The Complete Tarzan Collection

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  "A machine gun has its possibilities," said the ape-man, with the flicker of a smile.

  "They had you in a bad spot, mister," remarked the "Gunner."

  "I think I should have gotten out all right," replied Tarzan, "but I thank you none the less. How did you happen to be here?"

  "I been looking for my sidekick, and I happened to see you go over the edge here. Obambi here, tipped me off that you was the guy saved me from the lion,—so I was glad to step for you."

  "You are looking for whom?"

  "My sidekick, Smith."

  "Where is he?"

  "I wouldn't be lookin' for him if I knew. He's went and lost himself. Been gone since yesterday afternoon."

  "Tell me the circumstances," said Tarzan, "perhaps I can help you."

  "That's what I was goin' to ask you," said the "Gunner." "I know my way around south of Madison Street, but out here I'm just a punk. I ain't got no idea where to look for him. Geeze, take a slant at them mountains. You might as well try to meet a guy at the corner of Oak and Polk as hunt for him there. I'll tell you how it happened," and then he briefly narrated all that was known of the disappearance of Lafayette Smith.

  "Was he armed?" asked the ape-man.

  "He thought he was."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He packed a shiny toy pistol, what if anybody ever shot me with it, and I found it out, I'd turn him over my knee and spank him."

  "It might serve him in getting food," said Tarzan, "and that will be of more importance to him than anything else. He's not in much danger, except from men and starvation. Where's your camp?"

  Danny nodded toward the south. "Back there about a thou sand miles," he said.

  "You'd better go to it and remain there where he can find you if he can make his way back to it, and where I can find you if I locate him."

  "I want to help you hunt for him. He's a good guy, even if he is legitimate."

  "I can move faster alone," replied the ape-man. "If you start out looking for him I'll probably have to find you, too."

  The "Gunner" grinned. "I guess you ain't so far off, at that," he replied. "All right, I'll beat it for camp and wait there for you. You know where our camp is at?"

  "I'll find out," replied Tarzan and turned to Obambi to whom he put a few questions in the native Bantu dialect of the black. Then he turned again to the "Gunner." "I know where your camp is now. Watch out for these fellows from that village, and don't let your men wander very far from the protection of your machine gun."

  "Why," demanded Danny, "what are them guys?"

  "They are robbers, murderers, and slave raiders," replied Tarzan.

  "Geeze," exclaimed the "Gunner," "they's rackets even in Africa, ain't they?"

  "I do not know what a racket is," replied the ape-man, "but there is crime wherever there are men, and nowhere else." He turned then, without word of parting, and started upward toward the mountains.

  "Geeze!" muttered the "Gunner." "That guy ain't so crazy about men."

  "What, bwana?" asked Obambi.

  "Shut up," admonished Danny.

  The afternoon was almost spent when the "Gunner" and Obambi approached camp. Tired and footsore as he was the white man had, none the less, pushed rapidly along the back-trail lest night descend upon them before they reached their destination, for Danny, in common with most city-bred humans, bad discovered something peculiarly depressing and awe-inspiring in the mysterious sounds and silences of the nocturnal wilds. He wished the fires and companionship of men after the sun had set. And so the two covered the distance on the return in much less time than had been consumed in traversing it originally.

  As he came in sight of the camp the brief twilight of the tropics had already fallen, the cooking fires were burning, and to a trained eye a change would have been apparent from the appearance of the camp when he had left it early that morning; but Danny's eyes were trained in matters of broads, bulls, and beer trucks and not in the concerns of camps and safaris; so, in the failing light of dusk, he did not notice that there were more men in camp than when he had left, nor that toward the rear of it there were horses tethered where no horses had been before.

  The first intimation he had of anything unusual came from Obambi. "White men are in the camp, bwana," said the black—"and many horses. Perhaps they found the mad bwana and brought him back."

  "Where do you see any white men?" demanded the "Gunner."

  "By the big fire in the center of camp, bwana," replied Obambi.

  "Geeze, yes, I see 'em now," admitted Danny. "They must have found old Smithy all right; but I don't see him, do you?"

