"You are the Princess Guinalda?" he asked.
The girl nodded, wondering how he knew her. As yet she was too stunned to command her own voice.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Do not be afraid," he assured her in a gentle voice. "I am your friend. You are safe now."
There was something in the way he said it that filled Guinalda with such a sense of safety as all the mailed knights of her father's realm had scarce imparted.
"I am not afraid—any more," she said simply.
"Where are your companions?" he asked.
She told him all that had happened.
"You are well rid of them," said the ape-man, "and we shall not attempt to find them. The jungle will account for them in its own way and in its own good time."
"Who art thou?" asked the girl.
"I am Tarzan."
"How didst thou know my name?" she queried.
"I am a friend of one whom you know as Sir James," he explained. "He and I were searching for you."
"Thou art his friend?" she cried. "Oh, sweet sir, then thou art mine as well!"
The ape-man smiled. "Always!" he said.
"Why did the lion not kill thee, Sir Tarzan?" she demanded, thinking him a simple knight, for in her land there were only these beside the members of her princely house and the pseudo king of the City of the Sepulcher. For in the original company that had been wrecked upon the coast of Africa at the time of the Third Crusade there were only knights, except one bastard son of Henry II, who had been the original Prince Gobred. Never having been in contact with an English king since they parted from Richard at Cyprus Gobred had assumed the right to issue patents of nobility to his followers, solely the prerogative of the king.
"Why did the lion not kill me?" repeated Tarzan. "Because he is Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion, which I raised from cub-hood. All his life he has known me only as friend and master. He would not harm me and it was because of his lifelong association with human beings that he did not harm you; though I was fearful when I saw him beside you that he had—a lion is always a lion!"
"Thou dwellest nearby?" asked the girl.
"Far away," said Tarzan, "But there must be some of my people nearby, else Jad-bal-ja would not be here. I sent for my warriors and doubtless he has accompanied them."
Finding that the girl was hungry Tarzan bade the Golden Lion remain and guard her while he went in search of food.
"Do not fear him," he told her, "and remember that you could not have a protector more competent than he to discourage the approach of enemies."
"And well mayst I believe it," admitted Guinalda.
Tarzan returned with food and then, as the day was not done, he started back toward Nimmr with the rescued girl, carrying her, as she was now too weak to walk; and beside them strode the great, black-maned lion of gold.
During that journey Tarzan learned much of Nimmr and also discovered that Blake's love for his princess was apparently fully reciprocated by the girl, for she seemed never so content as when talking about her Sir James and asking questions concerning his far country and his past life, of which, unfortunately, Tarzan could tell her nothing.
Upon the second day the three came to the great cross and here Tarzan hailed the warders and bade them come and take their princess.
She urged the ape-man to accompany her to the castle and receive the thanks of her father and mother, but he told her that he must leave at once to search for Blake, and at that she ceased her urging.
"An' thou findst him," she said, "tell him that the gates of Nimmr be always open to him and that the Princess Guinalda awaits his return."
Down from the Cross went Tarzan and Jad-bal-ja and before she turned back to enter the tunnel that led to her father's castle the Princess Guinalda stood watching them until a turn in the trail hid them from her view.
"May Our Lord Jesus bless thee, sweet sir knight," she murmured, "and watch o'er thee and fetch thee back once more with my beloved!"
Chapter Twenty-Four
Where Trails Met
DOWN through the forest rode Blake searching for some clew to the whereabouts of the Arabs, ranging this way and that, following trails and abandoning them.
Late one day he came suddenly in to a large clearing where once a native village had stood. The jungle had not yet reclaimed it and as he entered it he saw a leopard crouching upon the far side, and before the leopard lay the body of a human being. At first Blake thought the poor creature dead, but presently he saw it attempt to rise and crawl away.
The great cat growled and advanced toward it. Blake shouted and spurred forward, but Sheeta paid no attention to him, evidently having no mind to give up its prey; but as Blake came nearer the cat turned to face him with an angry growl.
The American wondered if his horse would dare the close proximity of the beast of prey, but he need not have feared. Nor would he had he been more fully acquainted with the customs of the Valley of the Sepulcher, where one of the greatest sports of the knights of the two enemy cities is hunting the giant cats with lance alone when they venture from the sanctuary of the Wood of the Leopards.
