion.
One party he moved very slowly northward along the trail that
connects with the great caravan routes entering the Sahara from
the south. The other he ordered straight westward with orders to
halt and go into permanent camp just beyond the great river
which marks the natural boundary of the country that the big
Bwana rightfully considers almost his own.

To his host he explained that he was moving his safari slowly
toward the north--he said nothing of the party moving westward.
Then, one day, he announced that half his boys had deserted, for
a hunting party from the bungalow had come across his northerly
camp and he feared that they might have noticed the reduced numbers
of his following.

And thus matters stood when, one hot night, Meriem, unable
to sleep, rose and wandered out into the garden. The Hon.
Morison had been urging his suit once more that evening, and the
girl's mind was in such a turmoil that she had been unable to sleep.

The wide heavens about her seemed to promise a greater freedom
from doubt and questioning. Baynes had urged her to tell
him that she loved him. A dozen times she thought that she
might honestly give him the answer that he demanded. Korak fast
was becoming but a memory. That he was dead she had come to
believe, since otherwise he would have sought her out. She did
not know that he had even better reason to believe her dead,
and that it was because of that belief he had made no effort
to find her after his raid upon the village of Kovudoo.

Behind a great flowering shrub Hanson lay gazing at the stars
and waiting. He had lain thus and there many nights before.
For what was he waiting, or for whom? He heard the girl
approaching, and half raised himself to his elbow. A dozen
paces away, the reins looped over a fence post, stood his pony.

Meriem, walking slowly, approached the bush behind which the
waiter lay. Hanson drew a large bandanna handkerchief from
his pocket and rose stealthily to his knees. A pony neighed
down at the corrals. Far out across the plain a lion roared.
Hanson changed his position until he squatted upon both feet,
ready to come erect quickly.

Again the pony neighed--this time closer. There was the
sound of his body brushing against shrubbery. Hanson heard
and wondered how the animal had gotten from the corral, for it
was evident that he was already in the garden. The man turned
his head in the direction of the beast. What he saw sent him to
the ground, huddled close beneath the shrubbery--a man was
coming, leading two ponies.

Meriem heard now and stopped to look and listen. A moment
later the Hon. Morison Baynes drew near, the two saddled
mounts at his heels.

Meriem looked up at him in surprise. The Hon. Morison
grinned sheepishly.

"I couldn't sleep," he explained, "and was going for a bit of
a ride when I chanced to see you out here, and I thought you'd
like to join me. Ripping good sport, you know, night riding.
Come on."

Meriem laughed. The adventure appealed to her.

"All right," she said.

Hanson swore beneath his breath. The two led their horses
from the garden to the gate and through it. There they
discovered Hanson's mount.

"Why here's the trader's pony," remarked Baynes.

"He's probably down visiting with the foreman," said Meriem.

"Pretty late for him, isn't it?" remarked the Hon. Morison.
"I'd hate to have to ride back through that jungle at night
to his camp."

As though to give weight to his apprehensions the distant lion
roared again. The Hon. Morison shivered and glanced at the
girl to note the effect of the uncanny sound upon her.
She appeared not to have noticed it.

A moment later the two had mounted and were moving slowly
across the moon-bathed plain. The girl turned her pony's head
straight toward the jungle. It was in the direction of the roaring
of the hungry lion.

"Hadn't we better steer clear of that fellow?" suggested the
Hon. Morison. "I guess you didn't hear him."

"Yes, I heard him," laughed Meriem. "Let's ride over and
call on him."

The Hon. Morison laughed uneasily. He didn't care to appear
at a disadvantage before this girl, nor did he care, either, to
approach a hungry lion too closely at night. He carried his rifle
in his saddle boot; but moonlight is an uncertain light to shoot
by, nor ever had he faced a lion alone--even by day. The thought
gave him a distinct nausea. The beast ceased his roaring now.
They heard him no more and the Hon. Morison gained courage accordingly.
They were riding down wind toward the jungle. The lion lay in a
little swale to their right. He was old. For two nights he had
not fed, for no longer was his charge as swift or his spring as
mighty as in the days of his prime when he spread terror among
the creatures of his wild domain. For two nights and days he had
gone empty, and for long time before that he had fed only
upon carrion. He was old; but he was yet a terrible engine
of destruction.

At the edge of the forest the Hon. Morison drew rein. He had
no desire to go further. Numa, silent upon his padded feet, crept
into the jungle beyond them. The wind, now, was blowing gently
between him and his intended prey. He had come a long way in
search of man, for even in his youth he had tasted human flesh
and while it was poor stuff by comparison with eland and zebra
it was less difficult to kill. In Numa's estimation man was a
slow-witted, slow-footed creature which commanded no respect
unless accompanied by the acrid odor which spelled to the
monarch's sensitive nostrils the great noise and the blinding flash
of an express rifle.

He caught the dangerous scent tonight; but he was ravenous
to madness. He would face a dozen rifles, if necessary, to fill
his empty belly. He circled about into the forest that he might
again be down wind from his victims, for should they get his
scent he could not hope to overtake them. Numa was famished;
but he was old and crafty.

