Chapter 24

Son of Tarzan

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER 24, SON OF TARZAN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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Sometimes lolling upon Tantor's back, sometimes roaming the
jungle in solitude, Korak made his way slowly toward the West
and South. He made but a few miles a day, for he had a whole
lifetime before him and no place in particular to go. Possibly he
would have moved more rapidly but for the thought which continually
haunted him that each mile he traversed carried him further and
further away from Meriem--no longer his Meriem, as of yore, it
is true! but still as dear to him as ever.

Thus he came upon the trail of The Sheik's band as it traveled
down river from the point where The Sheik had captured Meriem
to his own stockaded village. Korak pretty well knew who it was
that had passed, for there were few in the great jungle with whom
he was not familiar, though it had been years since he had come
this far north. He had no particular business, however, with the
old Sheik and so he did not propose following him--the further
from men he could stay the better pleased he would be--he wished
that he might never see a human face again. Men always brought
him sorrow and misery.

The river suggested fishing and so he waddled upon its shores,
catching fish after a fashion of his own devising and eating
them raw. When night came he curled up in a great tree beside
the stream--the one from which he had been fishing during the
afternoon--and was soon asleep. Numa, roaring beneath him,
awoke him. He was about to call out in anger to his noisy
neighbor when something else caught his attention. He listened.
Was there something in the tree beside himself? Yes, he heard
the noise of something below him trying to clamber upward.
Presently he heard the click of a crocodile's jaws in the waters
beneath, and then, low but distinct: "By George! The beggar nearly
got me." The voice was familiar.

Korak glanced downward toward the speaker. Outlined against
the faint luminosity of the water he saw the figure of a man
clinging to a lower branch of the tree. Silently and swiftly the
ape-man clambered downward. He felt a hand beneath his foot.
He reached down and clutched the figure beneath him and dragged
it up among the branches. It struggled weakly and struck
at him; but Korak paid no more attention than Tantor to an ant.
He lugged his burden to the higher safety and greater comfort
of a broad crotch, and there he propped it in a sitting position
against the bole of the tree. Numa still was roaring beneath
them, doubtless in anger that he had been robbed of his prey.
Korak shouted down at him, calling him, in the language of the
great apes, "Old green-eyed eater of carrion," "Brother of Dango,"
the hyena, and other choice appellations of jungle opprobrium.

The Hon. Morison Baynes, listening, felt assured that a gorilla
had seized upon him. He felt for his revolver, and as he was
drawing it stealthily from its holster a voice asked in perfectly
good English, "Who are you?"

Baynes started so that he nearly fell from the branch.

"My God!" he exclaimed. "Are you a man?"

"What did you think I was?" asked Korak.

"A gorilla," replied Baynes, honestly.

Korak laughed.

"Who are you?" he repeated.

"I'm an Englishman by the name of Baynes; but who the devil
are you?" asked the Hon. Morison.

"They call me The Killer," replied Korak, giving the English
translation of the name that Akut had given him. And then after
a pause during which the Hon. Morison attempted to pierce the
darkness and catch a glimpse of the features of the strange being
into whose hands he had fallen, "You are the same whom I saw
kissing the girl at the edge of the great plain to the East,
that time that the lion charged you?"

"Yes," replied Baynes.

"What are you doing here?"

"The girl was stolen--I am trying to rescue her."

"Stolen!" The word was shot out like a bullet from a gun.
"Who stole her?"

"The Swede trader, Hanson," replied Baynes.

"Where is he?"

Baynes related to Korak all that had transpired since he had
come upon Hanson's camp. Before he was done the first gray
dawn had relieved the darkness. Korak made the Englishman
comfortable in the tree. He filled his canteen from the river
and fetched him fruits to eat. Then he bid him good-bye.

"I am going to the Swede's camp," he announced. "I will
bring the girl back to you here."

"I shall go, too, then," insisted Baynes. "It is my right and
my duty, for she was to have become my wife."

Korak winced. "You are wounded. You could not make the trip,"
he said. "I can go much faster alone."

"Go, then," replied Baynes; "but I shall follow. It is my
right and duty."

"As you will," replied Korak, with a shrug. If the man wanted
to be killed it was none of his affair. He wanted to kill him
himself, but for Meriem's sake he would not. If she loved him
then he must do what he could to preserve him, but he could
not prevent his following him, more than to advise him against
it, and this he did, earnestly.

And so Korak set out rapidly toward the North, and limping
slowly and painfully along, soon far to the rear, came the tired
and wounded Baynes. Korak had reached the river bank opposite
Malbihn's camp before Baynes had covered two miles. Late in the
afternoon the Englishman was still plodding wearily along,
forced to stop often for rest when he heard the sound of the
galloping feet of a horse behind him. Instinctively he drew into
the concealing foliage of the underbrush and a moment later a
white-robed Arab dashed by. Baynes did not hail the rider.
He had heard of the nature of the Arabs who penetrate thus far
to the South, and what he had heard had convinced him that a
snake or a panther would as quickly befriend him as one of these
villainous renegades from the Northland.

