19

Tarzan, the Jewels of Opar

by Edgar R. Burroughs

19, TARZAN, THE JEWELS OF OPAR by Edgar R. Burroughs
An eText from LiteratureClassics.com.

Please see the eText readme for important copyright information (available from the options menu above if you are browsing online or as a separate file in the archive if you are browsing offline.)



Jane Clayton and the Beasts of the Jungle


Mugambi, after his successful break for liberty,
had fallen upon hard times. His way had led him through
a country with which he was unfamiliar, a jungle country
in which he could find no water, and but little food,
so that after several days of wandering he found
himself so reduced in strength that he could barely
drag himself along.

It was with growing difficulty that he found the
strength necessary to construct a shelter by night
wherein he might be reasonably safe from the large
carnivora, and by day he still further exhausted his
strength in digging for edible roots, and searching for
water.

A few stagnant pools at considerable distances apart
saved him from death by thirst; but his was a pitiable
state when finally he stumbled by accident upon a large
river in a country where fruit was abundant, and small
game which he might bag by means of a combination of
stealth, cunning, and a crude knob-stick which he had
fashioned from a fallen limb.

Realizing that he still had a long march ahead of him
before he could reach even the outskirts of the Waziri
country, Mugambi wisely decided to remain where he was
until he had recuperated his strength and health. A
few days' rest would accomplish wonders for him, he
knew, and he could ill afford to sacrifice his chances
for a safe return by setting forth handicapped by
weakness.

And so it was that he constructed a substantial thorn
boma, and rigged a thatched shelter within it, where he
might sleep by night in security, and from which he
sallied forth by day to hunt the flesh which alone
could return to his giant thews their normal prowess.

One day, as he hunted, a pair of savage eyes discovered
him from the concealment of the branches of a great
tree beneath which the black warrior passed.
Bloodshot, wicked eyes they were, set in a fierce and
hairy face.

They watched Mugambi make his little kill of a small
rodent, and they followed him as he returned to his
hut, their owner moving quietly through the trees upon
the trail of the Negro.

The creature was Chulk, and he looked down upon the
unconscious man more in curiosity than in hate. The
wearing of the Arab burnoose which Tarzan had placed
upon his person had aroused in the mind of the
anthropoid a desire for similar mimicry of the
Tarmangani. The burnoose, though, had obstructed his
movements and proven such a nuisance that the ape had
long since torn it from him and thrown it away.

Now, however, he saw a Gomangani arrayed in less
cumbersome apparel--a loin cloth, a few copper
ornaments and a feather headdress. These were more in
line with Chulk's desires than a flowing robe which was
constantly getting between one's legs, and catching
upon every limb and bush along the leafy trail.

Chulk eyed the pouch, which, suspended over Mugambi's
shoulder, swung beside his black hip. This took his
fancy, for it was ornamented with feathers and a
fringe, and so the ape hung about Mugambi's boma,
waiting an opportunity to seize either by stealth or
might some object of the black's apparel.

Nor was it long before the opportunity came. Feeling
safe within his thorny enclosure, Mugambi was wont to
stretch himself in the shade of his shelter during the
heat of the day, and sleep in peaceful security until
the declining sun carried with it the enervating
temperature of midday.

Watching from above, Chulk saw the black warrior
stretched thus in the unconsciousness of sleep one
sultry afternoon. Creeping out upon an overhanging
branch the anthropoid dropped to the ground within the
boma. He approached the sleeper upon padded feet which
gave forth no sound, and with an uncanny woodcraft that
rustled not a leaf or a grass blade.

Pausing beside the man, the ape bent over and examined
his belongings. Great as was the strength of Chulk
there lay in the back of his little brain a something
which deterred him from arousing the man to combat--a
sense that is inherent in all the lower orders, a
strange fear of man, that rules even the most powerful
of the jungle creatures at times.

To remove Mugambi's loin cloth without awakening him
would be impossible, and the only detachable things
were the knob-stick and the pouch, which had fallen
from the black's shoulder as he rolled in sleep.

Seizing these two articles, as better than nothing at
all, Chulk retreated with haste, and every indication
of nervous terror, to the safety of the tree from which
he had dropped, and, still haunted by that indefinable
terror which the close proximity of man awakened in his
breast, fled precipitately through the jungle. Aroused
by attack, or supported by the presence of another of
his kind, Chulk could have braved the presence of a
score of human beings, but alone--ah, that was a
different matter--alone, and unenraged.

