by J. T. Edson
Satisfied that she had averted the danger of being struck down by the man’s sword, Dawn lengthened her stride. With the sheath of the Randall knife slapping against her bare thigh, she built up her speed as if she had been sprinting for the finishing line in a foot-race. Conscious of her pursuers’ angry shouts, she reached the bushes. The mouth of the second game trail, towards which her evasion had allowed her to head, was barely wide enough for her to enter. With the foliage brushing her arms on either side, she knew that the Mun-Gatahs would not be able to ride in after her. On foot, she was sure that she could hold her own.
As Dawn had expected, the bushes were higher than the top of her head and the trail wound in such a fashion that she was soon hidden from the entrance. Moving on at a slower pace, she replenished her lungs and wiped the perspiration from her brow. She did not allow herself to grow over confident and she remained alert for any evidence that the pursuit was being continued.
Leaning over, without slackening his grar-gatah’s pace, the attendant scooped up his sword from where it had fallen, its point stuck in the ground. Then he made for the opening into which the girl had disappeared. The rest of his party were rapidly approaching but he ignored them. Seeing that there was no way of riding after her, he sprang from his saddle. He felt uneasy, for the girl had already passed out of sight and he had the Mun-Gatahs’ inborn distrust of thickly overgrown terrain. However, hatred overrode his other emotions and he plunged forward.
‘Warn him not to kill her, Sabart!’ Elidor ordered, being determined to fix the blame on the other woman if the attendant repeated his attempted disobedience of their leaders’ wishes.
‘Take her alive, Shami!’ Sabart shouted, knowing what had prompted the brunette’s words. ‘If you kill her, I’ll have you and all your family given to the Quagga God!’
For all the notice he took, the attendant might have been stone deaf. Without so much as a glance at his companions as they dashed up, he went along the track beyond their range of vision.
Bringing their banar-gatahs to a halt at the edge of the bushes, the two women gazed at the mouth of the track. They did not offer to dismount, but waited for their four male companions to join them.
‘Can you see anything of the girl, Elidor?’ asked the senior of the High Priest’s adherents, standing on his stirrups as he tried to peer over the bushes.
‘No, Mador,’ the brunette answered. ‘Charole’s man has gone in after her. If he catches her, he’ll kill her. Lord Dryaka doesn’t want her dead.’
‘I’ve tried shouting to him, but he’s so angry he won’t listen,’ Sabart protested petulantly and looked in a pointed fashion at the rival faction. ‘Somebody should go in and make him do as he’s told.’
‘He’s Charole’s man,’ Mador pointed out, the words having been aimed chiefly at him. ‘So if he kills her.’
‘He’s not likely to catch her in there, she’s used to that kind of country,’ Chanak answered, as leader of the Protectress’s faction. Like the other man, he did not relish the thought of entering the narrow trail. ‘We’d better go around and be waiting for her when she comes out.’
‘The bushes look as if they go for a fair way in each direction,’ Mador objected. ‘Even if she goes straight through, she’ll probably have left before we get to the other side.’
‘She’s not likely to stay in there, Shanu will drive her out even if he doesn’t catch her,’ Chanak countered. ‘I’m going around.’
‘We’ll leave a man each to watch this side, then the rest of us can split up and go around,’ Mador suggested. ‘Come on. She’ll get away for sure if we sit talking.’
With that, the High Priest’s male and female adherents turned to the right. Leaving their companion, Elidor and Mador rode off at a trot.
‘Stay here, Stafak!’ Chanak ordered, swinging his banar-gatah to the left.
‘I hope that fool doesn’t kill her,’ Sabart remarked, nodding towards the bushes as she and Chanak went along the edge. ‘But he will if he catches her. If that happens, none of them must get back alive to tell Dryaka about it.’
Walking swiftly along the trail, which was widening slightly, Dawn wondered what to do for the best. Clearly the Mun-Gatahs were determined to capture her. So they would come in after her, or try to prevent her from leaving until she was driven out by hunger and thirst. Most probably they would adopt the former alternative. The latter would take far too long and was likely to offer her too many opportunities to escape.
Even as she came to that conclusion, ±he girl heard certain significant sounds on the path behind her. Her bare feet made no noise, so she had little difficulty in detecting those made by a pursuer’s sandals.
One, or more?
Turning around, Dawn could not see whoever was following her. However, she decided it was only one man. Probably the eagle’s attendant. The expression of hatred on his face when he was trying to kill her from the back of his zebra suggested that he would not have given up because the attempt had failed.
Swinging around and walking on, Dawn placed her right hand on the Sambar staghorn ‘finger-grip’ handle of her Randall knife. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of taking cover and springing on the man as he went by. Then her civilized instincts revolted against such an act. Instead, she thought there might be another course of action that would serve her purpose.
While talking as they had walked to the stream, At-Vee had expressed much concern over Joar-Fane being alone in the land of the ‘Hairy People’. From his description, which she suspected might have been somewhat highly-colored regarding their bloodthirsty habits and ferocity, she believed that he was referring to the Mangani. He had claimed that all of his people feared them. That might apply even more to a nation of plains’ dwellers like the Mun-Gatah, provided they knew of the ‘Hairy People’ and were aware that they were very close to that mysterious race’s domain.
