Tarzan of the Apes
of the column; and such was the fact, for they were fleeing from the
white man’s soldiers who had so harassed them for rubber and ivory that
they had turned upon their conquerors one day and massacred a white
officer and a small detachment of his black troops.
For many days they had gorged themselves on meat, but eventually a
stronger body of troops had come and fallen upon their village by night
to revenge the death of their comrades.
That night the black soldiers of the white man had had meat a-plenty,
and this little remnant of a once powerful tribe had slunk off into the
gloomy jungle toward the unknown, and freedom.
But that which meant freedom and the pursuit of happiness to these
savage blacks meant consternation and death to many of the wild
denizens of their new home.
For three days the little cavalcade marched slowly through the heart of
this unknown and untracked forest, until finally, early in the fourth
day, they came upon a little spot near the banks of a small river,
which seemed less thickly overgrown than any ground they had yet
encountered.
Here they set to work to build a new village, and in a month a great
clearing had been made, huts and palisades erected, plantains, yams and
maize planted, and they had taken up their old life in their new home.
Here there were no white men, no soldiers, nor any rubber or ivory to
be gathered for cruel and thankless taskmasters.
Several moons passed by ere the blacks ventured far into the territory
surrounding their new village. Several had already fallen prey to old
Sabor, and because the jungle was so infested with these fierce and
bloodthirsty cats, and with lions and leopards, the ebony warriors
hesitated to trust themselves far from the safety of their palisades.
But one day, Kulonga, a son of the old king, Mbonga, wandered far into
the dense mazes to the west. Warily he stepped, his slender lance ever
ready, his long oval shield firmly grasped in his left hand close to
his sleek ebony body.
At his back his bow, and in the quiver upon his shield many slim,
straight arrows, well smeared with the thick, dark, tarry substance
that rendered deadly their tiniest needle prick.
Night found Kulonga far from the palisades of his father’s village, but
still headed westward, and climbing into the fork of a great tree he
fashioned a rude platform and curled himself for sleep.
Three miles to the west slept the tribe of Kerchak.
Early the next morning the apes were astir, moving through the jungle
in search of food. Tarzan, as was his custom, prosecuted his search in
the direction of the cabin so that by leisurely hunting on the way his
stomach was filled by the time he reached the beach.
The apes scattered by ones, and twos, and threes in all directions, but
ever within sound of a signal of alarm.
Kala had moved slowly along an elephant track toward the east, and was
busily engaged in turning over rotted limbs and logs in search of
succulent bugs and fungi, when the faintest shadow of a strange noise
brought her to startled attention.
For fifty yards before her the trail was straight, and down this leafy
tunnel she saw the stealthy advancing figure of a strange and fearful
creature.
It was Kulonga.
Kala did not wait to see more, but, turning, moved rapidly back along
the trail. She did not run; but, after the manner of her kind when not
aroused, sought rather to avoid than to escape.
Close after her came Kulonga. Here was meat. He could make a killing
and feast well this day. On he hurried, his spear poised for the throw.
At a turning of the trail he came in sight of her again upon another
straight stretch. His spear hand went far back, the muscles rolled,
lightning-like, beneath the sleek hide. Out shot the arm, and the spear
sped toward Kala.
A poor cast. It but grazed her side.
With a cry of rage and pain the she-ape turned upon her tormentor. In
an instant the trees were crashing beneath the weight of her hurrying
fellows, swinging rapidly toward the scene of trouble in answer to
Kala’s scream.
As she charged, Kulonga unslung his bow and fitted an arrow with almost
unthinkable quickness. Drawing the shaft far back he drove the poisoned
missile straight into the heart of the great anthropoid.
With a horrid scream Kala plunged forward upon her face before the
astonished members of her tribe.
Roaring and shrieking the apes dashed toward Kulonga, but that wary
savage was fleeing down the trail like a frightened antelope.
He knew something of the ferocity of these wild, hairy men, and his one
desire was to put as many miles between himself and them as he possibly
could.
They followed him, racing through the trees, for a long distance, but
finally one by one they abandoned the chase and returned to the scene
of the tragedy.
None of them had ever seen a man before, other than Tarzan, and so they
wondered vaguely what strange manner of creature it might be that had
invaded their jungle.
On the far beach by the little cabin Tarzan heard the faint echoes of
the conflict and knowing that something was seriously amiss among the
tribe he hastened rapidly toward the direction of the sound.
When he arrived he found the entire tribe gathered jabbering about the
dead body of his slain mother.
Tarzan’s grief and anger were unbounded. He roared out his hideous
challenge time and again. He beat upon his great chest with his
clenched fists, and then he fell upon the body of Kala and sobbed out
the pitiful sorrowing of his lonely heart.
To lose the only creature in all his world who ever had manifested love
and affection for him was the greatest tragedy he had ever known.
What though Kala was a fierce and hideous ape! To Tarzan she had been
kind, she had been beautiful.
Upon her he had lavished, unknown to himself, all the reverence and
respect and love that a normal English boy feels for his own mother. He
had never known another, and so to Kala was given, though mutely, all
that would have belonged to the fair and lovely Lady Alice had she
lived.