When Abdul Kamak had passed out of sight toward the North Baynes
resumed his weary march. A half hour later he was again surprised
by the unmistakable sound of galloping horses. This time there
were many. Once more he sought a hiding place; but it chanced
that he was crossing a clearing which offered little opportunity
for concealment. He broke into a slow trot--the best that he
could do in his weakened condition; but it did not suffice to
carry him to safety and before he reached the opposite side of
the clearing a band of white-robed horsemen dashed into view
behind him.

At sight of him they shouted in Arabic, which, of course, he
could not understand, and then they closed about him, threatening
and angry. Their questions were unintelligible to him, and
no more could they interpret his English. At last, evidently out
of patience, the leader ordered two of his men to seize him,
which they lost no time in doing. They disarmed him and ordered
him to climb to the rump of one of the horses, and then the two
who had been detailed to guard him turned and rode back toward
the South, while the others continued their pursuit of Abdul Kamak.

As Korak came out upon the bank of the river across from
which he could see the camp of Malbihn he was at a loss as to
how he was to cross. He could see men moving about among the
huts inside the boma--evidently Hanson was still there.
Korak did not know the true identity of Meriem's abductor.

How was he to cross. Not even he would dare the perils of
the river--almost certain death. For a moment he thought, then
wheeled and sped away into the jungle, uttering a peculiar cry,
shrill and piercing. Now and again he would halt to listen as
though for an answer to his weird call, then on again, deeper
and deeper into the wood.

At last his listening ears were rewarded by the sound they
craved--the trumpeting of a bull elephant, and a few moments
later Korak broke through the trees into the presence of Tantor,
standing with upraised trunk, waving his great ears.

"Quick, Tantor!" shouted the ape-man, and the beast swung
him to his head. "Hurry!" and the mighty pachyderm lumbered
off through the jungle, guided by kicking of naked heels against
the sides of his head.

Toward the northwest Korak guided his huge mount, until they
came out upon the river a mile or more above the Swede's camp,
at a point where Korak knew that there was an elephant ford.
Never pausing the ape-man urged the beast into the river, and with
trunk held high Tantor forged steadily toward the opposite bank.
Once an unwary crocodile attacked him but the sinuous trunk dove
beneath the surface and grasping the amphibian about the middle
dragged it to light and hurled it a hundred feet down stream.
And so, in safety, they made the opposite shore, Korak perched
high and dry above the turgid flood.

Then back toward the South Tantor moved, steadily, relentlessly,
and with a swinging gait which took no heed of any obstacle other
than the larger jungle trees. At times Korak was forced to
abandon the broad head and take to the trees above, so close
the branches raked the back of the elephant; but at last they
came to the edge of the clearing where lay the camp of the
renegade Swede, nor even then did they hesitate or halt.
The gate lay upon the east side of the camp, facing the river.
Tantor and Korak approached from the north. There was no gate
there; but what cared Tantor or Korak for gates.

At a word from the ape man and raising his tender trunk high
above the thorns Tantor breasted the boma, walking through it
as though it had not existed. A dozen blacks squatted before
their huts looked up at the noise of his approach. With sudden
howls of terror and amazement they leaped to their feet and fled
for the open gates. Tantor would have pursued. He hated man,
and he thought that Korak had come to hunt these; but the ape
man held him back, guiding him toward a large, canvas tent that
rose in the center of the clearing--there should be the girl and
her abductor.

Malbihn lay in a hammock beneath canopy before his tent.
His wounds were painful and he had lost much blood. He was
very weak. He looked up in surprise as he heard the screams of
his men and saw them running toward the gate. And then from
around the corner of his tent loomed a huge bulk, and Tantor,
the great tusker, towered above him. Malbihn's boy, feeling
neither affection nor loyalty for his master, broke and ran at the
first glimpse of the beast, and Malbihn was left alone and helpless.

The elephant stopped a couple of paces from the wounded
man's hammock. Malbihn cowered, moaning. He was too weak
to escape. He could only lie there with staring eyes gazing in
horror into the blood rimmed, angry little orbs fixed upon him,
and await his death.

Then, to his astonishment, a man slid to the ground from the
elephant's back. Almost at once Malbihn recognized the strange
figure as that of the creature who consorted with apes and
baboons--the white warrior of the jungle who had freed the king
baboon and led the whole angry horde of hairy devils upon him
and Jenssen. Malbihn cowered still lower.

