Chapter 20

Son of Tarzan

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER 20, SON OF TARZAN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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It was still dark when the Hon. Morison Baynes set forth for
the trysting place. He insisted upon having a guide, saying
that he was not sure that he could find his way back to the
little clearing. As a matter of fact the thought of that lonely
ride through the darkness before the sun rose had been too much
for his courage, and he craved company. A black, therefore,
preceded him on foot. Behind and above him came Korak, whom
the noise in the camp had awakened.

It was nine o'clock before Baynes drew rein in the clearing.
Meriem had not yet arrived. The black lay down to rest.
Baynes lolled in his saddle. Korak stretched himself comfortably
upon a lofty limb, where he could watch those beneath him without
being seen.

An hour passed. Baynes gave evidence of nervousness. Korak had
already guessed that the young Englishman had come here to meet
another, nor was he at all in doubt as to the identity of
that other. The Killer was perfectly satisfied that he was soon
again to see the nimble she who had so forcefully reminded him
of Meriem.

Presently the sound of an approaching horse came to Korak's ears.
She was coming! She had almost reached the clearing before
Baynes became aware of her presence, and then as he looked up,
the foliage parted to the head and shoulders of her mount and
Meriem rode into view. Baynes spurred to meet her. Korak looked
searchingly down upon her, mentally anathematizing the broad-brimmed
hat that hid her features from his eyes. She was abreast the
Englishman now. Korak saw the man take both her hands and draw
her close to his breast. He saw the man's face concealed for a
moment beneath the same broad brim that hid the girl's. He could
imagine their lips meeting, and a twinge of sorrow and sweet
recollection combined to close his eyes for an instant in that
involuntary muscular act with which we attempt to shut out from
the mind's eye harrowing reflections.

When he looked again they had drawn apart and were
conversing earnestly. Korak could see the man urging something.
It was equally evident that the girl was holding back. There were
many of her gestures, and the way in which she tossed her head
up and to the right, tip-tilting her chin, that reminded Korak
still more strongly of Meriem. And then the conversation was
over and the man took the girl in his arms again to kiss her
good-bye. She turned and rode toward the point from which she
had come. The man sat on his horse watching her. At the edge of
the jungle she turned to wave him a final farewell.

"Tonight!" she cried, throwing back her head as she called
the words to him across the little distance which separated
them--throwing back her head and revealing her face for the
first time to the eyes of The Killer in the tree above.
Korak started as though pierced through the heart with an arrow.
He trembled and shook like a leaf. He closed his eyes, pressing
his palms across them, and then he opened them again and looked
but the girl was gone--only the waving foliage of the jungle's
rim marked where she had disappeared. It was impossible! It could
not be true! And yet, with his own eyes he had seen his Meriem--
older a little, with figure more rounded by nearer maturity, and
subtly changed in other ways; more beautiful than ever, yet still
his little Meriem. Yes, he had seen the dead alive again;
he had seen his Meriem in the flesh. She lived! She had not died!
He had seen her--he had seen his Meriem--IN THE ARMS OF ANOTHER MAN!
And that man sat below him now, within easy reach. Korak, The Killer,
fondled his heavy spear. He played with the grass rope dangling
from his gee-string. He stroked the hunting knife at his hip.
And the man beneath him called to his drowsy guide,
bent the rein to his pony's neck and moved off toward the north.
Still sat Korak, The Killer, alone among the trees.
Now his hands hung idly at his sides. His weapons
and what he had intended were forgotten for the moment.
Korak was thinking. He had noted that subtle change in Meriem.
When last he had seen her she had been his little, half-naked
Mangani--wild, savage, and uncouth. She had not seemed uncouth
to him then; but now, in the change that had come over her,
he knew that such she had been; yet no more uncouth than he,
and he was still uncouth.

In her had taken place the change. In her he had just seen a
sweet and lovely flower of refinement and civilization, and he
shuddered as he recalled the fate that he himself had planned for
her--to be the mate of an ape-man, his mate, in the savage jungle.
Then he had seen no wrong in it, for he had loved her, and the
way he had planned had been the way of the jungle which they two
had chosen as their home; but now, after having seen the Meriem
of civilized attire, he realized the hideousness of his once
cherished plan, and he thanked God that chance and the blacks of
Kovudoo had thwarted him.