It was some time after Mugambi awoke that he missed the
pouch. Instantly he was all excitement. What could
have become of it? It had been at his side when he lay
down to sleep--of that he was certain, for had he not
pushed it from beneath him when its bulging bulk,
pressing against his ribs, caused him discomfort? Yes,
it had been there when he lay down to sleep. How then
had it vanished?

Mugambi's savage imagination was filled with visions of
the spirits of departed friends and enemies, for only
to the machinations of such as these could he attribute
the disappearance of his pouch and knob-stick in the
first excitement of the discovery of their loss; but
later and more careful investigation, such as his
woodcraft made possible, revealed indisputable evidence
of a more material explanation than his excited fancy
and superstition had at first led him to accept.

In the trampled turf beside him was the faint impress
of huge, manlike feet. Mugambi raised his brows as the
truth dawned upon him. Hastily leaving the boma he
searched in all directions about the enclosure for some
farther sign of the tell-tale spoor. He climbed trees
and sought for evidence of the direction of the thief's
flight; but the faint signs left by a wary ape who
elects to travel through the trees eluded the woodcraft
of Mugambi. Tarzan might have followed them; but no
ordinary mortal could perceive them, or perceiving,
translate.

The black, now strengthened and refreshed by his rest,
felt ready to set out again for Waziri, and finding
himself another knob-stick, turned his back upon the
river and plunged into the mazes of the jungle.

As Taglat struggled with the bonds which secured the
ankles and wrists of his captive, the great lion that
eyed the two from behind a nearby clump of bushes
wormed closer to his intended prey.

The ape's back was toward the lion. He did not see the
broad head, fringed by its rough mane, protruding
through the leafy wall. He could not know that the
powerful hind paws were gathering close beneath the
tawny belly preparatory to a sudden spring, and his
first intimation of impending danger was the thunderous
and triumphant roar which the charging lion could no
longer suppress.

Scarce pausing for a backward glance, Taglat abandoned
the unconscious woman and fled in the opposite
direction from the horrid sound which had broken in so
unexpected and terrifying a manner upon his startled
ears; but the warning had come too late to save him,
and the lion, in his second bound, alighted full upon
the broad shoulders of the anthropoid.

As the great bull went down there was awakened in him
to the full all the cunning, all the ferocity, all the
physical prowess which obey the mightiest of the
fundamental laws of nature, the law of self-preservation,
and turning upon his back he closed with
the carnivore in a death struggle so fearless and
abandoned, that for a moment the great Numa himself may
have trembled for the outcome.

Seizing the lion by the mane, Taglat buried his
yellowed fangs deep in the monster's throat, growling
hideously through the muffled gag of blood and hair.
Mixed with the ape's voice the lion's roars of rage and
pain reverberated through the jungle, till the lesser
creatures of the wild, startled from their peaceful
pursuits, scurried fearfully away.

Rolling over and over upon the turf the two battled
with demoniac fury, until the colossal cat, by doubling
his hind paws far up beneath his belly sank his talons
deep into Taglat's chest, then, ripping downward with
all his strength, Numa accomplished his design, and the
disemboweled anthropoid, with a last spasmodic
struggle, relaxed in limp and bloody dissolution
beneath his titanic adversary.

Scrambling to his feet, Numa looked about quickly in
all directions, as though seeking to detect the
possible presence of other foes; but only the still and
unconscious form of the girl, lying a few paces from
him met his gaze, and with an angry growl he placed a
forepaw upon the body of his kill and raising his head
gave voice to his savage victory cry.

For another moment he stood with fierce eyes roving to
and fro about the clearing. At last they halted for a
second time upon the girl. A low growl rumbled from
the lion's throat. His lower jaw rose and fell, and
the slaver drooled and dripped upon the dead face of
Taglat.

Like two yellow-green augurs, wide and unblinking, the
terrible eyes remained fixed upon Jane Clayton. The
erect and majestic pose of the great frame shrank
suddenly into a sinister crouch as, slowly and gently
as one who treads on eggs, the devil-faced cat crept
forward toward the girl.

Beneficent Fate maintained her in happy unconsciousness
of the dread presence sneaking stealthily upon her.
She did not know when the lion paused at her side.
She did not hear the sniffing of his nostrils as he smelled
about her. She did not feel the heat of the fetid
breath upon her face, nor the dripping of the saliva
from the frightful jaws half opened so close above her.

Finally the lion lifted a forepaw and turned the body
of the girl half over, then he stood again eyeing her
as though still undetermined whether life was extinct
or not. Some noise or odor from the nearby jungle
attracted his attention for a moment. His eyes did not
again return to Jane Clayton, and presently he left
her, walked over to the remains of Taglat, and
crouching down upon his kill with his back toward the
girl, proceeded to devour the ape.

