"There are people like that," he assented. "Perhaps you are one of them, so you might as well go on striving for happiness in your own way. Of course you won't get it, but you will at least have the pleasures of anticipation, and that is something."
"I think I know myself and my own affairs well enough to determine for myself how to conduct my life," she said with a note of asperity in her voice.
Tarzan shrugged. "It was not in my thoughts to interfere," he said. "If you are determined to kill me and are quite sure that you will derive pleasure from it, why, I should be the last in the world to suggest that you abandon the idea."
"You do not amuse me," said Nemone haughtily. "I do not care for irony that is aimed at myself." She turned fiercely on him. "Men have died for less!" she cried, and the Lord of the Jungle laughed in her face.
"How many times?" he asked.
"A moment ago," said Nemone, "I was beginning to regret the thing that is about to happen. Had you been different, I might have relented and returned you to favor, but you do everything to antagonize me. You affront me, you insult me, you laugh at me." Her voice was rising, a barometric indication, Tarzan had learned, of her mental state.
"You will go on killing people and being unhappy until it is your turn to be killed," Tarzan said.
She shuddered. "Killed!" she repeated. "Yes, they are all killed, the kings and queens of Cathne. But it is not my turn yet. While Belthar lives, Nemone lives."
She was silent for a moment. "You may live, too, Tarzan, if you kneel here, before my people, and beg for mercy. "Bring on your lion," said Tarzan. "His mercy might be kinder than Nemone's."
"You refuse?" she demanded angrily. "You would kill me eventually," he replied. "There is a chance the lion may not be able to."
"Not a chance!" she said. "Have you seen the lion?"
"No."
Nemone turned and called a noble. "Have the hunting lion brought to scent the quarry!"
Behind them there was a scattering of troops and nobles as they made an avenue for the hunting lion and his keepers, and along the avenue Tarzan saw a great lion straining at the golden leashes to which eight men clung. Growling and roaring, the beast sprang from side to side in an effort to seize a keeper or lay hold upon one of the warriors or nobles that lined the way; so that it was all that four stalwart men on either side of him could do to prevent his accomplishing his design.
He was still afar when Tarzan saw the tuft of white hair in the center of his mane between his ears. It was Belthar!
Nemone was eying the man at her side as a cat might eye a mouse, but though the lion was close now she saw no change in the expression on Tarzan's face. "Do you not recognize him?" she demanded.
"Of course I do," he replied.
"And you are not afraid?"
"Of what?" he asked, looking at her wonderingly.
She stamped her foot in anger, thinking that he was trying to rob her of the satisfaction of witnessing his terror, for how could she know that Tarzan of the Apes could not understand the meaning of fear? "Prepare for the grand hunt!" she commanded, turning to a noble standing with the guard.
The warriors who had held Tarzan in leash ran forward and picked up the golden chains that were attached to the golden collar about his neck, the guards took posts about the chariot of the queen, and Tarzan was led a few yards in advance of it. Then the keepers brought Belthar closer to him, holding him just out of reach but only with difficulty, for when the irascible beast recognized the ape-man he flew into a frenzy of rage that taxed the eight men to hold him at all.
A noble approached Tarzan. He was Phordos, the father of Gemnon, hereditary captain of the hunt for the rulers of Cathne. He came quite close to Tarzan and spoke to him in a low whisper. "I am sorry that I must have a part in this," he said, "but my office requires it." And then aloud, "In the name of the queen, silence! These are the rules of the grand hunt of Nemone, queen of Cathne: the quarry shall move north down the center of the lane of warriors; when he has proceeded a hundred paces the keepers shall unleash the hunting lion, Belthar. Let no man distract the lion from the chase or aid the quarry, under penalty of death."
"What if I elude him and escape?" demanded the ape-man. "Shall I have my freedom then?"
Phordos shook his head sadly. "You will not escape him," he said. Then he turned toward the queen and knelt. "Allis in readiness, your majesty. Shall the hunt commence?"
"Let the lion scent the quarry once more; then the hunt may start," she directed.
