Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar Read online

  10

  Achmet Zek Sees the Jewels

  Mugambi, weak and suffering, had dragged his painful way along thetrail of the retreating raiders. He could move but slowly, restingoften; but savage hatred and an equally savage desire for vengeancekept him to his task. As the days passed his wounds healed and hisstrength returned, until at last his giant frame had regained all ofits former mighty powers. Now he went more rapidly; but the mountedArabs had covered a great distance while the wounded black had beenpainfully crawling after them.

  They had reached their fortified camp, and there Achmet Zek awaited thereturn of his lieutenant, Albert Werper. During the long, roughjourney, Jane Clayton had suffered more in anticipation of herimpending fate than from the hardships of the road.

  Achmet Zek had not deigned to acquaint her with his intentionsregarding her future. She prayed that she had been captured in thehope of ransom, for if such should prove the case, no great harm wouldbefall her at the hands of the Arabs; but there was the chance, thehorrid chance, that another fate awaited her. She had heard of manywomen, among whom were white women, who had been sold by outlaws suchas Achmet Zek into the slavery of black harems, or taken farther northinto the almost equally hideous existence of some Turkish seraglio.

  Jane Clayton was of sterner stuff than that which bends in spinelessterror before danger. Until hope proved futile she would not give itup; nor did she entertain thoughts of self-destruction only as a finalescape from dishonor. So long as Tarzan lived there was every reasonto expect succor. No man nor beast who roamed the savage continentcould boast the cunning and the powers of her lord and master. To her,he was little short of omnipotent in his native world--this world ofsavage beasts and savage men. Tarzan would come, and she would berescued and avenged, of that she was certain. She counted the daysthat must elapse before he would return from Opar and discover what hadtranspired during his absence. After that it would be but a short timebefore he had surrounded the Arab stronghold and punished the motleycrew of wrongdoers who inhabited it.

  That he could find her she had no slightest doubt. No spoor, howeverfaint, could elude the keen vigilance of his senses. To him, the trailof the raiders would be as plain as the printed page of an open book toher.

  And while she hoped, there came through the dark jungle another.Terrified by night and by day, came Albert Werper. A dozen times hehad escaped the claws and fangs of the giant carnivora only by whatseemed a miracle to him. Armed with nothing more than the knife he hadbrought with him from Opar, he had made his way through as savage acountry as yet exists upon the face of the globe.

  By night he had slept in trees. By day he had stumbled fearfully on,often taking refuge among the branches when sight or sound of somegreat cat warned him from danger. But at last he had come within sightof the palisade behind which were his fierce companions.

  At almost the same time Mugambi came out of the jungle before thewalled village. As he stood in the shadow of a great tree,reconnoitering, he saw a man, ragged and disheveled, emerge from thejungle almost at his elbow. Instantly he recognized the newcomer as hewho had been a guest of his master before the latter had departed forOpar.

  The black was upon the point of hailing the Belgian when somethingstayed him. He saw the white man walking confidently across theclearing toward the village gate. No sane man thus approached avillage in this part of Africa unless he was sure of a friendlywelcome. Mugambi waited. His suspicions were aroused.

  He heard Werper halloo; he saw the gates swing open, and he witnessedthe surprised and friendly welcome that was accorded the erstwhileguest of Lord and Lady Greystoke. A light broke upon the understandingof Mugambi. This white man had been a traitor and a spy. It was tohim they owed the raid during the absence of the Great Bwana. To hishate for the Arabs, Mugambi added a still greater hate for the whitespy.

  Within the village Werper passed hurriedly toward the silken tent ofAchmet Zek. The Arab arose as his lieutenant entered. His face showedsurprise as he viewed the tattered apparel of the Belgian.

  "What has happened?" he asked.

  Werper narrated all, save the little matter of the pouch of gems whichwere now tightly strapped about his waist, beneath his clothing. TheArab's eyes narrowed greedily as his henchman described the treasurethat the Waziri had buried beside the ruins of the Greystoke bungalow.

  "It will be a simple matter now to return and get it," said Achmet Zek."First we will await the coming of the rash Waziri, and after we haveslain them we may take our time to the treasure--none will disturb itwhere it lies, for we shall leave none alive who knows of its existence.

