The Complete Tarzan Collection

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  Taask and Helen had boarded the steamer, the man walking very close to the girl, his pistol pressed against her side, lest she make an outcry.

  "I think you are very foolish not to set her free," said Magra.

  "I can't now," replied Thome—"not until after you have left the Gregory party. Can't you see?"

  "Well, see that no harm comes to her—remember the arm of English law is long." Then Magra turned and walked back into the village.

  After a sleepless night of searching for Helen, Gregory, Tarzan, and d'Arnot were gathered in Gregory's room to formulate their plans.

  "I'm afraid there's nothing left to do but notify the authorities," said d'Arnot.

  "I suppose you're right," agreed Gregory. "I was so afraid they'd kill her if we notified the police, but now there seems to be nothing else to do."

  There was a knock at the door, and the three men looked up. "Come in!" said Gregory.

  The door swung slowly open, and Magra stepped into the room.

  "You!" exclaimed d'Arnot.

  She paid no attention to him, but looked straight at Tarzan. "Brian Gregory," she said, "I have come to help you find your sister."

  "What do you know about her? Where is she?" demanded Gregory.

  "Atan Thome is taking her into the interior. He left for Bonga on the river boat last night."

  "But the boat doesn't sail until today," interrupted d'Arnot.

  "Atan Thome bribed the captain to sail last night," Magra explained. "I was to have gone, but—well, why I didn't is immaterial."

  "This woman is not to be trusted," said Tarzan.

  "You can trust me—always, Brian Gregory." She turned to Gregory. "If you doubt me, keep me with you—as a hostage, perhaps. It is possible that I may be able to help you."

  Gregory appeared not to hear her. He seemed stunned. "Both my children," be said. "First Brian, now Helen, sacrificed—and for what?"

  "Do not despair, Monsieur Gregory," said d'Arnot. "There must be a way."

  "But how?" demanded the older man. "In four days Thome will be in Bonga. The boat will lie there at least one day. Coming back with the current, she will make the return trip in two and a half days, perhaps. Even if we can persuade the captain to return to Bonga immediately Thome will have had six or seven days start of us. He will be far into the interior. He probably has the map that was stolen from Helen's room. We have none. We will not know where to look for him."

  "Do not worry on that score," urged d'Arnot. "If Thome is in Africa, Tarzan of the Apes will find him."

  "Yes," agreed Gregory, dully, "but what will have happened to my poor girl in the mean time?"

  "Wait!" exclaimed d'Arnot. "I have it! There is yet a way. We have a naval seaplane here. I'm sure the authorities will fly us to Bonga. We shall be there when Monsieur Thome lands. What a surprise for Monsieur Thome, eh?"

  "Wonderful!" cried Gregory. "How can I ever thank you, Captain?"

  Whatever her reaction, Magra's face showed no emotion.

  CHAPTER 5

  At D'Arnot's request, the authorities were glad to co-operate; and with a delay of only a couple of hours the party was boarding a seaplane anchored in the river. Magra's expression suggested utmost self-satisfaction, as d'Arnot helped her aboard from the native canoe that had brought the party from shore. Wolff, who had never flown, swaggered a bit to hide his inward perturbation. Ogabi's eyes rolled fearfully.

  "You see how easily everything was arranged?" exclaimed d'Arnot.

  "Thanks to you," replied Gregory.

  "How long will it take you to fly to Bonga, Lieutenant?" Tarzan asked the pilot.

  "Between two and three hours," replied Lavac.

  "It will take the steamer four days, against the current," said d'Arnot. "Atan Thome will find a reception committee waiting at the dock."

  As the plane raced up the river into the wind for the take-off, Ogabi closed his eyes and clutched the seat with both hands. When he opened his eyes again, he looked down upon the top of a forest. His face was no longer dark—it was a sickly ashen color.

  "This is no place for man, Bwana, in belly of bird," he said to Tarzan.

  "But you are a man, Ogabi," replied the ape-man; "therefore you are not afraid. Remember that when the storm strikes us."

  "What storm?" asked Gregory.

  "A storm is coming," replied Tarzan.

