Chapter 26

Son of Tarzan

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER 26, SON OF TARZAN by Edgar R. Burroughs
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Meriem, dazed by the unexpected sight of Korak whom she had
long given up as dead, permitted herself to be led away
by Baynes. Among the tents he guided her safely to the
palisade, and there, following Korak's instructions, the
Englishman pitched a noose over the top of one of the
upright logs that formed the barrier. With difficulty he
reached the top and then lowered his hand to assist Meriem
to his side.

"Come!" he whispered. "We must hurry." And then, as
though she had awakened from a sleep, Meriem came to herself.
Back there, fighting her enemies, alone, was Korak--her Korak.
Her place was by his side, fighting with him and for him.
She glanced up at Baynes.

"Go!" she called. "Make your way back to Bwana and bring help.
My place is here. You can do no good remaining. Get away
while you can and bring the Big Bwana back with you."

Silently the Hon. Morison Baynes slid to the ground inside
the palisade to Meriem's side.

"It was only for you that I left him," he said, nodding toward
the tents they had just left. "I knew that he could hold them
longer than I and give you a chance to escape that I might not be
able to have given you. It was I though who should have remained.
I heard you call him Korak and so I know now who he is.
He befriended you. I would have wronged you. No--don't interrupt.
I'm going to tell you the truth now and let you know just what
a beast I have been. I planned to take you to London, as you know;
but I did not plan to marry you. Yes, shrink from me--I deserve it.
I deserve your contempt and loathing; but I didn't know then what
love was. Since I have learned that I have learned something
else--what a cad and what a coward I have been all my life.
I looked down upon those whom I considered my social inferiors.
I did not think you good enough to bear my name. Since Hanson
tricked me and took you for himself I have been through hell;
but it has made a man of me, though too late. Now I can come to
you with an offer of honest love, which will realize the honor of
having such as you share my name with me."

For a moment Meriem was silent, buried in thought. Her first
question seemed irrelevant.

"How did you happen to be in this village?" she asked.

He told her all that had transpired since the black had told
him of Hanson's duplicity.

"You say that you are a coward," she said, "and yet you have
done all this to save me? The courage that it must have taken to
tell me the things that you told me but a moment since, while
courage of a different sort, proves that you are no moral coward,
and the other proves that you are not a physical coward. I could
not love a coward."

"You mean that you love me?" he gasped in astonishment, taking
a step toward her as though to gather her into his arms; but
she placed her hand against him and pushed him gently away,
as much as to say, not yet. What she did mean she scarcely knew.
She thought that she loved him, of that there can be no question;
nor did she think that love for this young Englishman was
disloyalty to Korak, for her love for Korak was undiminished--the
love of a sister for an indulgent brother. As they stood
there for the moment of their conversation the sounds of tumult
in the village subsided.

"They have killed him," whispered Meriem.

The statement brought Baynes to a realization of the cause of
their return.

"Wait here," he said. "I will go and see. If he is dead we
can do him no good. If he lives I will do my best to free him."

"We will go together," replied Meriem. "Come!" And she led
the way back toward the tent in which they last had seen Korak.
As they went they were often forced to throw themselves to the
ground in the shadow of a tent or hut, for people were passing
hurriedly to and fro now--the whole village was aroused and
moving about. The return to the tent of Ali ben Kadin took
much longer than had their swift flight to the palisade.
Cautiously they crept to the slit that Korak's knife had made in
the rear wall. Meriem peered within--the rear apartment was empty.
She crawled through the aperture, Baynes at her heels, and then
silently crossed the space to the rugs that partitioned the tent
into two rooms. Parting the hangings Meriem looked into the
front room. It, too, was deserted. She crossed to the door of
the tent and looked out. Then she gave a little gasp of horror.
Baynes at her shoulder looked past her to the sight that had
startled her, and he, too, exclaimed; but his was an oath of anger.