  "And the woman?" asked Werper.

  "I shall sell her in the north," replied the raider. "It is the onlyway, now. She should bring a good price."

  The Belgian nodded. He was thinking rapidly. If he could persuadeAchmet Zek to send him in command of the party which took LadyGreystoke north it would give him the opportunity he craved to make hisescape from his chief. He would forego a share of the gold, if hecould but get away unscathed with the jewels.

  He knew Achmet Zek well enough by this time to know that no member ofhis band ever was voluntarily released from the service of Achmet Zek.Most of the few who deserted were recaptured. More than once hadWerper listened to their agonized screams as they were tortured beforebeing put to death. The Belgian had no wish to take the slightestchance of recapture.

  "Who will go north with the woman," he asked, "while we are returningfor the gold that the Waziri buried by the bungalow of the Englishman?"

  Achmet Zek thought for a moment. The buried gold was of much greatervalue than the price the woman would bring. It was necessary to ridhimself of her as quickly as possible and it was also well to obtainthe gold with the least possible delay. Of all his followers, theBelgian was the most logical lieutenant to intrust with the command ofone of the parties. An Arab, as familiar with the trails and tribes asAchmet Zek himself, might collect the woman's price and make good hisescape into the far north. Werper, on the other hand, could scarcemake his escape alone through a country hostile to Europeans while themen he would send with the Belgian could be carefully selected with aview to preventing Werper from persuading any considerable portion ofhis command to accompany him should he contemplate desertion of hischief.

  At last the Arab spoke: "It is not necessary that we both return forthe gold. You shall go north with the woman, carrying a letter to afriend of mine who is always in touch with the best markets for suchmerchandise, while I return for the gold. We can meet again here whenour business is concluded."

  Werper could scarce disguise the joy with which he received thiswelcome decision. And that he did entirely disguise it from the keenand suspicious eyes of Achmet Zek is open to question. However, thedecision reached, the Arab and his lieutenant discussed the details oftheir forthcoming ventures for a short time further, when Werper madehis excuses and returned to his own tent for the comforts and luxury ofa long-desired bath and shave.

  Having bathed, the Belgian tied a small hand mirror to a cord sewn tothe rear wall of his tent, placed a rude chair beside an equally rudetable that stood beside the glass, and proceeded to remove the roughstubble from his face.

  In the catalog of masculine pleasures there is scarce one which impartsa feeling of greater comfort and refreshment than follows a cleanshave, and now, with weariness temporarily banished, Albert Werpersprawled in his rickety chair to enjoy a final cigaret before retiring.His thumbs, tucked in his belt in lazy support of the weight of hisarms, touched the belt which held the jewel pouch about his waist. Hetingled with excitement as he let his mind dwell upon the value of thetreasure, which, unknown to all save himself, lay hidden beneath hisclothing.

  What would Achmet Zek say, if he knew? Werper grinned. How the oldrascal's eyes would pop could he but have a glimpse of thosescintillating beauties! Werper had never yet had an opportunity tofeast his eyes for any great length of time upon them. He had not e
vencounted them--only roughly had he guessed at their value.

  He unfastened the belt and drew the pouch from its hiding place. Hewas alone. The balance of the camp, save the sentries, hadretired--none would enter the Belgian's tent. He fingered the pouch,feeling out the shapes and sizes of the precious, little noduleswithin. He hefted the bag, first in one palm, then in the other, andat last he wheeled his chair slowly around before the table, and in therays of his small lamp let the glittering gems roll out upon the roughwood.

  The refulgent rays transformed the interior of the soiled and squalidcanvas to the splendor of a palace in the eyes of the dreaming man. Hesaw the gilded halls of pleasure that would open their portals to thepossessor of the wealth which lay scattered upon this stained anddented table top. He dreamed of joys and luxuries and power whichalways had been beyond his grasp, and as he dreamed his gaze liftedfrom the table, as the gaze of a dreamer will, to a far distant goalabove the mean horizon of terrestrial commonplaceness.

  Unseeing, his eyes rested upon the shaving mirror which still hung uponthe tent wall above the table; but his sight was focused far beyond.And then a reflection moved within the polished surface of the tinyglass, the man's eyes shot back out of space to the mirror's face, andin it he saw reflected the grim visage of Achmet Zek, framed in theflaps of the tent doorway behind him.