Yet he still loved her, and jealousy seared his soul as
he recalled the sight of her in the arms of the dapper
young Englishman. What were his intentions toward her?
Did he really love her? How could one not love her? And she
loved him, of that Korak had had ample proof. Had she not
loved him she would not have accepted his kisses. His Meriem
loved another! For a long time he let that awful truth sink deep,
and from it he tried to reason out his future plan of action.
In his heart was a great desire to follow the man and slay him;
but ever there rose in his consciousness the thought: She loves him.
Could he slay the creature Meriem loved? Sadly he shook his head.
No, he could not. Then came a partial decision to follow Meriem
and speak with her. He half started, and then glanced down at his
nakedness and was ashamed. He, the son of a British peer, had thus
thrown away his life, had thus degraded himself to the level of
a beast that he was ashamed to go to the woman he loved and
lay his love at her feet. He was ashamed to go to the little Arab
maid who had been his jungle playmate, for what had he to offer her?

For years circumstances had prevented a return to his father
and mother, and at last pride had stepped in and expunged from
his mind the last vestige of any intention to return. In a
spirit of boyish adventure he had cast his lot with the jungle ape.
The killing of the crook in the coast inn had filled his childish
mind with terror of the law, and driven him deeper into the wilds.
The rebuffs that he had met at the hands of men, both black and
white, had had their effect upon his mind while yet it was in a
formative state, and easily influenced.

He had come to believe that the hand of man was against him,
and then he had found in Meriem the only human association
he required or craved. When she had been snatched from him
his sorrow had been so deep that the thought of ever mingling
again with human beings grew still more unutterably distasteful.
Finally and for all time, he thought, the die was cast. Of his
own volition he had become a beast, a beast he had lived, a
beast he would die.

Now that it was too late, he regretted it. For now Meriem,
still living, had been revealed to him in a guise of progress and
advancement that had carried her completely out of his life.
Death itself could not have further removed her from him.
In her new world she loved a man of her own kind. And Korak
knew that it was right. She was not for him--not for the naked,
savage ape. No, she was not for him; but he still was hers. If he
could not have her and happiness, he would at least do all that
lay in his power to assure happiness to her. He would follow the
young Englishman. In the first place he would know that he
meant Meriem no harm, and after that, though jealously
wrenched his heart, he would watch over the man Meriem loved, for
Meriem's sake; but God help that man if he thought to wrong her!

Slowly he aroused himself. He stood erect and stretched his
great frame, the muscles of his arms gliding sinuously beneath
his tanned skin as he bent his clenched fists behind his head.
A movement on the ground beneath caught his eye. An antelope
was entering the clearing. Immediately Korak became aware
that he was empty--again he was a beast. For a moment love
had lifted him to sublime heights of honor and renunciation.

The antelope was crossing the clearing. Korak dropped to the
ground upon the opposite side of the tree, and so lightly that not
even the sensitive ears of the antelope apprehended his presence.
He uncoiled his grass rope--it was the latest addition to his
armament, yet he was proficient with it. Often he traveled with
nothing more than his knife and his rope--they were light and easy
to carry. His spear and bow and arrows were cumbersome and he
usually kept one or all of them hidden away in a private cache.

Now he held a single coil of the long rope in his right hand,
and the balance in his left. The antelope was but a few paces
from him. Silently Korak leaped from his hiding place swinging
the rope free from the entangling shrubbery. The antelope sprang
away almost instantly; but instantly, too, the coiled rope, with
its sliding noose, flew through the air above him. With unerring
precision it settled about the creature's neck. There was a quick
wrist movement of the thrower, the noose tightened. The Killer
braced himself with the rope across his hip, and as the antelope
tautened the singing strands in a last frantic bound for liberty
he was thrown over upon his back.

Then, instead of approaching the fallen animal as a roper of the
western plains might do, Korak dragged his captive to himself,
pulling him in hand over hand, and when he was within reach
leaping upon him even as Sheeta the panther might have done,
and burying his teeth in the animal's neck while he found its
heart with the point of his hunting knife. Recoiling his rope,
he cut a few generous strips from his kill and took to the trees
again, where he ate in peace. Later he swung off in the direction
of a nearby water hole, and then he slept.