"Where is the girl?" demanded Korak, in English.

"What girl?" asked Malbihn. "There is no girl here--only
the women of my boys. Is it one of them you want?"

"The white girl," replied Korak. "Do not lie to me--you
lured her from her friends. You have her. Where is she?"

"It was not I," cried Malbihn. "It was an Englishman who hired
me to steal her. He wished to take her to London with him.
She was willing to go. His name is Baynes. Go to him, if you
want to know where the girl is."

"I have just come from him," said Korak. "He sent me to you.
The girl is not with him. Now stop your lying and tell me
the truth. Where is she?" Korak took a threatening step toward
the Swede.

Malbihn shrank from the anger in the other's face.

"I will tell you," he cried. "Do not harm me and I will tell
you all that I know. I had the girl here; but it was Baynes who
persuaded her to leave her friends--he had promised to marry her.
He does not know who she is; but I do, and I know that there is
a great reward for whoever takes her back to her people. It was
the only reward I wanted. But she escaped and crossed the river
in one of my canoes. I followed her, but The Sheik was there,
God knows how, and he captured her and attacked me and drove
me back. Then came Baynes, angry because he had lost the girl,
and shot me. If you want her, go to The Sheik and ask him for
her--she has passed as his daughter since childhood."

"She is not The Sheik's daughter?" asked Korak.

"She is not," replied Malbihn.

"Who is she then?" asked Korak.

Here Malbihn saw his chance. Possibly he could make use of his
knowledge after all--it might even buy back his life for him.
He was not so credulous as to believe that this savage ape-man
would have any compunctions about slaying him.

"When you find her I will tell you," he said, "if you will
promise to spare my life and divide the reward with me. If you
kill me you will never know, for only The Sheik knows and he
will never tell. The girl herself is ignorant of her origin."

"If you have told me the truth I will spare you," said Korak.
"I shall go now to The Sheik's village and if the girl is not there
I shall return and slay you. As for the other information you
have, if the girl wants it when we have found her we will find a
way to purchase it from you."

The look in the Killer's eyes and his emphasis of the word "purchase"
were none too reassuring to Malbihn. Evidently, unless he found
means to escape, this devil would have both his secret and his
life before he was done with him. He wished he would be gone
and take his evil-eyed companion away with him. The swaying bulk
towering high above him, and the ugly little eyes of the elephant
watching his every move made Malbihn nervous.

Korak stepped into the Swede's tent to assure himself that
Meriem was not hid there. As he disappeared from view Tantor,
his eyes still fixed upon Malbihn, took a step nearer the man.
An elephant's eyesight is none too good; but the great tusker
evidently had harbored suspicions of this yellow-bearded white
man from the first. Now he advanced his snake-like trunk toward
the Swede, who shrank still deeper into his hammock.

The sensitive member felt and smelled back and forth along
the body of the terrified Malbihn. Tantor uttered a low,
rumbling sound. His little eyes blazed. At last he had
recognized the creature who had killed his mate long
years before. Tantor, the elephant, never forgets and
never forgives. Malbihn saw in the demoniacal visage above
him the murderous purpose of the beast. He shrieked aloud
to Korak. "Help! Help! The devil is going to kill me!"

Korak ran from the tent just in time to see the enraged
elephant's trunk encircle the beast's victim, and then hammock,
canopy and man were swung high over Tantor's head. Korak leaped
before the animal, commanding him to put down his prey unharmed;
but as well might he have ordered the eternal river to reverse
its course. Tantor wheeled around like a cat, hurled Malbihn
to the earth and kneeled upon him with the quickness of a cat.
Then he gored the prostrate thing through and through with his
mighty tusks, trumpeting and roaring in his rage, and at last,
convinced that no slightest spark of life remained in the crushed
and lacerated flesh, he lifted the shapeless clay that had been
Sven Malbihn far aloft and hurled the bloody mass, still
entangled in canopy and hammock, over the boma and out into
the jungle.

Korak stood looking sorrowfully on at the tragedy he gladly
would have averted. He had no love for the Swede, in fact only
hatred; but he would have preserved the man for the sake of the
secret he possessed. Now that secret was gone forever unless
The Sheik could be made to divulge it; but in that possibility
Korak placed little faith.

The ape-man, as unafraid of the mighty Tantor as though he
had not just witnessed his shocking murder of a human being,
signalled the beast to approach and lift him to its head, and
Tantor came as he was bid, docile as a kitten, and hoisted The
Killer tenderly aloft.

From the safety of their hiding places in the jungle Malbihn's
boys had witnessed the killing of their master, and now, with
wide, frightened eyes, they saw the strange white warrior,

mounted upon the head of his ferocious charger, disappear into
the jungle at the point from which he had emerged upon their
terrified vision.