  "No, bwana, but perhaps he is in his tent."

  The appearance of Patrick and Obambi caused a commotion in the camp that was wholly out of proportion to its true significance. The white men leaped to their feet and drew their revolvers while strange blacks, in response to the commands of one of these, seized rifles and stood nervously alert.

  "You don't have to throw no fit," called Danny, "it's only me and Obambi."

  The white men were advancing to meet him now, and the two parties halted face to face near one of the fires. It was then that the eyes of one of the two strange white men alighted on the Thompson submachine gun. Raising his revolver he covered Danny.

  "Put up your hands!" he commanded sharply.

  "Wotinell?" demanded the "Gunner," but he put them up as every sensible man does when thus invited at the business end of a pistol.

  "Where is the ape-man?" asked the stranger.

  "What ape-man? What you talkin' about? What's your racket?"

  "You know who I mean—Tarzan," snapped the other. The "Gunner" glanced quickly about the camp. He saw his own men herded under guard of villainous looking blacks in long robes that had once been white; he saw the horses tethered Just beyond them; he saw nothing of Lafayette Smith. The training and the ethics of gangland controlled him on the instant. "Don't know the guy," he replied sullenly.

  "You were with him today," snarled the bearded white. "You fired on my village."

  "Who, me?" inquired the "Gunner" innocently. "You got me wrong, mister. I been hunting all day. I ain't seen no one. I ain't fired at nothing. Now it's my turn. What are you guys doin' here with this bunch of Ku Klux Klanners? If it's a stick up, hop to it; and get on your way. You got the drop on us, and they ain't no one to stop you. Get it over with. I'm hungry and want to feed."

  "Take the gun away from him," said Capietro, in Galla, to one of his men, "also his pistol," and there was nothing for Danny "Gunner" Patrick, with his hands above his head, to do but submit. Then they sent Obambi, under escort, to be herded with the other black prisoners and ordered the "Gunner" to accompany them to the large fire that blazed in front of Smith's tent and his own.

  "Where is your companion?" demanded Capietro.

  "What companion?" inquired Danny.

  "The man you have been traveling with," snapped the Italian. "Who else would I mean?"

  "Search me," replied the "Gunner."

  "What you mean by that? You got something concealed upon your person?"

  "If you mean money, I ain't got none."

  "You did not answer my question," continued Capietro.

  "What question?"

  "Where is your companion?"

  "I ain't got none."

  "Your headman told us there were two of you. What is your name?"

  "Bloom," replied Danny.

  Capietro looked puzzled. "The headman said one of you was Smith and the other Patrick."

  "Never heard of 'em," insisted Danny. "The guy must of been stringin' you. I'm here alone, hunting, and my name's Bloom."

  "And you didn't see Tarzan of the Apes today?"

  "Never even heard of a guy with that monicker."

  "Either he's lying to us," said Stabutch, "or it was the other one who fired on the village."

  "Sure, it must of been two other fellows," Danny assured them. "Say, when do I eat?"

  "When you tell
us where Tarzan is," replied Stabutch.

  "Then I guess I don't eat," remarked Danny. "Geeze, didn't I tell you I never heard of the guy? Do you think I know every monkey in Africa by his first name? Come on now, what's your racket? If we got anything you want, take it and screw. I'm sick lookin' at your mugs."

  "I do not understand English so well," whispered Capietro to Stabutch. "I do not always know what he says."

  "Neither do I," replied the Russian; "but I think he is lying to us. Perhaps he is trying to gain time until his companion and Tarzan arrive."

  "That is possible," replied Capietro in his normal voice.

  "Let's kill him and get out of here," suggested Stabutch. "We can take the prisoners and as much of the equipment as you want and be a long way from here in the morning."

  "Geeze," exclaimed Danny, "this reminds me of Chi. It makes me homesick."

  "How much money you pay if we don't kill you?" asked Capietro. "How much your friends pay?"