In his mind, of course, was the suggestion of another meeting
between Meriem and the young Englishman that had been borne
to him by the girl's parting: "Tonight!"

He had not followed Meriem because he knew from the direction
from which she had come and in which she returned that
wheresoever she had found an asylum it lay out across the plains
and not wishing to be discovered by the girl he had not cared to
venture into the open after her. It would do as well to keep in
touch with the young man, and that was precisely what he intended doing.

To you or me the possibility of locating the Hon. Morison in
the jungle after having permitted him to get such a considerable
start might have seemed remote; but to Korak it was not at all so.
He guessed that the white man would return to his camp;
but should he have done otherwise it would be a simple matter
to The Killer to trail a mounted man accompanied by another
on foot. Days might pass and still such a spoor would be
sufficiently plain to lead Korak unfalteringly to its end;
while a matter of a few hours only left it as clear to him as
though the makers themselves were still in plain sight.

And so it came that a few minutes after the Hon. Morison
Baynes entered the camp to be greeted by Hanson, Korak slipped
noiselessly into a near-by tree. There he lay until late afternoon
and still the young Englishman made no move to leave camp.
Korak wondered if Meriem were coming there. A little later
Hanson and one of his black boys rode out of camp. Korak merely
noted the fact. He was not particularly interested in what
any other member of the company than the young Englishman did.

Darkness came and still the young man remained. He ate his evening
meal, afterward smoking numerous cigarettes. Presently he began
to pace back and forth before his tent. He kept his boy busy
replenishing the fire. A lion coughed and he went into his tent
to reappear with an express rifle. Again he admonished the boy to
throw more brush upon the fire. Korak saw that he was nervous
and afraid, and his lip curled in a sneer of contempt.

Was this the creature who had supplanted him in the heart of
his Meriem? Was this a man, who trembled when Numa coughed?
How could such as he protect Meriem from the countless dangers
of the jungle? Ah, but he would not have to. They would live
in the safety of European civilization, where men in uniforms
were hired to protect them. What need had a European of
prowess to protect his mate? Again the sneer curled Korak's lip.

Hanson and his boy had ridden directly to the clearing. It was
already dark when they arrived. Leaving the boy there Hanson rode
to the edge of the plain, leading the boy's horse. There he waited.
It was nine o'clock before he saw a solitary figure galloping
toward him from the direction of the bungalow. A few moments
later Meriem drew in her mount beside him. She was nervous
and flushed. When she recognized Hanson she drew back, startled.

"Mr. Baynes' horse fell on him and sprained his ankle,"
Hanson hastened to explain. "He couldn't very well come so he
sent me to meet you and bring you to camp."

The girl could not see in the darkness the gloating, triumphant
expression on the speaker's face.

"We had better hurry," continued Hanson, "for we'll have
to move along pretty fast if we don't want to be overtaken."

"Is he hurt badly?" asked Meriem.

"Only a little sprain," replied Hanson. "He can ride all right;
but we both thought he'd better lie up tonight, and rest, for he'll
have plenty hard riding in the next few weeks."

"Yes," agreed the girl.

Hanson swung his pony about and Meriem followed him. They rode
north along the edge of the jungle for a mile and then turned
straight into it toward the west. Meriem, following, payed
little attention to directions. She did not know exactly where
Hanson's camp lay and so she did not guess that he was not
leading her toward it. All night they rode, straight toward
the west. When morning came, Hanson permitted a short halt for
breakfast, which he had provided in well-filled saddle bags before
leaving his camp. Then they pushed on again, nor did they
halt a second time until in the heat of the day he stopped and
motioned the girl to dismount.

"We will sleep here for a time and let the ponies graze," he said.

"I had no idea the camp was so far away," said Meriem.

"I left orders that they were to move on at day break," explained
the trader, "so that we could get a good start. I knew that you
and I could easily overtake a laden safari. It may not be
until tomorrow that we'll catch up with them."

