The Son of Tarzan t-4 Read online

  Now Kovudoo knew that he had made a sale. They wanted her. So he commenced to bargain, and in the end the person of Meriem passed from the possession of the black chieftain into that of the two Swedes in consideration of six yards of Amerikan, three empty brass cartridge shells and a shiny, new jack knife from New Jersey. And all but Meriem were more than pleased with the bargain.

  Kovudoo stipulated but a single condition and that was that the Europeans were to leave his village and take the girl with them as early the next morning as they could get started. After the sale was consummated he did not hesitate to explain his reasons for this demand. He told them of the strenuous attempt of the girl’s savage mate to rescue her, and suggested that the sooner they got her out of the country the more likely they were to retain possession of her.

  Meriem was again bound and placed under guard, but this time in the tent of the Swedes. Malbihn talked to her, trying to persuade her to accompany them willingly. He told her that they would return her to her own village; but when he discovered that she would rather die than go back to the old sheik, he assured her that they would not take her there, nor, as a matter of fact, had they had an intention of so doing. As he talked with the girl the Swede feasted his eyes upon the beautiful lines of her face and figure. She had grown tall and straight and slender toward maturity since he had seen her in The Sheik’s village on that long gone day. For years she had represented to him a certain fabulous reward. In his thoughts she had been but the personification of the pleasures and luxuries that many francs would purchase. Now as she stood before him pulsing with life and loveliness she suggested other seductive and alluring possibilities. He came closer to her and laid his hand upon her. The girl shrank from him. He seized her and she struck him heavily in the mouth as he sought to kiss her. Then Jenssen entered the tent.

  “Malbihn!” he almost shouted. “You fool!”

  Sven Malbihn released his hold upon the girl and turned toward his companion. His face was red with mortification.

  “What the devil are you trying to do?” growled Jenssen. “Would you throw away every chance for the reward? If we maltreat her we not only couldn’t collect a sou, but they’d send us to prison for our pains. I thought you had more sense, Malbihn.”

  “I’m not a wooden man,” growled Malbihn.

  “You’d better be,” rejoined Jenssen, “at least until we have delivered her over in safety and collected what will be coming to us.”

  “Oh, hell,” cried Malbihn. “What’s the use? They’ll be glad enough to have her back, and by the time we get there with her she’ll be only too glad to keep her mouth shut. Why not?”

  “Because I say not,” growled Jenssen. “I’ve always let you boss things, Sven; but here’s a case where what I say has got to go—because I’m right and you’re wrong, and we both know it.”

  “You’re getting damned virtuous all of a sudden,” growled Malbihn. “Perhaps you think I have forgotten about the inn keeper’s daughter, and little Celella, and that nigger at—“

  “Shut up!” snapped Jenssen. “It’s not a matter of virtue and you are as well aware of that as I. I don’t want to quarrel with you, but so help me God, Sven, you’re not going to harm this girl if I have to kill you to prevent it. I’ve suffered and slaved and been nearly killed forty times in the last nine or ten years trying to accomplish what luck has thrown at our feet at last, and now I’m not going to be robbed of the fruits of success because you happen to be more of a beast than a man. Again I warn you, Sven—“ and he tapped the revolver that swung in its holster at his hip.

  Malbihn gave his friend an ugly look, shrugged his shoulders, and left the tent. Jenssen turned to Meriem.

  “If he bothers you again, call me,” he said. “I shall always be near.”

  The girl had not understood the conversation that had been carried on by her two owners, for it had been in Swedish; but what Jenssen had just said to her in Arabic she understood and from it grasped an excellent idea of what had passed between the two. The expressions upon their faces, their gestures, and Jenssen’s final tapping of his revolver before Malbihn had left the tent had all been eloquent of the seriousness of their altercation. Now, toward Jenssen she looked for friendship, and with the innocence of youth she threw herself upon his mercy, begging him to set her free, that she might return to Korak and her jungle life; but she was doomed to another disappointment, for the man only laughed at her roughly and told her that if she tried to escape she would be punished by the very thing that he had just saved her from.

  All that night she lay listening for a signal from Korak. All about the jungle life moved through the darkness. To her sensitive ears came sounds that the others in the camp could not hear—sounds that she interpreted as we might interpret the speech of a friend, but not once came a single note that reflected the presence of Korak. But she knew that he would come. Nothing short of death itself could prevent her Korak from returning for her. What delayed him though?

  When morning came again and the night had brought no succoring Korak, Meriem’s faith and loyalty were still unshaken though misgivings began to assail her as to the safety of her friend. It seemed unbelievable that serious mishap could have overtaken her wonderful Korak who daily passed unscathed through all the terrors of the jungle. Yet morning came, the morning meal was eaten, the camp broken and the disreputable safari of the Swedes was on the move northward with still no sign of the rescue the girl momentarily expected.