After the first outburst of grief Tarzan controlled himself, and
questioning the members of the tribe who had witnessed the killing of
Kala he learned all that their meager vocabulary could convey.
It was enough, however, for his needs. It told him of a strange,
hairless, black ape with feathers growing upon its head, who launched
death from a slender branch, and then ran, with the fleetness of Bara,
the deer, toward the rising sun.
Tarzan waited no longer, but leaping into the branches of the trees
sped rapidly through the forest. He knew the windings of the elephant
trail along which Kala’s murderer had flown, and so he cut straight
through the jungle to intercept the black warrior who was evidently
following the tortuous detours of the trail.
At his side was the hunting knife of his unknown sire, and across his
shoulders the coils of his own long rope. In an hour he struck the
trail again, and coming to earth examined the soil minutely.
In the soft mud on the bank of a tiny rivulet he found footprints such
as he alone in all the jungle had ever made, but much larger than his.
His heart beat fast. Could it be that he was trailing a MAN—one of his
own race?
There were two sets of imprints pointing in opposite directions. So his
quarry had already passed on his return along the trail. As he examined
the newer spoor a tiny particle of earth toppled from the outer edge of
one of the footprints to the bottom of its shallow depression—ah, the
trail was very fresh, his prey must have but scarcely passed.
Tarzan swung himself to the trees once more, and with swift
noiselessness sped along high above the trail.
He had covered barely a mile when he came upon the black warrior
standing in a little open space. In his hand was his slender bow to
which he had fitted one of his death dealing arrows.
Opposite him across the little clearing stood Horta, the boar, with
lowered head and foam flecked tusks, ready to charge.
Tarzan looked with wonder upon the strange creature beneath him—so like
him in form and yet so different in face and color. His books had
portrayed the _negro_, but how different had been the dull, dead print
to this sleek thing of ebony, pulsing with life.
As the man stood there with taut drawn bow Tarzan recognized him not so
much the _negro_ as the _Archer_ of his picture book—
A stands for Archer
How wonderful! Tarzan almost betrayed his presence in the deep
excitement of his discovery.
But things were commencing to happen below him. The sinewy black arm
had drawn the shaft far back; Horta, the boar, was charging, and then
the black released the little poisoned arrow, and Tarzan saw it fly
with the quickness of thought and lodge in the bristling neck of the
boar.
Scarcely had the shaft left his bow ere Kulonga had fitted another to
it, but Horta, the boar, was upon him so quickly that he had no time to
discharge it. With a bound the black leaped entirely over the rushing
beast and turning with incredible swiftness planted a second arrow in
Horta’s back.
Then Kulonga sprang into a near-by tree.
Horta wheeled to charge his enemy once more; a dozen steps he took,
then he staggered and fell upon his side. For a moment his muscles
stiffened and relaxed convulsively, then he lay still.
Kulonga came down from his tree.
With a knife that hung at his side he cut several large pieces from the
boar’s body, and in the center of the trail he built a fire, cooking
and eating as much as he wanted. The rest he left where it had fallen.
Tarzan was an interested spectator. His desire to kill burned fiercely
in his wild breast, but his desire to learn was even greater. He would
follow this savage creature for a while and know from whence he came.
He could kill him at his leisure later, when the bow and deadly arrows
were laid aside.
When Kulonga had finished his repast and disappeared beyond a near
turning of the path, Tarzan dropped quietly to the ground. With his
knife he severed many strips of meat from Horta’s carcass, but he did
not cook them.
He had seen fire, but only when Ara, the lightning, had destroyed some
great tree. That any creature of the jungle could produce the
red-and-yellow fangs which devoured wood and left nothing but fine dust
surprised Tarzan greatly, and why the black warrior had ruined his
delicious repast by plunging it into the blighting heat was quite
beyond him. Possibly Ara was a friend with whom the Archer was sharing
his food.
But, be that as it may, Tarzan would not ruin good meat in any such
foolish manner, so he gobbled down a great quantity of the raw flesh,
burying the balance of the carcass beside the trail where he could find
it upon his return.
And then Lord Greystoke wiped his greasy fingers upon his naked thighs
and took up the trail of Kulonga, the son of Mbonga, the king; while in
far-off London another Lord Greystoke, the younger brother of the real
Lord Greystoke’s father, sent back his chops to the club’s _chef_
because they were underdone, and when he had finished his repast he
dipped his finger-ends into a silver bowl of scented water and dried
them upon a piece of snowy damask.
All day Tarzan followed Kulonga, hovering above him in the trees like
some malign spirit. Twice more he saw him hurl his arrows of
destruction—once at Dango, the hyena, and again at Manu, the monkey. In
each instance the animal died almost instantly, for Kulonga’s poison
was very fresh and very deadly.
Tarzan thought much on this wondrous method of slaying as he swung
slowly along at a safe distance behind his quarry. He knew that alone
the tiny prick of the arrow could not so quickly dispatch these wild
things of the jungle, who were often torn and scratched and gored in a