It was upon this scene that Jane Clayton at last opened
her eyes. Inured to danger, she maintained her
self-possession in the face of the startling surprise
which her new-found consciousness revealed to her. She
neither cried out nor moved a muscle, until she had
taken in every detail of the scene which lay within the
range of her vision.

She saw that the lion had killed the ape, and that he
was devouring his prey less than fifty feet from where
she lay; but what could she do? Her hands and feet were
bound. She must wait then, in what patience she could
command, until Numa had eaten and digested the ape,
when, without doubt, he would return to feast upon her,
unless, in the meantime, the dread hyenas should
discover her, or some other of the numerous prowling
carnivora of the jungle.

As she lay tormented by these frightful thoughts, she
suddenly became conscious that the bonds at her wrists
and ankles no longer hurt her, and then of the fact
that her hands were separated, one lying upon either
side of her, instead of both being confined at her back.

Wonderingly she moved a hand. What miracle had been
performed? It was not bound! Stealthily and noiselessly
she moved her other limbs, only to discover that she
was free. She could not know how the thing had
happened, that Taglat, gnawing upon them for sinister
purposes of his own, had cut them through but an
instant before Numa had frightened him from his victim.

For a moment Jane Clayton was overwhelmed with joy and
thanksgiving; but only for a moment. What good was her
new-found liberty in the face of the frightful beast
crouching so close beside her? If she could have had
this chance under different conditions, how happily she
would have taken advantage of it; but now it was given
to her when escape was practically impossible.

The nearest tree was a hundred feet away, the lion less
than fifty. To rise and attempt to reach the safety of
those tantalizing branches would be but to invite
instant destruction, for Numa would doubtless be too
jealous of this future meal to permit it to escape with
ease. And yet, too, there was another possibility--a
chance which hinged entirely upon the unknown temper of
the great beast.

His belly already partially filled, he might watch with
indifference the departure of the girl; yet could she
afford to chance so improbable a contingency? She
doubted it. Upon the other hand she was no more minded
to allow this frail opportunity for life to entirely
elude her without taking or attempting to take some
advantage from it.

She watched the lion narrowly. He could not see her
without turning his head more than halfway around. She
would attempt a ruse. Silently she rolled over in the
direction of the nearest tree, and away from the lion,
until she lay again in the same position in which Numa
had left her, but a few feet farther from him.

Here she lay breathless watching the lion; but the
beast gave no indication that he had heard aught to
arouse his suspicions. Again she rolled over, gaining
a few more feet and again she lay in rigid
contemplation of the beast's back.

During what seemed hours to her tense nerves, Jane
Clayton continued these tactics, and still the lion fed
on in apparent unconsciousness that his second prey was
escaping him. Already the girl was but a few paces
from the tree--a moment more and she would be close
enough to chance springing to her feet, throwing
caution aside and making a sudden, bold dash for
safety. She was halfway over in her turn, her face
away from the lion, when he suddenly turned his great
head and fastened his eyes upon her. He saw her roll
over upon her side away from him, and then her eyes
were turned again toward him, and the cold sweat broke
from the girl's every pore as she realized that with
life almost within her grasp, death had found her out.

For a long time neither the girl nor the lion moved.
The beast lay motionless, his head turned upon his
shoulders and his glaring eyes fixed upon the rigid
victim, now nearly fifty yards away. The girl stared
back straight into those cruel orbs, daring not to move
even a muscle.

The strain upon her nerves was becoming so unbearable
that she could scarcely restrain a growing desire to
scream, when Numa deliberately turned back to the
business of feeding; but his back-layed ears attested a
sinister regard for the actions of the girl behind him.

Realizing that she could not again turn without
attracting his immediate and perhaps fatal attention,
Jane Clayton resolved to risk all in one last attempt
to reach the tree and clamber to the lower branches.

Gathering herself stealthily for the effort, she leaped
suddenly to her feet, but almost simultaneously the
lion sprang up, wheeled and with wide-distended jaws
and terrific roars, charged swiftly down upon her.

Those who have spent lifetimes hunting the big game of
Africa will tell you that scarcely any other creature
in the world attains the speed of a charging lion.
For the short distance that the great cat can maintain it,
it resembles nothing more closely than the onrushing of
a giant locomotive under full speed, and so, though the
distance that Jane Clayton must cover was relatively
small, the terrific speed of the lion rendered her
hopes of escape almost negligible.