Deciding that she had nothing to lose by putting her idea to the test, for the man’s footsteps warned he was coming nearer, Dawn halted and tossed back her head. From her lips burst the distress cry of a she-Mangani. While the female’s call lacked the deep and awesome menace of a bull’s challenge or victory roars, it was still an ear-tingling and eerie sound.
Almost before the last note of Dawn’s call died away, nearly drowning the startled exclamation which came from very close behind her, she heard an explosive ‘whoof’ not far in front of her.
It was the sound made by a black rhinoceros that had been disturbed!
There was a crackling of broken foliage and the bushes ahead of Dawn were agitated violently as the huge beast lurched to its feet.
As its kind always did when surprised, disturbed or alarmed, the rhinoceros rushed forward. Pure chance directed it towards the girl. She knew that it was not making a deliberate charge, but merely trying to escape and avoid contact with whatever creature had caused the unexpected noise. For all that, its actions were just as dangerous as if it was meaning to attack her.
Despite the trail having widened slightly, Dawn knew that there was not sufficient room for her to spring aside at the last moment and allow the beast to blunder by. Nor would turning and running away by of any greater use. Even if the Mun-Gatah had not been blocking her retreat, the rhinoceros was capable of much greater speed than she could attain.
Chapter Eleven – They’ve Caught The Foreign Bitch!
Discarding the idea of flight, Dawn took the only action which was left to her. Darting forward as if to meet the onrushing black rhinoceros, she watched until its head dropped ready to hook up at her. Timing the move perfectly, she leapt high into the air. Spreading her legs apart, she passed over the long anterior horn as it jerked upwards. Her hands slapped on to the huge beast’s back and helped to thrust her onwards almost as if she was playing leapfrog. Aided by her own and the animal’s forward momentum, she was propelled over its rump to land on the ground.
There was a startled yell from somewhere to the girl’s rear as she ran forward
the few steps needed to let her regain her equilibrium. Another furious snort burst from the rhinoceros, followed by a piercing and agony-filled human scream. Having recovered control of her movements, she came to a halt and spun around. She found that the eagle’s attendant must have dashed around the curve of the game trail and straight into the path of the enormous animal.
Having missed the first object of its wrath, the rhinoceros did not bother to differentiate between Dawn and the Mun-Gatah. Instead, its horn had been lowered and snapped upwards with all its might. Taking him between the thighs, the solid mass of hard-packed fibers sank into the man’s body. Blood gushed from the wound as he was thrown over the animal’s head. Although he landed on and bounced helplessly from the beast’s back, the rhinoceros did not attempt to turn. Instead, it continued to rush straight ahead, shattering a way through the undergrowth as though the foliage did not exist.
Dawn looked at the man and knew that he was beyond any human aid. Then she glanced around in the hope of locating his sword. As its scabbard was empty, he must have been carrying the weapon. In which case, as it was nowhere to be seen, it must have left his hand when he was tossed and landed among the bushes. Concluding that trying to find it would be a waste of time, she turned and walked onwards.
On reaching the fringe of the bushes, after having had to wind about due to the vagaries of the trail, Dawn paused to survey her surroundings before emerging. She looked to the right without finding anything to disturb her. However, as her gaze turned in the opposite direction, she discovered that the smaller of the women and one of the men were sitting their zebras about two hundred yards away. They had either found a way through, or had passed around the end of the bushes and were now scanning the edge in search of her.
Deciding that she had not decoyed her pursuers far enough away from the injured Telonga hunter, Dawn ignored her first impulse to withdraw into the comparative safety of the bushes. Instead, she walked out in a cautious manner. It would, she hoped, lead the couple to believe that she was unaware of their presence. The land ahead was still fairly open. However, beyond a small stream which she suspected might be the one that had supplied the means to bandage At-Vee’s sprained ankle, the trees began to grow more closely together.
‘There she is!’ shrieked the woman. ‘Mador! Elidor! She’s between us!’
‘Stupid bitch!’ Dawn thought, as the excited words reached her ears.
Chanak was uttering a similar sentiment, although—because of his companion’s relationship with the Protectress of the Quagga God—he too did not put it into words. What annoyed him was the fact that Sabart’s shout would do more than just warn the foreign girl that she had been seen. It would also bring the High Priest’s adherents onto the scene. They had not yet come into sight at the other end of the bushes and, but for Sabart’s stupidity, might not have appeared until after the quarry had been captured.
Acting as she believed the Mun-Gatahs would expect of her, Dawn started to run. She had already gained some ground on her pursuers. So she went at a swift lope which would allow her to carry on for a long distance, or to increase speed if necessary. Hearing the sound of hooves and voices to her right, she chanced a glance in that direction. At a somewhat greater distance than the small woman and her companion, the brunette and another of the men were turning from around the end of the bushes.