  "How do you know?" demanded Gregory. "There is not a cloud in the sky."

  "Tarzan always knows," said d'Arnot.

  How Tarzan had known that a storm was approaching, not even he could have explained. Perhaps he shared with the wild things, by which and among which he had been raised, a peculiar sensitivity beyond the appreciation of men. However that may be, a half hour after he had foretold it, the ship raced into the heart of a tropical storm.

  Lavac, who was accustomed to sudden tropical storms, assumed that it covered but a small area and would soon be astern of them. An experienced flier, with a ship equipped with all the instruments necessary for blind flying, he merely increased his elevation and flew into it. The ship rolled and tossed, and Ogabi became a few shades lighter. Wolff clenched his fists until his knuckles were white.

  After an hour of it, Lavac turned and motioned d'Arnot to come forward. "It's worse than I'd anticipated, Captain," he said. "Had I better turn back?"

  "Got plenty of petrol?" asked d'Arnot.

  Lavac nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied.

  "Everything else all right?"

  "I'm not so sure about the compass."

  "Then we wouldn't be any better off flying back than going on," said d'Arnot. "Let's keep on. We're bound to be out of it sooner or later."

  For two long hours more Lavac bucked the storm; then the engine spluttered. D'Arnot went forward hurriedly; but before he reached Lavac's side, the engine caught itself again and was purring sweetly. It had been a tense moment for these two. D'Arnot breathed a deep sigh of relief— and then the engine spluttered again and stopped. Lavac worked furiously with a hand pump. D'Arnot turned back toward the cabin.

  "Fasten your life belts," he said. "We may have to come down."

  "The line's clogged," said Lavac, "and I can't clear it."

  D'Arnot glanced at the altimeter. "You've got about three thousand meters," he said. "The average elevation in the vicinity of Bonga is around two hundred. Glide as far as you can, looking for a hole."

  "And if I don't find one?" asked Lavac.

  D'Arnot shrugged and grimaced. "You're the pilot," he said, "and I understand you're a very good one."

  "Thanks," said Lavac. "It will take a very good pilot to fly this ship through a forest. I am not that good. Are you going to tell them?"

  "What's the use?" asked d'Arnot.

  "They might wish to take up some matters with God—matters they have been neglecting to discuss with Hun."

  "What's wrong?" demanded Wolff. "The engine isn't running."

  "You have answered your own question," said d'Arnot, walking back to his seat.

  "We're coming down," said Wolff. "He can't see to land. We'll crash."

  "Be calm," admonished d'Arnot; "we have not crashed yet."

  The passengers sat in tense expectancy as the ship nosed down through storm racked clouds.

  "What altitude now, Lavac?" asked d'Arnot.

  "Three hundred meters."

  "That means we can't be more than three hundred feet from ground at the best," said Gregory. "I remember looking at a map the other day. Nearly all this country back here runs about six hundred feet elevation."

  Suddenly Wolff leaped to his feet. "I can't stand it," he cried. "I'm going to jump!"

  Tarzan seized him and threw him back into his seat. "Sit still," he said.

  "Yes, sit still!" snapped d'Arnot. "Is it not bad enough without that?"

  Lavac voiced an exclamation of relief. "We're out of it!" he cried, "and there's water just below us."

  A moment later the ship glided to an easy landing on the bosom of a littl
e lake. Only the forest and the jungle were there to welcome it. If there were eyes to see, they remained hidden; and the voices of the jungle were momentarily stilled. The rain beat upon the water, and the wind moaned in the forest. Of these things and of their miraculous escape from death Ogabi was unconscious—he had fainted.

  "Do you know where we are, Lieutenant?" asked d'Arnot.

  "I haven't the least idea," replied Lavac, "—never saw this lake before."

  "Then we are lost?" asked Gregory.

  Lavac nodded. "I'm afraid so, sir. My compass wasn't behaving very well; and then, naturally, we must have been blown way off our course."

  "How lonely and depressing it looks," said Magra.

  "It is the jungle," breathed Tarzan, almost as one might say, "It is home!"