Yet fear can work wonders, and though the upward spring
of the lion as he neared the tree into which she was
scrambling brought his talons in contact with her boots
she eluded his raking grasp, and as he hurtled against
the bole of her sanctuary, the girl drew herself into
the safety of the branches above his reach.

For some time the lion paced, growling and moaning,
beneath the tree in which Jane Clayton crouched,
panting and trembling. The girl was a prey to the
nervous reaction from the frightful ordeal through
which she had so recently passed, and in her
overwrought state it seemed that never again should she
dare descend to the ground among the fearsome dangers
which infested the broad stretch of jungle that she
knew must lie between herself and the nearest village
of her faithful Waziri.

It was almost dark before the lion finally quit the
clearing, and even had his place beside the remnants of
the mangled ape not been immediately usurped by a pack
of hyenas, Jane Clayton would scarcely have dared
venture from her refuge in the face of impending night,
and so she composed herself as best she could for the
long and tiresome wait, until daylight might offer some
means of escape from the dread vicinity in which she
had witnessed such terrifying adventures.

Tired nature at last overcame even her fears, and she
dropped into a deep slumber, cradled in a comparatively
safe, though rather uncomfortable, position against the
bole of the tree, and supported by two large branches
which grew outward, almost horizontally, but a few
inches apart.

The sun was high in the heavens when she at last awoke,
and beneath her was no sign either of Numa or the
hyenas. Only the clean-picked bones of the ape,
scattered about the ground, attested the fact of what
had transpired in this seemingly peaceful spot but a
few hours before.

Both hunger and thirst assailed her now, and realizing
that she must descend or die of starvation, she at last
summoned courage to undertake the ordeal of continuing
her journey through the jungle.

Descending from the tree, she set out in a southerly
direction, toward the point where she believed the
plains of Waziri lay, and though she knew that only
ruin and desolation marked the spot where once her
happy home had stood, she hoped that by coming to the
broad plain she might eventually reach one of the
numerous Waziri villages that were scattered over the
surrounding country, or chance upon a roving band of
these indefatigable huntsmen.

The day was half spent when there broke unexpectedly
upon her startled ears the sound of a rifle shot not
far ahead of her. As she paused to listen, this first
shot was followed by another and another and another.
What could it mean? The first explanation which sprung
to her mind attributed the firing to an encounter
between the Arab raiders and a party of Waziri; but as
she did not know upon which side victory might rest, or
whether she were behind friend or foe, she dared not
advance nearer on the chance of revealing herself to an
enemy.

After listening for several minutes she became
convinced that no more than two or three rifles were
engaged in the fight, since nothing approximating the
sound of a volley reached her ears; but still she
hesitated to approach, and at last, determining to take
no chance, she climbed into the concealing foliage of a
tree beside the trail she had been following and there
fearfully awaited whatever might reveal itself.

As the firing became less rapid she caught the sound of
men's voices, though she could distinguish no words,
and at last the reports of the guns ceased, and she
heard two men calling to each other in loud tones.
Then there was a long silence which was finally broken
by the stealthy padding of footfalls on the trail ahead
of her, and in another moment a man appeared in view
backing toward her, a rifle ready in his hands, and his
eyes directed in careful watchfulness along the way
that he had come.

Almost instantly Jane Clayton recognized the man as M.
Jules Frecoult, who so recently had been a guest in her
home. She was upon the point of calling to him in glad
relief when she saw him leap quickly to one side and
hide himself in the thick verdure at the trail's side.
It was evident that he was being followed by an enemy,
and so Jane Clayton kept silent, lest she distract
Frecoult's attention, or guide his foe to his hiding
place.

Scarcely had Frecoult hidden himself than the figure of
a white-robed Arab crept silently along the trail in
pursuit. From her hiding place, Jane Clayton could see
both men plainly. She recognized Achmet Zek as the
leader of the band of ruffians who had raided her home
and made her a prisoner, and as she saw Frecoult, the
supposed friend and ally, raise his gun and take
careful aim at the Arab, her heart stood still and
every power of her soul was directed upon a fervent
prayer for the accuracy of his aim.

Achmet Zek paused in the middle of the trail. His keen
eyes scanned every bush and tree within the radius of
his vision. His tall figure presented a perfect target
to the perfidious assassin. There was a sharp report,
and a little puff of smoke arose from the bush that hid
the Belgian, as Achmet Zek stumbled forward and
pitched, face down, upon the trail.

As Werper stepped back into the trail, he was startled
by the sound of a glad cry from above him, and as he
wheeled about to discover the author of this unexpected
interruption, he saw Jane Clayton drop lightly from a
nearby tree and run forward with outstretched hands to
congratulate him upon his victory.