The keepers let Belthar move a little closer to the ape-man.
Nemone leaned forward eagerly, staring at the savage beast that was the pride of her stable; the light of insanity gleamed in her eyes now. "It is enough!" she cried.
In a hollow near the river that runs past Cathne a lion lay asleep in dense brush, a mighty beast with a yellow coat and a great black mane. Strange sounds coming to him from the plain disturbed him and he rumbled complainingly in his throat, but as yet he seemed only half awake.
His eyes were closed, but his half wakefulness was only seeming. Numa was awake, but he wanted to sleep and was angry with the men-things that were disturbing him. They were not too close as yet, but he knew that if they came closer he would have to get up and investigate. and that he did not want to do. He felt very lazy.
Out on the field Tarzan was striding along the spear bound lane. He counted his steps, knowing that at the hundredth Belthar would be loosed upon him. The ape-man had a plan. Across the river to the east was the forest in which he had hunted with Xerstle and Pindes and Gemnon; could he reach it, he would be safe. No lion or no man could hope ever to overtake the Lord of the Jungle once he swung to the branches of those towering old trees.
But could he reach the wood before Belthar overtook him? Tarzan was swift, but there are few creatures as swift as Numa at the height of his charge. With a start of a hundred paces, the ape-man felt that he might outdistance an ordinary lion, but Belthar was no ordinary lion.
At the hundredth pace Tarzan leaped forward at top speed. Behind him he heard the frenzied roar of the hunting lion as his leashes were slipped and, mingling with it, the roar of the crowd.
Smoothly and low ran Belthar, the hunting lion, swiftly closing up the distance that separated him from the quarry. He looked neither to right nor to left; his fierce, blazing eyes remained fixed upon the fleeing man ahead.
Belthar was gaining on the quarry when Tarzan turned suddenly to the east toward the river after he had passed the end of the gauntlet that had held him to a straight path at the beginning of his flight.
A scream of rage burst from the lips of Nemone as she saw and realized the purpose of the quarry. A sullen roar rose from the pursuing crowd. They had not thought that the hunted man had a chance, but now they understood that he might yet reach the river and the forest.
Tarzan, glancing back over a bronzed shoulder, realized that the end was near. The river was still two hundred yards away and the lion, steadily gaining on him, but fifty.
Then the ape-man turned and waited. He stood at ease, his arms hanging at his side, but he was alert and ready.
He knew precisely what Belthar would do, and he knew what he would do. No amount of training would have changed the lion's instinctive method of attack. He would rush at Tarzan, rear upon his hind feet when close, seize him with his taloned paws and drive his great fangs through his head or neck or shoulder. Then he would drag him down.
But Tarzan had met the charge of lions before. It would not be quite as easy for Belthar as Belthar and the screaming audience believed, yet the ape-man guessed that, without a knife, he could do no more than delay the inevitable. He would die fighting, however, and now, as Belthar charged growling upon him, he crouched slightly and answered the roaring challenge of the carnivore with a roar as savage as the lion's.
Suddenly he detected a new note in the voice of the crowd, a note of surprise and consternation. Belthar was almost upon him as a tawny body streaked past the
ape-man, brushing his leg as it came from behind him, and, as Belthar rose upon his hind feet, fell upon him, a fury of talons and gleaming fangs, a great lion with a golden coat and a black mane—a mighty engine of rage and destruction.
Roaring and growling, the two great beasts rolled upon The ground as they tore at one another with teeth and claws while the astounded ape-man looked on and the chariot of the queen approached, and the breathless crowd pressed forward.
The strange lion was larger than Belthar and more powerful, a giant of a lion in the full prime of his strength and ferocity. Presently Belthar gave him an opening, and his great jaws closed upon the throat of the hunting lion of Nemone, jaws that drove mighty fangs through the thick mane of his adversary, through hide and flesh deep into the jugular of Belthar. Then he braced his feet and shook Belthar as a cat might shake a mouse.