The charger that Blake bestrode had faced many a savage cat, and larger, too, by far than this one, and so he fell into his charging stride with no show of fear or nervousness and the two thundered down upon Sheeta while the creature that was to have been its prey looked on with wide, astounded eyes.
Within the length of its spring Sheeta rose swiftly to meet the horse and man. He leaped and as he leaped he struck full on the metal tip of the great lance, and the wooden shaft passed through him so far that it was with difficulty that the man forced the carcass from it. When he had done so he turned and rode to the side of the creature lying helpless on the ground.
"My God!" he cried as his eyes rested on the face below him. "Stimbol!"
"Blake!"
The younger man dismounted.
"I'm dying, Blake," whispered Stimbol. "Before I go I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I acted like a cad. I guess I've got what was coming to me."
"Never mind that, Stimbol," said Blake. "You're not dead yet. The first thing is to get you where there are food and water." He stooped and lifted the emaciated form and placed the man in his saddle. "I passed a small native village a few miles back. They all ran when they saw me, but we'll try there for food."
"What are you doing here?" asked Stimbol. "And in the name of King Arthur, where did you get the outfit?"
"I'll tell you about it when we get to the village," said Blake. "It's a long story. I'm looking for a girl that was stolen by the Arabs a few days ago."
"God!" ejaculated Stimbol.
"You know something about her?" demanded Blake.
"I was with the man that stole her," said Stimbol, "or at least who stole her from the other Arabs."
"Where is she?"
"She's dead, Blake!"
"Dead?"
"A bunch of those big anthropoid apes got her. The poor child must have been killed immediately."
Blake was silent for a long time, walking with bowed head as, weighted down by heavy armor, he led the horse along the trail.
"Did the Arabs harm her?" he asked presently.
"No," said Stimbol. "The sheik stole her either for ransom or to sell her in the north, but Fahd stole her for himself. He took me along because I had promised him a lot of money if he'd save me, and I kept him from harming the girl by telling him that he'd never get a cent from me if he did. I felt sorry for the poor child and I made up my mind that I was going to save her if I could."
When Blake and Stimbol approached the village the blacks fled, leaving the white men in full possession of the place. It did not take Blake long to find food for them both.
Making Stimbol as comfortable as possible, Blake found fodder for his horse and presently returned to the old man. He was engaged in narrating his experiences when he was suddenly aware of the approach of many people. He could hear voic
es and the pad of naked feet. Evidently the villagers were returning.
Blake prepared to meet them with friendly overtures, but the first glimpse he had of the approaching party gave him a distinct shock, for these were not the frightened villagers he had seen scurrying into the jungle a short time before.
With white plumes waving about their heads a company of stalwart warriors came swinging down the trail. Great oval shields were upon their backs, long war spears in their hands.
"Well," said Blake, "I guess we're in for it. The villagers have sent for their big brothers."
The warriors entered the village and when they saw Blake they halted in evident wonder. One of their number approached him and to Blake's surprise addressed him in fairly good English.
"We are the Waziri of Tarzan," he said. "We search for our chief and master. Have you seen him, Bwana?"
The Waziri! Blake could have hugged them. He had been at his wits’ end to know what he was to do with Stimbol. Alone he never could have brought the man to civilization, but now he knew that his worries were over.
Had it not been for the grief of Blake and Zeyd, it had been a merry party that made free with the cassava and beer of the villagers that night, for the Waziri were not worrying about their chief.
"Tarzan cannot die," said the sub-chief to Blake, when the latter asked if the other felt any fear as to the safety of his master, and the simple conviction of the quiet words almost succeeded in convincing Blake of their truth.
Along the trail plodded the weary Aarab of the Beny Salem fendy el-Guad. Tired men staggered beneath the weight of half-loads. The women carried even more. Ibn Jad watched the treasure with greedy eyes. An arrow came from nowhere and pierced the heart of a treasure bearer close before Ibn Jad. A hollow voice sounded from the jungle: "For every jewel a drop of blood!"
Terrified, the Beduins hastened on. Who would be next? They wanted to cast aside the treasure, but Ibn Jad, greedy, would not let them. Behind them they caught a glimpse of a great lion. He terrified them because he did not come nearer or go away—he just stalked silently along behind. There were no stragglers.