Coming to the stream, Dawn built up her speed and leapt across. On landing, she continued to run. Weaving through the trees, she found that she could hear enough to make it unnecessary to look back at her pursuers. They were coming closer, but not sufficiently so for her to feel any alarm. In fact, if the cursing which occasionally reached her ears meant anything, now they had passed over the stream, the men were finding increasing difficulty in moving through the denser growth.
Having covered about another quarter of a mile, Dawn decided that she had created enough of a diversion. The terrain was becoming more densely overgrown and she guessed that she must be approaching the transitory zone between the woodland and the jungle. If the Mun-Gatahs lost her, they might be disinclined to continue the search. Living as they did on the open plains, they could even be afraid of getting lost if they penetrated any deeper into such an alien environment. In which case, they would most likely take the easiest way out and return along their tracks. If so, they would miss finding any trace of her meeting with At-Vee and she would have achieved her purpose.
Fortune appeared to be continuing to smile on Dawn. Ahead, a tree had started to fall for some reason. It had been prevented from doing so by its crown having become entangled with the foliage of a neighbor. Leaning at an angle, it offered her the means by which she could travel as she had been taught—and had frequently practiced—in her tomboy childhood. What was more, although at least some of her pursuers were fairly close, a glance to her rear informed her that she was hidden from their view. In which case, she ought to be able to make a complete disappearance.
Alert for shouts, or anything else that would suggest she had been seen, Dawn ran up the inclined trunk. She went with the agility of a cat, but was not sorry that she had left her bow and quiver of arrows with At-Vee. Useful as they undoubtedly would have been if it had come to a fight, they would have made climbing and the mode of progression that she was contemplating very difficult. On reaching the branches of the supporting tree without having heard anything to disturb her, she prepared to continue her flight in a way which she felt sure would baffle the Mun-Gatahs. Even if she could not go very far, she believed it would suffice for her needs.
As always when about to start travelling through the branches, Dawn found herself thinking with wry amusement of how this particular activity had invariably been portrayed in the fictitious movies about Tarzan. If she could only find a succession of conveniently positioned vines, everything would be so much easier. Unfortunately that mode of passage through the trees had never existed outside a movie production unit’s sets. xxxiv
With the thought come and gone, for she would need all her wits about her, the girl ran along a sturdy branch until she felt it bending under her weight. While doing so, she studied the nearest tree and selected a suitable place to alight. Then, making use of the bough’s springiness, she leapt forward. On arriving in the next tree, she deftly regained her balance and darted to its trunk. Mounting higher, she picked out a limb which would allow her to reach the foliage of the neighboring tree.
Although effective in allowing Dawn to move without leaving tracks on the ground, her passage through the lower terraces of the jungle was of necessity a noisy process. She had to crash through the leaves, breaking twigs and small branches to attain a safe point of arrival. So she stopped in the third tree and found a position from which she could see the ground.
From all appearances, the two parties had not yet come together. While the smaller woman and her companion were already passing the partially fallen tree, there was no sign of the second couple. Dawn found that she could see the first pair and, although she could not hear what they were saying, guessed that they had been attracted by the noise she had been making as she moved onwards through the branches. They were staring upwards, paying more attention to the foliage than the ground. The man had either lost, or discarded, his lance, for he no longer had it with him. The woman was looking nervously upwards, alternating the scrutiny with glances darted from side to side at the bushes and tree trunks.
Passing around the bole of the tree, Dawn found that it was on the edge of a small clearing. Measuring the distance to be crossed, she decided that she ought to be able to leap over. There was a convenient, sturdy branch that she could catch hold of and, by using simple brachiation, swing from it to a more secure perch.
After a moment’s thought, the girl considered that the chance might be worth taking. Once in the other tree, she would give the distress call of a she-Mangani. There was just a slight chance that Bunduki would hear and identify it. In which case, he would come as quickly as possible to her aid. Even if he
did not, the cry might serve a useful purpose. From the look of the woman, she was already nervous. Hearing the far from pleasant scream emanating out of the foliage, she and her companions might be frightened into turning back.
Once again utilizing the resilience of the branch along which she was advancing as a means of added propulsion, Dawn threw herself forward and up as if diving from a spring board. As she was flying through the air, she thrust her arms ahead of her. Just before her hands—with the fingers bent and the thumbs tucked in out of the way—came into contact with the branch, she saw a slight movement on it.
It was a snake!
Dawn did not have any unreasoning fear of reptiles, but she had a very sensible caution regarding some of them. She knew that out of the 2,300 species of living snakes, divided into twelve families, only about a third were poisonous to a greater or lesser degree. Of those which were venomous, a mere seven-per-cent were capable of causing death to a human being. However, despite the odds favoring the snake being harmless, she felt disinclined to take the chance. Nor could she prevent the involuntary withdrawal of her left hand, which would have descended on to the reptile.
Although the girl’s right fingers hooked over the branch clear of the snake, she had been thrown off balance. Swinging by the one arm, she felt her grasp slipping. Then her head struck the limb a glancing blow, but it was sufficient to stun her. Losing her hold, she toppled into the denser foliage below her. It began to bend under her limp and unresisting weight.