Tarzan flung Cannon as easily as he had flung the panther. But not as gently. Cannon flew backward, high and hard, and hit his head against a tree trunk with the sound of rotten timber falling into a pond. He hit the tree and then the ground and didn't get up.
In the same instant, Wilson and Talent moved, came at the ape-man from two sides, drawing their pistols. They were fast. Real fast. But Tarzan was faster. His right leg shot out and kicked Talent in the stomach. As Talent bent forward, Tarzan slapped the .45 from his hand with the ease of a cobra striking a paralyzed rodent. Then Tarzan spun toward Wilson, dealing him a slap along the right side of his head, just behind the ear. It was a tremendous blow, dealt with the palm slightly cuffed; a technique Tarzan had learned in the Orient. It sent Wilson to his knees.
Talent had recovered enough to pull a knife from his boot, and now he came at Tarzan, thrusting. Tarzan sidestepped, caught the man's arm, swung under it, and pinned Talent in a hammerlock. He switched his grip and spun away from Talent, still holding the arm. Suddenly, Tarzan pulled it, as if the black man's arm was something he was about to toss over his shoulder. The move was so swift, sharp, and violent, that Talent's elbow snapped, the shoulder popped free, and his clavicle shattered. By the time Tarzan let go of him and turned to kick Wilson- who was trying to rise-full in the face with the ball of his foot. Talent was lying on the ground in a heap, his destroyed arm wriggling like a snake with a spear through it. Before the arm stopped its movements. Talent was dead of shock and Wilson was out from the kick to his face.
Tarzan turned to see Jad-bal-ja standing with both paws on Gromvitch's arms, pinning him to the ground. The terrified man lay trembling, looking up into Jad-bal-ja's snarling face, the lion's saliva dripped down on him. "Don't let him hurt me," he said.
Tarzan glanced up to see the safari was gawking at him, shocked. Everything had happened in less time than anyone could have thought possible. Now, with the action finished, Tarzan staring at them, his lion holding down its prey as if deciding which cut of meat it would consume first, they concluded they were next, and sta rted to flee into the jungle.
"Stay where you are," Tarzan ordered. "I am not your enemy. I am from Hanson and his daughter Jean."
The bearers stopped their flight, but seemed ready to fade into the jungle at a moment's notice. "Hanson," said one the askari.
"Yes," Tarzan said. "Hanson."
Tarzan bent and took the gun from Gromvitch's hand, not that it might do Gromvitch any good with Jad-bal-ja's large paw holding his arm flat against the ground. Tarzan spoke again to the askaris and the bearers, speaking in their language.
"Hanson's bearers will pack up everything that belongs to him, and I will lead you back to his camp. Hanson's askaris will come over here, and guard these two men."
The bearers moved now with enthusiasm-all but Hanson's four askaris. They came forward slowly, for they were afraid of the lion. Tarzan understood and spoke to Jad-bal-ja. The lion strolled off a short distance, sat on its haunches, watching, awaiting his master's orders.
Tarzan turned Gromvitch over to an askari, a little man with a jaw that had been broken and grown back crooked. He had a lump on the right side of his face, like a frog hiding under a blanket. "If he makes trouble or tries to escape, kill him,"
Tarzan said. "I hope he tries to escape," said the askari. "I will whip him first, shoot his toes off, then cut his hands slow and all over, and maybe, when all the blood is out of him, I will cut his throat."
Tarzan stepped over to where Cannon lay. The man was still breathing. He would be out awhile. "Tie him up," Tarzan said to the askari with the lump. "Make sure he is completely unarmed." Tarzan waved a hand at Wilson. "And tie that one up, quickly. I believe he will come around soon."
"What about the other one?" asked another of the askaris.
Tarzan glanced at where Talent lay. "Being tied or untied is exactly the same to him."
"Do we bury him?" asked the askari.
"The animals will see that he has a funeral crowd," Tarzan said.
The askari who had asked the question grinned, turned, saw Jad bal-ja watching him. He stopped grinning.
"Do not be afraid of the lion," Tarzan said to the askari. "He will attack no one in this camp unless I tell him to. Take all the weapons from these men's askaris and bearers. Tell them they may come with us if they wish, or stay. Tell them that if any of them feel loyal to these men and do not wish to go with us, and should they attempt to follow us or rescue them, I will kill them."