A hundred feet away they saw Korak bound to a stake--the
brush piled about him already alight. The Englishman pushed
Meriem to one side and started to run for the doomed man.
What he could do in the face of scores of hostile blacks and
Arabs he did not stop to consider. At the same instant Tantor
broke through the palisade and charged the group. In the face
of the maddened beast the crowd turned and fled, carrying
Baynes backward with them. In a moment it was all over, and
the elephant had disappeared with his prize; but pandemonium
reigned throughout the village. Men, women and children ran
helter skelter for safety. Curs fled, yelping. The horses and
camels and donkeys, terrorized by the trumpeting of the pachyderm,
kicked and pulled at their tethers. A dozen or more broke loose,
and it was the galloping of these past him that brought a sudden
idea into Baynes' head. He turned to search for Meriem only to
find her at his elbow.

"The horses!" he cried. "If we can get a couple of them!"

Filled with the idea Meriem led him to the far end of the village.

"Loosen two of them," she said, "and lead them back into the
shadows behind those huts. I know where there are saddles.
I will bring them and the bridles," and before he could stop
her she was gone.

Baynes quickly untied two of the restive animals and led them
to the point designated by Meriem. Here he waited impatiently
for what seemed an hour; but was, in reality, but a few minutes.
Then he saw the girl approaching beneath the burden of two saddles.
Quickly they placed these upon the horses. They could see by the
light of the torture fire that still burned that the blacks and
Arabs were recovering from their panic. Men were running about
gathering in the loose stock, and two or three were already
leading their captives back to the end of the village where
Meriem and Baynes were busy with the trappings of their mounts.

Now the girl flung herself into the saddle.

"Hurry!" she whispered. "We shall have to run for it.
Ride through the gap that Tantor made," and as she saw Baynes
swing his leg over the back of his horse, she shook the reins
free over her mount's neck. With a lunge, the nervous beast
leaped forward. The shortest path led straight through the
center of the village, and this Meriem took. Baynes was close
behind her, their horses running at full speed.

So sudden and impetuous was their dash for escape that it
carried them half-way across the village before the surprised
inhabitants were aware of what was happening. Then an Arab
recognized them, and, with a cry of alarm, raised his rifle
and fired. The shot was a signal for a volley, and amid the
rattle of musketry Meriem and Baynes leaped their flying mounts
through the breach in the palisade and were gone up the well-worn
trail toward the north.

And Korak?

Tantor carried him deep into the jungle, nor paused until no
sound from the distant village reached his keen ears. Then he
laid his burden gently down. Korak struggled to free himself
from his bonds, but even his great strength was unable to cope
with the many strands of hard-knotted cord that bound him.
While he lay there, working and resting by turns, the elephant
stood guard above him, nor was there jungle enemy with the
hardihood to tempt the sudden death that lay in that mighty bulk.

Dawn came, and still Korak was no nearer freedom than before.
He commenced to believe that he should die there of thirst
and starvation with plenty all about him, for he knew that
Tantor could not unloose the knots that held him.

And while he struggled through the night with his bonds, Baynes
and Meriem were riding rapidly northward along the river.
The girl had assured Baynes that Korak was safe in the jungle
with Tantor. It had not occurred to her that the ape-man
might not be able to burst his bonds. Baynes had been wounded
by a shot from the rifle of one of the Arabs, and the girl wanted
to get him back to Bwana's home, where he could be properly
cared for.

"Then," she said, "I shall get Bwana to come with me and
search for Korak. He must come and live with us."

All night they rode, and the day was still young when they came
suddenly upon a party hurrying southward. It was Bwana himself
and his sleek, black warriors. At sight of Baynes the big
Englishman's brows contracted in a scowl; but he waited to hear
Meriem's story before giving vent to the long anger in his breast.
When she had finished he seemed to have forgotten Baynes.
His thoughts were occupied with another subject.

"You say that you found Korak?" he asked. "You really saw him?"

"Yes," replied Meriem; "as plainly as I see you, and I want
you to come with me, Bwana, and help me find him again."

"Did you see him?" He turned toward the Hon. Morison.

"Yes, sir," replied Baynes; "very plainly."

"What sort of appearing man is he?" continued Bwana.
"About how old, should you say?"

"I should say he was an Englishman, about my own age,"
replied Baynes; "though he might be older. He is remarkably
muscled, and exceedingly tanned."

"His eyes and hair, did you notice them?" Bwana spoke
rapidly, almost excitedly. It was Meriem who answered him.