  Werper stifled a gasp of dismay. With rare self-possession he let hisgaze drop, without appearing to have halted upon the mirror until itrested again upon the gems. Without haste, he replaced them in thepouch, tucked the latter into his shirt, selected a cigaret from hiscase, lighted it and rose. Yawning, and stretching his arms above hishead, he turned slowly toward the opposite end of the tent. The faceof Achmet Zek had disappeared from the opening.

  To say that Albert Werper was terrified would be putting it mildly. Herealized that he not only had sacrificed his treasure; but his life aswell. Achmet Zek would never permit the wealth that he had discoveredto slip through his fingers, nor would he forgive the duplicity of alieutenant who had gained possession of such a treasure withoutoffering to share it with his chief.

  Slowly the Belgian prepared for bed. If he were being watched, hecould not know; but if so the watcher saw no indication of the nervousexcitement which the European strove to conceal. When ready for hisblankets, the man crossed to the little table and extinguished thelight.

  It was two hours later that the flaps at the front of the tentseparated silently and gave entrance to a dark-robed figure, whichpassed noiselessly from the darkness without to the darkness within.Cautiously the prowler crossed the interior. In one hand was a longknife. He came at last to the pile of blankets spread upon severalrugs close to one of the tent walls.

  Lightly, his fingers sought and found the bulk beneath theblankets--the bulk that should be Albert Werper. They traced out thefigure of a man, and then an arm shot upward, poised for an instant anddescended. Again and again it rose and fell, and each time the longblade of the knife buried itself in the thing beneath the blankets.But there was an initial lifelessness in the silent bulk that gave theassassin momentary wonder. Feverishly he threw back the coverlets, andsearched with nervous hands for the pouch of jewels which he expectedto find concealed upon his victim's body.

  An instant later he rose with a curse upon his lips. It was AchmetZek, and he cursed because he had discovered beneath the blankets ofhis lieutenant only a pile of discarded clothing arranged in the formand semblance of a sleeping man--Albert Werper had fled.

  Out into the village ran the chief, calling in angry tones to thesleepy Arabs, who tumbled from their tents in answer to his voice. Butthough they searched the village again and again they found no trace ofthe Belgian. Foaming with anger, Achmet Zek called his followers tohorse, and though the night was pitchy black they set out to scour theadjoining forest for their quarry.

  As they galloped from the open gates, Mugambi, hiding in a nearby bush,slipped, unseen, within the palisade. A score of blacks crowded aboutthe entrance to watch the searchers depart, and as the last of thempassed out of the village the blacks seized the portals and drew themto, and Mugambi lent a hand in the work as though the best of his lifehad been spent among the raiders.

  In the darkness he passed, unchallenged, as one of their number, and asthey returned from the gates to their respective tents and huts,Mugambi melted into the shadows and disappeared.

  For an hour he crept about in the rear of the various huts and tents inan effort to locate that in which his master's mate was imprisoned.One there was which he was reasonably assured contained her, for it wasthe only hut before the door of which a sentry had been posted.Mugambi was crouching in the shadow of this structure, just around thecorner from the unsuspecting guard, when another approached to relievehis comrade.

  "The prisoner is safe within?" asked the newcomer.

  "She is," replied the other, "for none has passed this doorway since Icame."

  The new sentry squatted beside the door, while he whom he had relievedmade his way to his own hut. Mugambi slunk closer to the corner of thebuilding. In one powerful hand he gripped a heavy knob-stick. No signof elation disturbed his phlegmatic calm, yet inwardly he was arousedto joy by the proof he had just heard that "Lady" really was within.

  The sentry's back was toward the corner of the hut which hid the giantblack. The fellow did not see the huge form which silently loomedbehind him. The knob-stick swung upward in a curve, and downwardagain. There was the sound of a dull thud, the crushing of heavy bone,and the sentry slumped into a silent, inanimate lump of clay.

  A moment later Mugambi was searching the interior of the hut. At firstslowly, calling, "Lady!" in a low whisper, and finally with almostfrantic haste, until the truth presently dawned upon him--the hut wasempty!