Dropping Belthar to the ground, the victor faced the astonished Cathneans with snarling face. Then he slowly backed to where the ape- man stood and stopped beside him and Tarzan laid his hand upon the black mane of Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion.
For a long moment there was unbroken silence as the two faced the enemies of the Lord of the Jungle, and the awed Cathneans only stood and stared; then a woman s voice rose in a weird scream. It was Nemone. Slowly she stepped from her golden car and amidst utter silence walked toward the dead Belthar while her people watched her, motionless and wondering.
She stopped with her sandaled feet touching the bloody mane of the hunting lion and gazed down upon the dead carnivore.
"Belthar is dead!" she screamed, and whipping her dagger from its sheath drove its glittering point deep into her own heart.
As the moon rose, Tarzan placed a final rock upon a mound of earth beside the river that runs to Cathne through the valley of Onthar.
The warriors and the nobles and the people had followed Phordos to the city to empty the dungeons of Nemone and proclaim Alextar king, leaving their dead queen lying at the edge of the Field of the Lions with the dead Belthar.
The human service they had neglected, the beast-man had performed, and now beneath the soft radiance of an African moon he stood with bowed head beside the grave of a woman who had found happiness at last.
THE END
EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
TARZAN AND THE LION MAN
BOOK 17 IN THE TARZAN SERIES
Serialized in Liberty Magazine, November 11, 1933—January 6, 1934
First Book Edition—Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc., September 1934
* * *
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1. In Conference
Chapter 2. Mud
Chapter 3. Poisoned Arrows
Chapter 4. Dissension
Chapter 5. Death
Chapter 6. Remorse
Chapter 7. Disaster
Chapter 8. The Coward
Chapter 9. Treachery
Chapter 10. Torture
Chapter 11. The Last Victim
Chapter 12. The Map
Chapter 13. A Ghost
Chapter 14. A Madman
Chapter 15. Terror
Chapter 16. Eyad
Chapter 17. Alone
Chapter 18. Gorilla King
Chapter 19. Despair
Chapter 20. "Come With Me!"
Chapter 21. Abducted
Chapter 22. The Imposter
Chapter 23. Man And Beast
Chapter 24. God
Chapter 25. "Before I Eat You!"
Chapter 26. Trapped
Chapter 27. Holocaust
Chapter 28. Through Smoke And Flame
Chapter 29. Death At Dawn
Chapter 30. The Wild Girl
Chapter 31. Diamonds!
Chapter 32. Good-bye, Africa!
Chapter 33. Hello, Hollywood!
* * *
1. IN CONFERENCE
Mr. Milton Smith, Executive Vice President in Charge of Production, was in conference. A half dozen men lounged comfortably in deep, soft chairs and divans about his large, well-appointed office in the B.O. studio. Mr. Smith had a chair behind a big desk, but he seldom occupied it. He was an imaginative, dramatic, dynamic person. He required freedom and space in which to express himself. His large chair was too small; so he paced about the office more often than he occupied his chair, and his hands interpreted his thoughts quite as fluently as did his tongue.
"It's bound to be a knock-out," he assured his listeners; "no synthetic jungle, no faked sound effects, no toothless old lions that every picture fan in the U.S. knows by their first names. No, sir! This will be the real thing."
A secretary entered the room and closed the door behind her. "Mr. Orman is here," she said.
"Good! Ask him to come in, please." Mr. Smith rubbed his palms together and turned to the others. "Thinking of Orman was nothing less than an inspiration," he exclaimed. "He's just the man to make this picture."
"Just another one of your inspirations, Chief," remarked one of the men. "They've got to hand it to you."
Another, sitting next to the speaker, leaned closer to him. "I thought you suggested Orman the other day," he whispered.
"I did," said the first man out of the corner of his mouth.
Again the door opened, and the secretary ushered in a stocky, bronzed man who was greeted familiarly by all in the room. Smith advanced and shook hands with him.