But though they traveled part of the night and all the following
day no sign of the safari appeared ahead of them. Meriem, an
adept in jungle craft, knew that none had passed ahead of them
for many days. Occasionally she saw indications of an old spoor,
a very old spoor, of many men. For the most part they followed
this well-marked trail along elephant paths and through park-
like groves. It was an ideal trail for rapid traveling.

Meriem at last became suspicious. Gradually the attitude of the
man at her side had begun to change. Often she surprised him
devouring her with his eyes. Steadily the former sensation of
previous acquaintanceship urged itself upon her. Somewhere, sometime
before she had known this man. It was evident that he had not
shaved for several days. A blonde stubble had commenced to cover
his neck and cheeks and chin, and with it the assurance that he was
no stranger continued to grow upon the girl.

It was not until the second day, however, that Meriem rebelled.
She drew in her pony at last and voiced her doubts. Hanson assured
her that the camp was but a few miles further on.

"We should have overtaken them yesterday," he said. "They must
have marched much faster than I had believed possible."

"They have not marched here at all," said Meriem. "The spoor
that we have been following is weeks old."

Hanson laughed.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" he cried. "Why didn't you say so before?
I could have easily explained. We are not coming by the same
route; but we'll pick up their trail sometime today, even if we
don't overtake them."

Now, at last, Meriem knew the man was lying to her. What a
fool he must be to think that anyone could believe such a
ridiculous explanation? Who was so stupid as to believe that
they could have expected to overtake another party, and he had
certainly assured her that momentarily he expected to do so, when
that party's route was not to meet theirs for several miles yet?

She kept her own counsel however, planning to escape at the
first opportunity when she might have a sufficient start of her
captor, as she now considered him, to give her some assurance
of outdistancing him. She watched his face continually when
she could without being observed. Tantalizingly the placing of
his familiar features persisted in eluding her. Where had she
known him? Under what conditions had they met before she had
seen him about the farm of Bwana? She ran over in her mind all
the few white men she ever had known. There were some who
had come to her father's douar in the jungle. Few it is
true, but there had been some. Ah, now she had it! She had
seen him there! She almost seized upon his identity and then
in an instant, it had slipped from her again.

It was mid afternoon when they suddenly broke out of the
jungle upon the banks of a broad and placid river. Beyond, upon
the opposite shore, Meriem described a camp surrounded by a
high, thorn boma.

"Here we are at last," said Hanson. He drew his revolver and
fired in the air. Instantly the camp across the river was astir.
Black men ran down the river's bank. Hanson hailed them. But there
was no sign of the Hon. Morison Baynes.

In accordance with their master's instructions the blacks
manned a canoe and rowed across. Hanson placed Meriem in
the little craft and entered it himself, leaving two boys to watch
the horses, which the canoe was to return for and swim across
to the camp side of the river.

Once in the camp Meriem asked for Baynes. For the moment
her fears had been allayed by the sight of the camp, which she
had come to look upon as more or less a myth. Hanson pointed
toward the single tent that stood in the center of the enclosure.

"There," he said, and preceded her toward it. At the entrance
he held the flap aside and motioned her within. Meriem entered
and looked about. The tent was empty. She turned toward Hanson.
There was a broad grin on his face.

"Where is Mr. Baynes?" she demanded.

"He ain't here," replied Hanson. "Leastwise I don't see him,
do you? But I'm here, and I'm a damned sight better man than
that thing ever was. You don't need him no more--you got me,"
and he laughed uproariously and reached for her.

Meriem struggled to free herself. Hanson encircled her arms
and body in his powerful grip and bore her slowly backward
toward the pile of blankets at the far end of the tent. His face
was bent close to hers. His eyes were narrowed to two slits of
heat and passion and desire. Meriem was looking full into his
face as she fought for freedom when there came over her a
sudden recollection of a similar scene in which she had been a
participant and with it full recognition of her assailant. He was
the Swede Malbihn who had attacked her once before, who had
shot his companion who would have saved her, and from whom
she had been rescued by Bwana. His smooth face had deceived
her; but now with the growing beard and the similarity of
conditions recognition came swift and sure.

But today there would be no Bwana to save her.