Deep in the jungle another caught faintly the scent of man
and of Numa both. He raised his head and sniffed. He cocked
it upon one side and listened.

"Come on," said Meriem, "let's ride in a way--the forest is
wonderful at night. It is open enough to permit us to ride."

The Hon. Morison hesitated. He shrank from revealing his
fear in the presence of the girl. A braver man, sure of his own
position, would have had the courage to have refused uselessly
to expose the girl to danger. He would not have thought of himself
at all; but the egotism of the Hon. Morison required that he
think always of self first. He had planned the ride to get Meriem
away from the bungalow. He wanted to talk to her alone and far
enough away so should she take offense at his purposed suggestion
he would have time in which to attempt to right himself in her
eyes before they reached home. He had little doubt, of course,
but that he should succeed; but it is to his credit that he did
have some slight doubts.

"You needn't be afraid of the lion," said Meriem, noting his
slight hesitancy. "There hasn't been a man eater around here
for two years, Bwana says, and the game is so plentiful that
there is no necessity to drive Numa to human flesh. Then, he
has been so often hunted that he rather keeps out of man's way."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of lions," replied the Hon. Morison. "I was
just thinking what a beastly uncomfortable place a forest is
to ride in. What with the underbrush and the low branches and
all that, you know, it's not exactly cut out for pleasure riding."

"Let's go a-foot then," suggested Meriem, and started to dismount.

"Oh, no," cried the Hon. Morison, aghast at this suggestion.
"Let's ride," and he reined his pony into the dark shadows of
the wood. Behind him came Meriem and in front, prowling
ahead waiting a favorable opportunity, skulked Numa, the lion.

Out upon the plain a lone horseman muttered a low curse as
he saw the two disappear from sight. It was Hanson. He had
followed them from the bungalow. Their way led in the direction
of his camp, so he had a ready and plausible excuse should they
discover him; but they had not seen him for they had not turned
their eyes behind.

Now he turned directly toward the spot at which they had
entered the jungle. He no longer cared whether he was observed
or not. There were two reasons for his indifference. The first
was that he saw in Baynes' act a counterpart of his own
planned abduction of the girl. In some way he might turn the
thing to his own purposes. At least he would keep in touch with
them and make sure that Baynes did not get her. His other reason
was based on his knowledge of an event that had transpired at
his camp the previous night--an event which he had not mentioned
at the bungalow for fear of drawing undesired attention to his
movements and bringing the blacks of the big Bwana into dangerous
intercourse with his own boys. He had told at the bungalow that
half his men had deserted. That story might be quickly disproved
should his boys and Bwana's grow confidential.

The event that he had failed to mention and which now urged
him hurriedly after the girl and her escort had occurred during
his absence early the preceding evening. His men had been sitting
around their camp fire, entirely encircled by a high, thorn boma,
when, without the slightest warning, a huge lion had leaped
amongst them and seized one of their number. It had been solely
due to the loyalty and courage of his comrades that his life
had been saved, and then only after a battle royal with the
hunger-enraged beast had they been able to drive him off
with burning brands, spears, and rifles.

From this Hanson knew that a man eater had wandered into
the district or been developed by the aging of one of the many
lions who ranged the plains and hills by night, or lay up in the
cool wood by day. He had heard the roaring of a hungry lion
not half an hour before, and there was little doubt in his mind
but that the man eater was stalking Meriem and Baynes. He cursed
the Englishman for a fool, and spurred rapidly after them.

Meriem and Baynes had drawn up in a small, natural clearing.
A hundred yards beyond them Numa lay crouching in the underbrush,
his yellow-green eyes fixed upon his prey, the tip of his sinuous
tail jerking spasmodically. He was measuring the distance
between him and them. He was wondering if he dared venture
a charge, or should he wait yet a little longer in the hope
that they might ride straight into his jaws. He was very hungry;
but also was he very crafty. He could not chance losing his meat
by a hasty and ill-considered rush. Had he waited the night
before until the blacks slept he would not have been forced to
go hungry for another twenty-four hours.

Behind him the other that had caught his scent and that of
man together came to a sitting posture upon the branch of a
tree in which he had reposed himself for slumber. Beneath him
a lumbering gray hulk swayed to and fro in the darkness.
The beast in the tree uttered a low guttural and dropped to the
back of the gray mass. He whispered a word in one of the great
ears and Tantor, the elephant, raised his trunk aloft, swinging
it high and low to catch the scent that the word had warned him of.
There was another whispered word--was it a command?--and the
lumbering beast wheeled into an awkward, yet silent shuffle,
in the direction of Numa, the lion, and the stranger Tarmangani
his rider had scented.

Onward they went, the scent of the lion and his prey becoming
stronger and stronger. Numa was becoming impatient. How much
longer must he wait for his meat to come his way? He lashed his
tail viciously now. He almost growled. All unconscious of their
danger the man and the girl sat talking in the little clearing.