  The "Gunner" laughed. "Say, mister, you're giving yourself a bum steer." He was thinking how much more one might collect for killing him, if one could make connections with certain parties on the North Side of Chicago, than for sparing his life. But here was an opportunity, perhaps, to gain time. The "Gunner" did not wish to be killed, and so he altered his technique. "My friends ain't rich," he said, "but they might come across with a few grand. How much do you want?"

  Capietro considered. This must be a rich American, for only rich men could afford these African big game expeditions. "One hundred thousand should not be excessive for a rich man like you," he said.

  "Quit your kidding," said the "Gunner." "I ain't rich."

  "What could you raise?" asked Capietro, who saw by the prisoner's expression of astonishment that the original bid was evidently out of the question.

  "I might scrape up twenty grand," suggested Danny.

  "What are grand?" demanded the Italian.

  "Thousand—twenty thousand," explained the "Gunner."

  "Poof!" cried Capietro. "That would not pay me for the trouble of keeping you until the money could be forwarded from America. Make it fifty thousand lire and it's a bargain."

  "Fifty thousand lire? What's them?"

  "A lire is an Italian coin worth about twenty cents in American money," explained Stabutch.

  Danny achieved some rapid mental calculations before he replied; and when he had digested the result he had difficulty in repressing a smile, for he discovered that his offer of twenty thousand grand was actually twice what the Italian was now demanding. Yet he hesitated to agree too willingly. "That's ten thousand iron men," he said. "That's a lot of jack."

  "Iron men? Jack? I do not understand," said Capietro.

  "Smackers," explained Danny lucidly.

  "Smackers? Is there such a coin in America?" asked Capietro, turning to Stabutch.

  "Doubtless a vernacularism," said the Russian.

  "Geeze, you guys is dumb," growled the "Gunner." "A smacker's a buck. Every one knows that."

  "Perhaps if you would tell him in dollars it would be easier," suggested Stabutch. "We all understand the value of an American dollar."

  "That's a lot more than some Americans understand," Danny assured him; "but it's just what I been saying right along—ten thousand dollars —and it's too damn much."

  "That is for you to decide," said Capietro. "I am tired of bargaining —nobody but an American would bargain over a human life."

  "What you been doing?" demanded the "Gunner." "You're the guy that started it."

  Capietro shrugged. "It is not my life," he said. "You will pay me ten thousand American dollars, or you will die. Take your choice."

  "Oke," said Danny. "I'll pay. Now do I eat? If you don't feed me I won't be worth nothing."

  "Tie his hands," Capietro ordered one of the shiftas, then he fell to discussing plans with Stabutch. The Russian finally agreed with Capietro that the palisaded village of the raider would be the best place to defend themselves in the event that Tarzan enlisted aid and attacked them in force. One of their men had seen Lord Passmore's safari; and, even if their prisoner was lying to them, there was at least another white, probably well armed, who might be considered a definite menace. Ogonyo had told them that this man was alone and probably lost, but they did not know whether or not to believe the headman. If Tarzan commandeered these forces, which Capietro knew he had the influence to do, they might expect an attack upon their village.

  By the light of several fires the blacks of the captured safari were compelled to break camp and, when the loads were packed, to carry them on the difficult night march toward Capietro's village. With mounted shiftas in advance, upon the flanks, and bringing up the rear there was no lagging and no chance to escape.

  The "Gunner," plodding along at the head of his own porters, viewed the prospect of that night march with unmitigated disgust. He had traversed the route twice already since sunrise; and the thought of doing it again, in the dark, with his hands tied behind him was far from cheering. To add to his discomfort he was weak from hunger and fatigue, and now the pangs of thirst were assailing him.

  "Geeze," he soliloquized, "this ain't no way to treat a regular guy. When I took 'em for a ride I never made no guy walk, not even a rat. I'll get these lousy bums yet—a thinkin' they can put Danny Patrick on the spot, an' make him walk all the way!"

  14. FLIGHT

  As the choking cry broke from the lips of Abraham, the son of Abraham, Lady Barbara and Smith wheeled to see him fall, the knife clattering to the ground from his nerveless fingers. Smith was horrified, and the girl blenched, as they realized how close death had been. She saw Jobab and the others standing there, their evil faces contorted with rage.