"Anyone loyal to these men can be taken care of right now," said the askari.
"Let us do it my way," Tarzan said.
The askari, disappointed, nodded, and went to do as Tarzan had suggested. Hanson's bearers made quick work of repacking the loads and relieving Wilson's safari of its weapons and ammunition, but the sun was very low when they had completed their work and were formed in a single file, ready to march. None of Wilson's safari had remained loyal.
"We will need to march all night," Tarzan said. "I will march at the head with the lion. Hanson's askaris will carry rifles and bring up the rear. There is to be no straggling. Start out. I will catch up momentarily."
Hanson's bearers were happy. They talked and joked. Sometimes they sang. Eventually, realizing they were not going to be slain, Wilson's bearers joined in the festivities; they had been under Cannon's whip long enough to doubly appreciate the humane treatment they had received at the hands of Tarzan of the Apes-a living legend of the jungle. They began to move down the trail.
Wilson, Cannon, and Gromvitch were tied, hands and feet, sitting on the ground in the middle of the trail. Wilson and Cannon had come around, but they still had confusion in their eyes.
Tarzan squatted down beside them. He removed the spear from his back and used the blade to cut them free. "Start for the coast, get out of Africa," he said. "And don't come back."
"But we haven't got a safari," Gromvitch said. "You've got to leave us food, some weapons."
"No, I do not," Tarzan said.
"Next time," Wilson said, rubbing his blood-starved wrists where the bonds had held him, "maybe we can tango a little longer. I like to think you got lucky."
"Think all you want," said Tarzan. "But do not cross my path again, or I will kill you."
Tarzan turned then and trotted after the safari.
Cannon rubbed the back of his aching head as he stood. "Man, I think maybe he dropped that whole tree on me... You know, there's some guys you don't like, then there's guys you really don't like. That guy, I like less than either of them."
"Yeah," Gromvitch said, shaking his legs out as he stood. "Me too. How we gonna bury Talent? We ain't got no shovels or stuff."
"You heard the wild man," Wilson said moving toward the jungle. "Animals will take care of him. Right now, what we got to do is get those guns I hid. And get that safari back."
"Oh yeah," Cannon said with a smile. "Wilson, I take my hat off to you. You was thinking ahead... That wild man, he ain't so smart as he thought, is he?"
THE great apes of the tribe of Zu-yad, the king, moved about in the early morning searching for food. Grubs. Nuts. Berries. Whatever came their way. They moved silently through the jungle, examining holes in trees, overturning logs, prowling the branches for nests of bird eggs.
Zu-yad was feasting on an egg one of the tribe had brought him, when he smelled smoke, a sign of the tarmangani. His dark nostrils flared. Yes, he could smell the tarmangani as well. A male and a female. He licked his yoke-stained lips, gave a short, soft bark to his tribe, and they went still. All except Go-lot. Go-lot, a young bull of the tribe, purposely made a bit of noise before coming to rest. Zu-yad eyed him long and hard.
Day by day. Go-lot was becoming bolder. In time, Zu-yad knew he would have to deal with him, lest Go-lot take over his position as king. Dealing with Go-lot was not something Zu-yad wished to think about. Go-lot was younger than he, and strong. And in the end, strength, not wisdom, would decide who was king.
r />
But for now, this day, this moment. Zu-yad was king.
Zu-yad moved like a shadow through the brush, climbed into a thick-limbed tree and spied down on the two tarmangani. Zu-yad's tribe moved carefully forward, watching unseen from the brush.
Hanson was rebuilding his fire. Jean was cutting some flesh from the carcass of the antelope with the knife Tarzan had left her. She was scrunching up her face, holding the meat away from her as she cut. "This stuff is starting to smell like your socks," she said. "Then again, you always did like your meat aged, didn't you. Dad?"
"Aged," Hanson said, dropping small sticks onto the fire. "Not ripe. If our wild man doesn't return pretty soon we'll have to go back to nuts and fruit."
"I'm willing," Jean said. "Another day of this, and we'll be poisoned."
"He's been gone a week," said Hanson. "Those scoundrels probably killed him."