Their horses were pressed side by side. Baynes had found
Meriem's hand and was pressing it as he poured words of love
into her ear, and Meriem was listening.

"Come to London with me," urged the Hon. Morison. "I can
gather a safari and we can be a whole day upon the way
to the coast before they guess that we have gone."

"Why must we go that way?" asked the girl. "Bwana and
My Dear would not object to our marriage."

"I cannot marry you just yet," explained the Hon. Morison,
"there are some formalities to be attended to first--you do
not understand. It will be all right. We will go to London.
I cannot wait. If you love me you will come. What of the apes
you lived with? Did they bother about marriage? They love as
we love. Had you stayed among them you would have mated as
they mate. It is the law of nature--no man-made law can
abrogate the laws of God. What difference does it make if we
love one another? What do we care for anyone in the world besides
ourselves? I would give my life for you--will you give nothing
for me?"

"You love me?" she said. "You will marry me when we have
reached London?"

"I swear it," he cried.

"I will go with you," she whispered, "though I do not understand
why it is necessary." She leaned toward him and he took her in
his arms and bent to press his lips to hers.

At the same instant the head of a huge tusker poked through
the trees that fringed the clearing. The Hon. Morison and Meriem,
with eyes and ears for one another alone, did not see or hear;
but Numa did. The man upon Tantor's broad head saw the
girl in the man's arms. It was Korak; but in the trim figure of
the neatly garbed girl he did not recognize his Meriem. He only
saw a Tarmangani with his she. And then Numa charged.

With a frightful roar, fearful lest Tantor had come to frighten
away his prey, the great beast leaped from his hiding place.
The earth trembled to his mighty voice. The ponies stood for
an instant transfixed with terror. The Hon. Morison Baynes went
white and cold. The lion was charging toward them full in the
brilliant light of the magnificent moon. The muscles of the Hon.
Morison no longer obeyed his will--they flexed to the urge of a
greater power--the power of Nature's first law. They drove his
spurred heels deep into his pony's flanks, they bore the rein
against the brute's neck that wheeled him with an impetuous
drive toward the plain and safety.

The girl's pony, squealing in terror, reared and plunged upon
the heels of his mate. The lion was close upon him. Only the
girl was cool--the girl and the half-naked savage who bestrode
the neck of his mighty mount and grinned at the exciting spectacle
chance had staked for his enjoyment.

To Korak here were but two strange Tarmangani pursued by Numa,
who was empty. It was Numa's right to prey; but one was a she.
Korak felt an intuitive urge to rush to her protection.
Why, he could not guess. All Tarmangani were enemies now.
He had lived too long a beast to feel strongly the humanitarian
impulses that were inherent in him--yet feel them he did, for
the girl at least.

He urged Tantor forward. He raised his heavy spear and hurled
it at the flying target of the lion's body. The girl's pony
had reached the trees upon the opposite side of the clearing.
Here he would become easy prey to the swiftly moving lion; but
Numa, infuriated, preferred the woman upon his back. It was
for her he leaped.

Korak gave an exclamation of astonishment and approval as
Numa landed upon the pony's rump and at the same instant the
girl swung free of her mount to the branches of a tree above her.

Korak's spear struck Numa in the shoulder, knocking him
from his precarious hold upon the frantically plunging horse.
Freed of the weight of both girl and lion the pony raced ahead
toward safety. Numa tore and struck at the missile in his
shoulder but could not dislodge it. Then he resumed the chase.

Korak guided Tantor into the seclusion of the jungle. He did
not wish to be seen, nor had he.

Hanson had almost reached the wood when he heard the lion's
terrific roars, and knew that the charge had come. An instant
later the Hon. Morison broke upon his vision, racing like mad
for safety. The man lay flat upon his pony's back hugging the
animal's neck tightly with both arms and digging the spurs into
his sides. An instant later the second pony appeared--riderless.

Hanson groaned as he guessed what had happened out of sight in
the jungle. With an oath he spurred on in the hope of driving
the lion from his prey--his rifle was ready in his hand. And then
the lion came into view behind the girl's pony. Hanson could
not understand. He knew that if Numa had succeeded in seizing
the girl he would not have continued in pursuit of the others.

He drew in his own mount, took quick aim and fired. The lion
stopped in his tracks, turned and bit at his side, then rolled
over dead. Hanson rode on into the forest, calling aloud to
the girl.

"Here I am," came a quick response from the foliage of the
trees just ahead. "Did you hit him?"

"Yes," replied Hanson. "Where are you? You had a mighty
narrow escape. It will teach you to keep out of the jungle
at night."

Together they returned to the plain where they found the Hon.
Morison riding slowly back toward them. He explained that his
pony had bolted and that he had had hard work stopping him at all.
Hanson grinned, for he recalled the pounding heels that he
had seen driving sharp spurs into the flanks of Baynes' mount;
but he said nothing of what he had seen. He took Meriem up
behind him and the three rode in silence toward the bungalow.