"Korak's hair is black and his eyes are gray," she said.

Bwana turned to his headman.

"Take Miss Meriem and Mr. Baynes home," he said. "I am going
into the jungle."

"Let me go with you, Bwana," cried Meriem. "You are going to
search for Korak. Let me go, too."

Bwana turned sadly but firmly upon the girl.

"Your place," he said, "is beside the man you love."

Then he motioned to his head-man to take his horse and commence
the return journey to the farm. Meriem slowly mounted the tired
Arab that had brought her from the village of The Sheik. A litter
was rigged for the now feverish Baynes, and the little cavalcade
was soon slowly winding off along the river trail.

Bwana stood watching them until they were out of sight.
Not once had Meriem turned her eyes backward. She rode with
bowed head and drooping shoulders. Bwana sighed. He loved
the little Arab girl as he might have loved an own daughter.
He realized that Baynes had redeemed himself, and so he could
interpose no objections now if Meriem really loved the man;
but, somehow, some way, Bwana could not convince himself that
the Hon. Morison was worthy of his little Meriem. Slowly he
turned toward a nearby tree. Leaping upward he caught a
lower branch and drew himself up among the branches.
His movements were cat-like and agile. High into the trees
he made his way and there commenced to divest himself of
his clothing. From the game bag slung across one shoulder he
drew a long strip of doe-skin, a neatly coiled rope, and a
wicked looking knife. The doe-skin, he fashioned into a loin
cloth, the rope he looped over one shoulder, and the knife he
thrust into the belt formed by his gee string.

When he stood erect, his head thrown back and his great chest
expanded a grim smile touched his lips for a moment. His nostrils
dilated as he sniffed the jungle odors. His gray eyes narrowed.
He crouched and leaped to a lower limb and was away through the
trees toward the southeast, bearing away from the river. He moved
swiftly, stopping only occasionally to raise his voice in a weird
and piercing scream, and to listen for a moment after for a reply.

He had traveled thus for several hours when, ahead of him
and a little to his left, he heard, far off in the jungle, a faint
response--the cry of a bull ape answering his cry. His nerves
tingled and his eyes lighted as the sound fell upon his ears.
Again he voiced his hideous call, and sped forward in the
new direction.

Korak, finally becoming convinced that he must die if he
remained where he was, waiting for the succor that could not
come, spoke to Tantor in the strange tongue that the great
beast understood. He commanded the elephant to lift him and
carry him toward the northeast. There, recently, Korak had seen
both white men and black. If he could come upon one of the latter
it would be a simple matter to command Tantor to capture the
fellow, and then Korak could get him to release him from the stake.
It was worth trying at least--better than lying there in the jungle
until he died. As Tantor bore him along through the forest
Korak called aloud now and then in the hope of attracting Akut's
band of anthropoids, whose wanderings often brought them into
their neighborhood. Akut, he thought, might possibly be able
to negotiate the knots--he had done so upon that other occasion
when the Russian had bound Korak years before; and Akut, to
the south of him, heard his calls faintly, and came. There was
another who heard them, too.

After Bwana had left his party, sending them back toward the
farm, Meriem had ridden for a short distance with bowed head.
What thoughts passed through that active brain who may say?
Presently she seemed to come to a decision. She called the
headman to her side.

"I am going back with Bwana," she announced.

The black shook his head. "No!" he announced. "Bwana says I
take you home. So I take you home."

"You refuse to let me go?" asked the girl.

The black nodded, and fell to the rear where he might better
watch her. Meriem half smiled. Presently her horse passed
beneath a low-hanging branch, and the black headman found
himself gazing at the girl's empty saddle. He ran forward to
the tree into which she had disappeared. He could see nothing
of her. He called; but there was no response, unless it might
have been a low, taunting laugh far to the right. He sent his
men into the jungle to search for her; but they came back
empty handed. After a while he resumed his march toward the
farm, for Baynes, by this time, was delirious with fever.