  "We must get away from here," she said. "They will be Upon us in a moment."

  "I'm afraid you'll have to help me support your friend," said Smith. "She cannot walk alone."

  "Put your left arm around her," directed Lady Barbara. "That will leave your right hand free for your pistol. I will support her on the other side."

  "Leave me," begged Jezebel. "I will only keep you from escaping."

  "Nonsense," said Smith. "Put your arm across my shoulders."

  "You will soon be able to walk," Lady Barbara told her, "when the blood gets back into your feet. Come! Let's get away from here while we can."

  Half carrying Jezebel, the two started to move toward the circle of menacing figures surrounding them. Jobab was the first to regain his wits since the Prophet had collapsed at the critical moment. "Stop them!" he cried, as he prepared to block their way, at the same time drawing a knife from the folds of his filthy garment.

  "One side, fellow!" commanded Smith, menacing Jobab with his pistol.

  "The wrath of Jehovah will be upon thee," cried Lady Barbara in the Midian tongue, "as it has been upon the others who would have harmed us, if thou failest to let us pass in peace."

  "It is the work of Satan," shrilled Timothy. "Do not let them weaken thy heart with lies, Jobab. Do not let them pass!" The elder was evidently under great mental and nervous strain. His voice shook as he spoke, and his muscles were trembling. Suddenly he, too, collapsed as had Abraham, the son of Abraham. But still Jobab stood his ground, his knife raised in a definite menace against them. All around them the circle was growing smaller and its circumference more solidly knit by the forward pressing bodies of the Midians.

  "I hate to do it," said Smith, half aloud, as he raised his pistol and aimed it at Jobab. The Apostle was directly in front of Lafayette Smith and little more than a yard distant when the American, aiming point blank at his chest, jerked the trigger and fired.

  An expression of surprise mingled with that of rage which had convulsed the unbecoming features of Jobab the Apostle. Lafayette Smith was also surprised and for the same reason—he had missed Jobab. It was incredible—there must be something wrong with the pistol!

  But Jobab's surprise, while based upon the same miracle, was of a loftier and nobler aspect
. It was clothed in the sanctity of divine revelation. It emanated from a suddenly acquired conviction that he was immune to the fire and thunder of this strange weapon that he had seen lay Lamech low but a few minutes earlier. Verily, Jehovah was his shield and his buckler!

  For a moment, as the shot rang out, Jobab paused and then, clothed in the fancied immunity of this sudden revelation, he leaped upon Lafayette Smith. The sudden and unexpected impact of his body knocked the pistol from Smith's hand and simultaneously the villagers closed in upon him. A real menace now that they had witnessed the futility of the strange weapon.

  Lafayette Smith was no weakling, and though his antagonist was inspired by a combination of maniacal fury and religious fanaticism the outcome of their struggle must have been a foregone conclusion had there been no outside influences to affect it. But there were. Beside the villagers, there was Lady Barbara Collis.

  With consternation she had witnessed the futility of Smith's marksmanship; and when she saw him disarmed and in the grip of Jobab, with others of the villagers rushing to his undoing, she realized that now, indeed, the lives of all three of them were in direct jeopardy.

  The pistol lay at her feet, but only for a second. Stooping, she seized it; and then, with the blind desperation of self- preservation, she shoved the muzzle against Jobab's side and pulled the trigger; and as he fell, a hideous shriek upon his lips, she turned the weapon upon the advancing villagers and fired again. It was enough. Screaming in terror, the Midians turned and fled. A wave of nausea swept over the girl; she swayed and might have fallen had not Smith supported her.

  "I'll be all right in a moment," she said. "It was so horrible!"

  "You were very brave," said Lafayette Smith.

  "Not as brave as you," she replied with a weak little smile; "but a better shot."

  "Oh," cried Jezebel, "I thought they would have us again. Now that they are frightened, let us go away. It will require only a word from one of the apostles to send them upon us again."