Jean pulled a strip of meat free from the carcass, and said, "I think he might be more of a challenge to them than you think. He was traveling very fast by the trees. Like a monkey. If he's returning with
the safari by foot, having to slow down to bring them here, well, it could take awhile."
"Could be," Hanson said, coughing from the smoke. "But I doubt it. Seems to me, now that we've regained our strength from the meat he left, we should consider smoke-drying some of it, and heading out."
"Our water is almost gone," Jean said.
"I think we'll have to chance a spring," Hanson said. "Things will only turn worse if we stay here. It's not like water is going to come our way while we wait."
Zu-yad, watching from the tree, appraised them. He sniffed the air. They were alone, and he neither saw nor smelled the sticks that belched smoke, that thundered and killed. The apes of Zu-yad were not naive. They had met tarmangani before.
From the concealment of the brush. Go-lot watched the tarmangani curiously. He knew of them, but he had only seen them before from a great distance. It was a great prize and status symbol to have a tarmangani slave. It had only been thus a few times-Zu-yad had owned two- and of course the slaves did not last long-but it was still prestigious, and Go-lot wanted this female for his slave. A tarmangani slave would give him prestige in his ongoing attempt to become king. But he was still a little afraid of old Zu-yad. He felt that his youth would give him the edge on the elder king, but he could not quite will himself to challenge Zu-yad. Perhaps, if he waited, a more opportune moment would present itself. Already, many of the tribe were looking to him, following his lead, and in time, when he had gained their complete confidence, then, and only then, he would strike at Zu-yad and claim his position as leader of the tribe.
Go-lot moved forward, and, as though it were a signal, the other apes did likewise. For the first time they made real noise-a rustling of the undergrowth through which they moved. At the same moment Zu-yad shot Go-lot and the tribe an angry look, the sound attracted Jean's attention. She looked up, hoping to spy Tarzan. What she saw pushing through the brush was Go-lot, and behind him the tribe of Zu-yad.
"Oh, hell," Jean said. "And us without a camera."
But what she thought as the apes rushed forward was: "Oh, hell, and us without a gun."
AT THE MOMENT the apes burst forth from the brush and Jean spoke, Hanson looked up from the fire and saw what he had been looking for. The man- apes of Africa. They were huge beasts, more gorilla than man, but not quite either. If ever there was a direct link between man and ape, this was it. Hanson, because of his anthropological background, knew all this at a glance; from the way some of them chose to stand upright, to the size and shape of their craniums. A hundred little things.
But upon seeing them, realizing who they were, the enthusiasm he thought to have for such a discovery vanished. The man-apes sprang forward, beating their chests, running on their hind legs, and as Hanson grabbed Jean's wrist and pulled her away from the carcass she was carving, the creatures took to all fours and came springing after them.
Go-lot, ahead of his fellows, pursued the two and decided Jean was the one he wanted. Something about the way her hair flashed in the sunlight, the fact that she was easier to reach than Hanson, made his decision.
Hanson, glancing over his shoulder, saw Go-lot groping for Jean, and he swung around behind her and struck a hard right at Go-lot's jaw. It was a good blow, and Go-lot felt it, but it was as if he had been bitten by a stinging fly. He backhanded Hanson, sent him tumbling off the trail and into the brush like a tumbleweed.
Jean whirled then, the expression on her face like that of a wild
beast. She still held Tarzan's great knife, and she thrust it at Go-lot. But Go-lot turned, and as he did, the blade sliced along his leathery stomach. Though it brought blood, it was not a straight contact wound; it only angered the beast. He slapped the knife from Jean's hand and grabbed her. He tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of meal and bolted into the jungle.
Behind Go-lot, worked into a frenzy, Zu-yad's tribe pursued him, anxious to examine his prize. Zu-yad, angry, and slower, followed. He passed where Hanson lay, eyeballed him, but left him there. If the prize had not been good enough for Go-lot, then he would leave it. To assure his position in the tribe, he would have to take the female tarmangani from Go-lot. If not, his time as king had come to an end. And so had his life.