An hour passed. The lion paced just within sight of the tail end of the column. Never had the head of one of Ibn Jad's columns been so much in demand. Everyone wished to go in the lead.
A scream burst from another treasure carrier. An arrow had passed through his lungs. "For every jewel a drop of blood!"
The men threw down the treasure. "We will not carry the accursed thing more!" they cried, and again the voice spoke.
"Take up the treasure, Ibn Jad!" it said. "Take up the treasure! It is thou who murdered to acquire it. Pick it up, thief and murderer, and carry it thyself!"
Together the Aarab made the treasure into one load and lifted it to Ibn Jad's back. The old sheik staggered beneath the weight.
"I cannot carry it!" he cried aloud. "I am old and I am not strong."
"Thou canst carry it, or—die!" boomed the hollow voice, while the lion stood in the trail behind them, his eyes glaring fixedly at them.
Ibn Jad staggered on beneath the great load. He could not now travel as fast as the others and so he was left behind with only the lion as company; but only for a short time. Ateja saw his predicament and came back to his side, bearing a musket in her hands.
"Fear not," she said, "I am not the son thou didst crave, but yet I shall protect thee even as a son!"
It was almost dusk when the leaders of the Beduin company stumbled upon a village. They were in it and surrounded by a hundred warriors before they realized that they were in the midst of the one tribe of all others they most feared and dreaded—the Waziri of Tarzan.
The sub-chief disarmed them at once.
"Where is Ibn Jad?" demanded Zeyd.
"He cometh!" said one.
They looked back along the trail and presently Zeyd saw two figures approaching. One was a man bent beneath a great load and the other was that of a young girl. What he did not see was the figure of a great lion in the shadows behind them.
Zeyd held his breath because, for an instant, his heart had stopped beating.
"Ateja!" he cried and ran forward to meet her and clasp her in his arms.
Ibn Jad staggered into the village. He took one look at the stern visages of the dread Waziri and sank weakly to the ground, the treasure almost burying him as it fell upon his head and shoulders.
Hirfa voiced a sudden scream as she pointed back along the trail, and as every eye turned in that direction, a great golden lion stepped into the circle of the firelight in the village, and at its side strode Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle.
As Tarzan entered the village Blake came forward and grasped his hand.
"We were too late!" said the American sadly.
"What do you mean?" asked the ape-man.
"The Princess Guinalda is dead!"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Tarzan. "I left her this morning at the entrance to the City of Nimmr ."
A dozen times Tarzan was forced to assure Blake that he was not playing a cruel joke upon him. A dozen times Tarzan had to repeat Guinalda's message: "An' thou findst him tell him that the gates of Nimmr be always open to him and that the Princess Guinalda awaits his return!"
Later in the evening Stimbol, through Blake, begged Tarzan to come to the hut in which he lay.
"Thank God!" exclaimed the old man fervently. "I thought that I had killed you. It has preyed on my mind and now I know that it was not you I believe that I can recover."
"You will be taken care of properly, Stimbol," said the ape-man, "and as soon as you are well enough you will be taken to the coast," then he walked away. He would do his duty by the man who had disobeyed him and tried to kill him, but he would not feign a friendship he did not feel.
The following morning they prepared to leave the village. Ibn Jad and his Arabs, with the exception of Zeyd and Ateja, who had asked to come and serve Tarzan in his home, were being sent to the nearest Galla village under escort of a dozen Waziri. Here they would be turned over to the Galla and doubtless sold into slavery in Abyssinia .
Stimbol was borne in a litter by four stout Waziri as the party prepared to take up its march toward the south and the country of Tarzan. Four others carried the treasure of the City of the Sepulcher.
Blake, dressed again in his iron mail, bestrode his great charger as the column started out of the village and down the trail into the south. Tarzan and the Golden Lion stood beside him. Blake reached down and extended his band to the ape-man.
"Good-bye, sir!" he said.
"Good-bye?" demanded Tarzan. "Aren't you coming home with us?"
Blake shook his head.
"No," he said, "I'm going back into the middle ages with the woman I love!"
Tarzan and Jad-bal-ja stood in the trail watching as Sir James rode out toward the City of Nimmr , the blue and silver of his pennon fluttering bravely from the iron tip of his great lance.
THE END
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Burroughs, Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle t-11
Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle t-11 Page 21