Meriem raced straight back toward the point she imagined
Tantor would make for--a point where she knew the elephants
often gathered deep in the forest due east of The Sheik's village.
She moved silently and swiftly. From her mind she had expunged
all thoughts other than that she must reach Korak and bring him
back with her. It was her place to do that. Then, too, had
come the tantalizing fear that all might not be well with him.
She upbraided herself for not thinking of that before--of letting
her desire to get the wounded Morison back to the bungalow blind
her to the possibilities of Korak's need for her. She had been
traveling rapidly for several hours without rest when she heard
ahead of her the familiar cry of a great ape calling to his kind.

She did not reply, only increased her speed until she almost flew.
Now there came to her sensitive nostrils the scent of Tantor
and she knew that she was on the right trail and close to him
she sought. She did not call out because she wished to surprise
him, and presently she did, breaking into sight of them as the
great elephant shuffled ahead balancing the man and the heavy
stake upon his head, holding them there with his upcurled trunk.

"Korak!" cried Meriem from the foliage above him.

Instantly the bull swung about, lowered his burden to the
ground and, trumpeting savagely, prepared to defend his comrade.
The ape-man, recognizing the girl's voice, felt a sudden lump
in his throat.

"Meriem!" he called back to her.

Happily the girl clambered to the ground and ran forward to
release Korak; but Tantor lowered his head ominously and
trumpeted a warning.

"Go back! Go back!" cried Korak. "He will kill you."

Meriem paused. "Tantor!" she called to the huge brute.
"Don't you remember me? I am little Meriem. I used to ride
on your broad back;" but the bull only rumbled in his throat
and shook his tusks in angry defiance. Then Korak tried to
placate him. Tried to order him away, that the girl might
approach and release him; but Tantor would not go. He saw in
every human being other than Korak an enemy. He thought the
girl bent upon harming his friend and he would take no chances.
For an hour the girl and the man tried to find some means
whereby they might circumvent the beast's ill directed
guardianship, but all to no avail; Tantor stood his ground
in grim determination to let no one approach Korak.

Presently the man hit upon a scheme. "Pretend to go away,"
he called to the girl. "Keep down wind from us so that Tantor
won't get your scent, then follow us. After a while I'll have
him put me down, and find some pretext for sending him away.
While he is gone you can slip up and cut my bonds--have you
a knife?"

"Yes, I have a knife," she replied. "I'll go now--I think we may
be able to fool him; but don't be too sure--Tantor invented cunning."

Korak smiled, for he knew that the girl was right. Presently she
had disappeared. The elephant listened, and raised his trunk
to catch her scent. Korak commanded him to raise him to his
head once more and proceed upon their way. After a moment's
hesitation he did as he was bid. It was then that Korak heard
the distant call of an ape.

"Akut!" he thought. "Good! Tantor knew Akut well. He would
let him approach." Raising his voice Korak replied to the call
of the ape; but he let Tantor move off with him through the
jungle; it would do no harm to try the other plan. They had
come to a clearing and plainly Korak smelled water. Here was
a good place and a good excuse. He ordered Tantor to lay him
down, and go and fetch him water in his trunk. The big beast
deposited him upon the grass in the center of the clearing, then
he stood with cocked ears and attentive trunk, searching for the
slightest indication of danger--there seemed to be none and he
moved away in the direction of the little brook that Korak knew
was some two or three hundred yards away. The ape-man could
scarce help smiling as he thought how cleverly he had tricked
his friend; but well as he knew Tantor he little guessed the guile
of his cunning brain. The animal ambled off across the clearing
and disappeared in the jungle beyond in the direction of the
stream; but scarce had his great bulk been screened by the dense
foliage than he wheeled about and came cautiously back to the
edge of the clearing where he could see without being seen.
Tantor, by nature, is suspicious. Now he still feared the return
of the she Tarmangani who had attempted to attack his Korak.
He would just stand there for a moment and assure himself that
all was well before he continued on toward the water. Ah! It
was well that he did! There she was now dropping from the
branches of a tree across the clearing and running swiftly toward
the ape-man. Tantor waited. He would let her reach Korak before
he charged--that would ensure that she had no chance of escape.
His little eyes blazed savagely. His tail was elevated stiffly.
He could scarce restrain a desire to trumpet forth his rage
to the world. Meriem was almost at Korak's side when Tantor
saw the long knife in her hand, and then he broke forth from the
jungle, bellowing horribly, and charged down upon the frail girl.