Hanson struggled to his feet. The blow that Go-lot had struck him had nearly put his lights out, for good. He felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. He glanced in the direction the apes were taking, and he could see that one of the brutes had Jean slung over his shoulder, and he was bounding into the brush, followed by a horde of other apes, one of them bringing up the rear and making poor time. A moment later, all the apes, and Jean, were out of sight.
Hanson's heart sank. He looked about for some sort of weapon, snatched a broken branch from the ground, and set off in pursuit of Go- lot.
The day was still young when Tarzan arrived with the safari at the location where he had left Hanson and jean. While Jad-bal-ja raced about sniffing the ground excitedly, Tarzan read the very recent events of the morning with his nose and eyes. Hanson and Jean's scent spoor were still fresh, and also that of a number of great apes.
Near the edge of the trail, Tarzan found his knife and the tracks of great apes, a man, and a woman. There was dried blood on the blade. Tarzan smelled the blood. It was that of a great ape. Since there was no pool or gush of blood on the ground, or in the brush, he determined mat the wound had been a minor one, and from the way the tracks looked, it had probably been delivered by the woman, Jean.
Tarzan sniffed about until he found where Hanson had been thrown. He determined Hanson had followed after the apes, obviously in pursuit of his captive daughter. Tarzan snorted. "Good man." But he had about as much chance against the apes as a baby might, wrestling a crocodile.
Tarzan returned the huge knife to its sheath and took one of the askaris aside. The one with the lump on his jaw. A man who went by the name of Billy because he had found his name too difficult for foreigners to pronounce. And since he made his living being hired as a guide and askari, he wanted to be remembered, even if it meant changing his name.
Tarzan trusted him. His trust was based on the way Billy had handled his duties on the trail and in camp, and it was also based on Tarzan's instinct. Having lived more with beasts than with men, Tarzan had learned to observe men carefully, and therefore understood them even better than their fellows.
"Billy. Stay here and make camp," Tarzan told him. "I am uncertain when I will return. If I do not return within a few days, go to your homes and divide the supplies amongst you as a reward for your and the bearers' service-both Hanson's bearers, and the others. If you should decide to leave when I am out of your sight and divide the goods, I will hunt you down and make things most unpleasant for you."
"I do not work that way," Billy said.
"I did not think you did," Tarzan said. "And you must pardon my bluntness. I am rarely among men, and when I am among them, I always fe
el it is too long."
"No offense taken. Until you walked into that camp back there, I thought you were nothing more than legend. As soon as I saw you, and
that lion, I knew who you were. I have known men who claim to have seen
you, but I thought them liars. Now I will be thought a liar."
Tarzan almost grinned. "Take care, Billy."
Tarzan turned, and with Jad-bal-ja at his heels, he raced into the jungle, hot on the recent trail of Hanson, Jean, and the great apes.
Jungle, brush, limbs, vines, all of them seemed to work against Hanson. Thorns tore him, vines tripped him, limbs slapped his face. Then suddenly, he was aware of something behind him. He wheeled with the stick ready to strike, and was shocked to see a great lion in his path. And then he saw, standing slightly behind the lion, Tarzan.
Hanson eyed the lion, then Tarzan. Tarzan said, "Do not fear him. He is a friend. We are here to find your daughter."
"Thank God," Hanson said.
"Go back to camp-" ,
"No!" Hanson said.
"You must," Tarzan said. "I am more capable man you. You will slow us down. Go back to camp. Your bearer Billy is there, and the others. Go back to camp, and in time, I will join you with Jean."
"But-"
Tarzan was no longer interested in discussing the matter. He moved past Hanson swiftly, followed by the Hon. Hanson turned, determined at first to follow, but so rapidly had the ape-man and the lion taken to the jungle, there was no sign of them.
Hanson thought a moment. So far, the wild man had done all that he had promised. And there was no way he could keep up with him and the lion. He had no choice but to return to the safari and wait.
The other apes overtook Go-lot at the edge of a small open space where Go-lot stopped to rest. They reached out and touched Jean, to see if the nearly hairless tarmangani were real. She fought and struggled as best she could, but it was useless against the strength of the great apes. So persistent were they in their curiosity, Go-lot was forced to drop and straddle her, and face his fellows. He growled at them and beat his chest and cursed them in the language of the great apes. He whirled this way and that, snapping and biting the air, flicking foam from his lips.