  "How discouraging," said Gregory. "Just when it seemed certain that we had overcome every obstacle and found a way to circumvent Thome and rescue Helen, this had to happen. Now we are absolutely helpless. We shall never reach her now, poor child."

  "Non! Non! my dear Monsieur Gregory, you must not give up," said d'Arnot. "This is only a temporary delay. Lieutenant Lavac will have that fuel line cleared in no time, and as soon as the weather lifts we'll take off again. We have plenty of time. Thome will not reach Bonga for three days yet. As soon as the weather clears, the lieutenant can find Bonga even with no compass at all."

  Lavac worked on the fuel line for half an hour; then he called d'Arnot. "The line was not clogged, sir," he said. He looked worried.

  "Then what was the trouble?" demanded d'Arnot.

  "We are out of fuel. The tank must have been leaking badly, as we had a full load when we left."

  "But the reserve tank—what of that?" demanded d'Arnot.

  "It was the reserve tank that leaked, and we have emptied the other."

  D'Arnot shook his head. "That poor little girl!" he said.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ogabi was singing as he grilled antelope steaks over a fire beside which lay the carcass of the animal. Ogabi's spirits had been rising for four days, for now he was four marches away from that horrible bird thing, in the belly of which he had almost ridden to his death. He had been very fearful that the white men would decide to return to it and fly again. If they had, however, he should have run away into the jungle and hidden. Five white men sat around the fire watching him. "Pretty well convinced you know where we are now, Tarzan?" asked d'Arnot.

  "Yes. I'm quite certain that we are east of Bonga and a little south. That buck I killed ranges in that district."

  "Thome probably left Bonga today," said Gregory.

  "By the time we reach Bonga he'll be many marches ahead of us. We'll never overtake him."

  "We don't have to go to Bonga," said Tarzan. "We can strike out directly northeast and cut his trail; then we can follow! on faster than he can travel —boys with packs will slow him down. We're not handicapped by anything like that."

  "You mean we can travel without porters or provisions?" demanded Gregory.

  "We have been for the last four days," Tarzan reminded him. He looked quickly about the camp. "Where's Magra?" he asked. "I told her not to leave camp. This is lion country; and, if I'm right about the location, it's also cannibal country."

  Magra had not meant to go far from the camp; but the forest was intriguing, and it seemed so quiet and peaceful. She walked slowly, enjoying the blooms, watching the birds. She stopped before a lovely orchid, which, like some beautiful woman, sucked the Me blood from the giant that supported it. Presently she recalled Tarzan's injunction, and turned to retrace her steps to camp. She did not see the great lion behind her which had caught her scent and was stalking her on silent, padded feet.

  The men in the camp saw Tarzan rise to his feet, his head up, his nostrils quivering; then, to their amazement, they saw him run a few steps, swing into a tree, and disappear. They did not know that Usha, the wind, had brought the acrid scent spoor of Numa, the lion, to the sensitive nostrils of the ape-man, and that mingled with it was the delicate scent of the perfume that Magra loved, revealing to him an impending tragedy and sending him into the trees in the hope that he would reach the scene in time.

  As Magra walked toward camp, an angry snarl from the king of beasts brought her suddenly about to awareness of the danger that confronted her. Instantly she realized the hopelessness of her situation and the futility of calling for help that could not reach her in time to prevent the inevitable. With her accustomed courage, she resigned herself to death; but even with death staring her in the face, she could scarcely restrain an involuntary exclamation of admiration for the magnificence of the great beast facing her. His size, his majestic bearing, the sheer ferocity of his snarling mien thrilled every fiber of her being. She did not want to die, but she felt that there could be no more noble death than beneath the mighty fangs and talons of the king of beasts.

  Now the lion was creeping toward her, belly to ground, the end of his tail twitching nervously. Just for a yard or so he came thus; then he rose, but still crouching a little as he advanced. Suddenly, with a mighty roar, he charged; and at the same instant a man leaped from a tree above full upon his back.

  "Brian!" she cried, with a gasp of astonishment.