"Glad to see you, Tom," he said. "Haven't seen you since you got back from Borneo. Great stuff you got down there. But I've got something bigger still on the fire for you. You know the clean-up Superlative Pictures made with their last jungle picture?"
"How could I help it; it's all I've heard since I got back. Now I suppose everybody's goin' to make jungle pictures."
"Well, there are jungle pictures and jungle pictures. We're going to make a real one. Every scene in that Superlative picture was shot inside a radius of twenty-five miles from Hollywood except a few African stock shots, and the sound effects—lousy!" Smith grimaced his contempt.
"And where are we goin' to shoot?" inquired Orman; "fifty miles from Hollywood?"
"No, sir! We're goin' to send a company right to the heart of Africa, right to the—ah—er—what's the name of that forest, Joe?"
"The Ituri Forest."
"Yes, right to the Ituri Forest with sound equipment and everything. Think of it, Tom! You get the real stuff, the real natives, the jungle, the animals, the sounds. You 'shoot' a giraffe, and at the same time you record the actual sound of his voice."
"You won't need much sound equipment for that, Milt."
"Why?"
"Giraffes don't make any sounds; they're supposed not to have any vocal organs."
"Well, what of it? That was just an illustration. But take the other animals for instance; lions, elephants, tigers—Joe's written in a great tiger sequence. It's goin' to yank 'em right out of their seats."
"There ain't any tigers in Africa, Milt," explained the director.
"Who says there ain't?"
"I do," replied Orman, grinning.
"How about it, Joe?" Smith turned toward the scenarist.
"Well, Chief, you said you wanted a tiger sequence."
"Oh, what's the difference? We'll make it a crocodile sequence."
"And you want me to direct the picture?" asked Orman.
"Yes, and it will make you famous."
"I don't know about that, but I'm game—I ain't ever been to Africa. Is it feasible to get sound trucks into Central Africa?"
"We're just having a conference to discuss the whole matter," replied Smith. "We've asked Major White to sit in. I guess you men haven't met —Mr. Orman, Major White," and as the two men shook hands Smith continued, "the major's a famous big game hunter, knows Africa like a book. He's to be technical advisor and go along with you."
"What do you think, Major, about our being able to get sound trucks into the I
turi Forest?" asked Orman.
"What'll they weigh? I doubt that you can get anything across Africa that weighs over a ton and a half."
"Ouch!" exclaimed Clarence Noice, the sound director. "Our sound trucks weigh seven tons, and we're planning on taking two of them."
"It just can't be done," said the major.
"And how about the generator truck?" demanded Noice. "It weighs nine tons."
The major threw up his hands. "Really, gentlemen, it's preposterous."
"Can you do it, Tom?" demanded Smith, and without waiting for a reply, "you've got to do it."
"Sure I'll do it—if you want to foot the bills."
"Good!" exclaimed Smith. "Now that's settled let me tell you something about the story. Joe's written a great story—it's goin' to be a knock-out. You see, this fellow's born in the Jungle and brought up by a lioness. He pals around with the lions all his life—doesn't know any other friends. The lion is king of beasts; when the boy grows up he's king of the lions; so he bosses the whole menagerie. See? Big shot of the jungle."
"Sounds familiar," commented Orman.
"And then the girl comes in, and here's a great shot! She doesn't know any one's around, and she's bathing in a jungle pool. Along comes the Lion Man. He ain't ever seen a woman before. Can't you see the possibilities, Tom? It's goin' to knock 'em cold." Smith was walking around the room, acting out the scene. He was the girl bathing in the pool in one corner of the room, and then he went to the opposite corner and was the Lion Man. "Great, isn't it?" he demanded. "You've got to hand it to Joe."
"Joe always was an original guy," said Orman. "Say, who you got to play this Lion Man that's goin' to pal around with the lions? I hope he's got the guts."
"Best ever, a regular find. He's got a physique that's goin' to have all the girls goofy."
"Yes, them and their grandmothers," offered another conferee.
"Who is he?"
"He's the world's champion marathoner."
"Marathon dancer?"
The Complete Tarzan Collection Page 368