  The man clung to the back of the carnivore, his growls mingling with those of the great cat, as he drove his hunting knife again and again into the tawny side of the leaping, striking beast. Thrilled and horrified, Magra watched, fascinated, until the pierced heart ceased forever, and the great beast died. Then Magra had reason to shudder in real horror, as the Lord of the Jungle placed a foot upon the carcass of his kill and voiced the victory cry of the bull ape. Every fiber of the girl's body vibrated to a new thrill as she watched the man she now knew was not Brian Gregory.

  As the uncanny cry broke the stillness of the jungle, Wolff, Gregory, and Lavac sprang to their feet. Wolff seized his rifle. "My God!" he cried. "What was that?"

  "Tarzan has a made a kill," said d'Arnot.

  "The Big Bwana has killed Simba," said Ogabi. "Are the white men deaf that they did not hear Simba roar?"

  "Sure I heard it," said Wolff; "but that wild man never killed no lion —he had nothin' but a knife. I'd better go out there an' look after him." Carrying his rifle, he started in the direction of the sound that had startled them, Gregory and Lavac following. "That yell was when the lion got him," said Wolff. "He's deader'n a smelt right now."

  "He doesn't look very dead to me," said Lavac, as Tarzan and Magra came into view.

  "I'm afraid I was so out of breath that I didn't—well, thank is a most inadequate word under the circumstance; but I can't think of another —thank you for saving my life. How silly and banal that sounds, but you know what I'm trying to say. You were wonderful, and a little terrifying, too; but I know now that you are not Brian Gregory. He could not have killed the lion as you did. No other man in the world could have done it."

  She paused. "Until a few minutes ago, I thought that I loved Brian."

  The implication of Magra's words and tone was quite apparent, yet Tarzan elected to ignore it. "We shall do our best to find him," he said, "not only on Mr. Gregory's account but on yours."

  Magra shrugged. She was rebuffed, but she could bide her time. "And the diamond?" she asked.

  "I'm not interested in that," said Tarzan.

  A well equipped safari moved toward the northeast ten marches out of Bonga. A girl and two men were the only whites, but the porters seemed to be carrying enough equipment and provisions for two or three times that number.

  "Rather clever of me," said one of the men to the girl, "taking your father's safari. It will take him a week or longer to get another one together and equip it. By that tune we'll be so far ahead that he'll never overtake us. I should like to see his face when he reaches Bonga and learns the truth."

  "You are about as clever as the late Mr. Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson," replied Helen, "and you'll end up the same way."

  "Who were they?" demanded Thome
.

  "They were kidnapers and murderers who were also addicted to grand larceny. If you were not a fool, you'd turn me loose and send me back to Bonga. You have the map. I can be of no further use to you. Until I am returned safely to him, my father will never give up until he finds you. I can't see why you want to hold me any longer."

  "Perhaps I have taken a liking to you, my dear," replied Thome.

  The girl shuddered at the implication of the man's words. All the rest of the day she plodded on in silence waiting always for a chance to escape, but either Atan Thome or Lal Taask was always at her side. She was spent and weary when they finally made camp, but much of her weariness was from nervous exhaustion—all day long the words of Atan Thome had preyed upon her mind.

  After the evening meal, she went to her tent, which had been pitched across the camp from that occupied by Thome, for the man knew that while she might attempt to escape by day, she would not dare to venture the dangers of the forest by night.

  Thome and Taask stood talking before the former's tent, Thorne's eyes upon the girl entering hers. The two men had been talking, and Lal Taask was watching the other intently.

  "You are my master, Atan Thome," he said; "but out of loyalty, your servant must warn you. The girl is white, and the arm of the white man's power is long. Into the depth of the jungle or to the frozen wastes of the poles it would reach and drag you back to an accounting."

  "Mind your own affairs," snapped Thome. "I mean the girl no harm."

  "I am glad to hear you say that. I do not want the white man's anger upon me. If you are wise you will do as the girl suggested. Send her back to Bonga tomorrow."

  Atan Thome thought a moment; then he nodded. "Perhaps you are right," he said. "She shall go back to Bonga tomorrow, if she wishes."

  The two men separated, each going to his own tent; and silence fell upon the sleeping camp, a single askari, nodding beside the beast fire, the only suggestion of life within the rude boma that had been thrown up against the intrusion of predatory beasts.