  All that day they marched, and the next and the next, nor did Korak even so much as show himself to the patient little waiter moving, silently and stately, beside her hard captors.

  Malbihn remained scowling and angry. He replied to Jenssen’s friendly advances in curt monosyllables. To Meriem he did not speak, but on several occasions she discovered him glaring at her from beneath half closed lids—greedily. The look sent a shudder through her. She hugged Geeka closer to her breast and doubly regretted the knife that they had taken from her when she was captured by Kovudoo.

  It was on the fourth day that Meriem began definitely to give up hope. Something had happened to Korak. She knew it. He would never come now, and these men would take her far away. Presently they would kill her. She would never see her Korak again.

  On this day the Swedes rested, for they had marched rapidly and their men were tired. Malbihn and Jenssen had gone from camp to hunt, taking different directions. They had been gone about an hour when the door of Meriem’s tent was lifted and Malbihn entered. The look of a beast was on his face.

  Chapter 14

  With wide eyes fixed upon him, like a trapped creature horrified beneath the mesmeric gaze of a great serpent, the girl watched the approach of the man. Her hands were free, the Swedes having secured her with a length of ancient slave chain fastened at one end to an iron collar padlocked about her neck and at the other to a long stake driven deep into the ground.

  Slowly Meriem shrank inch by inch toward the opposite end of the tent. Malbihn followed her. His hands were extended and his fingers half-opened—claw-like—to seize her. His lips were parted, and his breath came quickly, pantingly.

  The girl recalled Jenssen’s instructions to call him should Malbihn molest her; but Jenssen had gone into the jungle to hunt. Malbihn had chosen his time well. Yet she screamed, loud and shrill, once, twice, a third time, before Malbihn could leap across the tent and throttle her alarming cries with his brute fingers. Then she fought him, as any jungle she might fight, with tooth and nail. The man found her no easy prey. In that slender, young body, beneath the rounded curves and the fine, soft skin, lay the muscles of a young lioness. But Malbihn was no weakling. His character and appearance were brutal, nor did they belie his brawn. He was of giant stature and of giant strength. Slowly he forced the girl back upon the ground, striking her in the face when she hurt him badly either with teeth or nails. Meriem struck back, but she was growing weaker from the choking fingers at her throat.

  Out in the jungle Jenssen had br
ought down two bucks. His hunting had not carried him far afield, nor was he prone to permit it to do so. He was suspicious of Malbihn. The very fact that his companion had refused to accompany him and elected instead to hunt alone in another direction would not, under ordinary circumstances, have seemed fraught with sinister suggestion; but Jenssen knew Malbihn well, and so, having secured meat, he turned immediately back toward camp, while his boys brought in his kill.

  He had covered about half the return journey when a scream came faintly to his ears from the direction of camp. He halted to listen. It was repeated twice. Then silence. With a muttered curse Jenssen broke into a rapid run. He wondered if he would be too late. What a fool Malbihn was indeed to thus chance jeopardizing a fortune!

  Further away from camp than Jenssen and upon the opposite side another heard Meriem’s screams—a stranger who was not even aware of the proximity of white men other than himself—a hunter with a handful of sleek, black warriors. He, too, listened intently for a moment. That the voice was that of a woman in distress he could not doubt, and so he also hastened at a run in the direction of the affrighted voice; but he was much further away than Jenssen so that the latter reached the tent first. What the Swede found there roused no pity within his calloused heart, only anger against his fellow scoundrel. Meriem was still fighting off her attacker. Malbihn still was showering blows upon her. Jenssen, streaming foul curses upon his erstwhile friend, burst into the tent. Malbihn, interrupted, dropped his victim and turned to meet Jenssen’s infuriated charge. He whipped a revolver from his hip. Jenssen, anticipating the lightning move of the other’s hand, drew almost simultaneously, and both men fired at once. Jenssen was still moving toward Malbihn at the time, but at the flash of the explosion he stopped. His revolver dropped from nerveless fingers. For a moment he staggered drunkenly. Deliberately Malbihn put two more bullets into his friend’s body at close range. Even in the midst of the excitement and her terror Meriem found herself wondering at the tenacity of life which the hit man displayed. His eyes were closed, his head dropped forward upon his breast, his hands hung limply before him. Yet still he stood there upon his feet, though he reeled horribly. It was not until the third bullet had found its mark within his body that he lunged forward upon his face. Then Malbihn approached him, and with an oath kicked him viciously. Then he returned once more to Meriem. Again he seized her, and at the same instant the flaps of the tent opened silently and a tall white man stood in the aperture. Neither Meriem or Malbihn saw the newcomer. The latter’s back was toward him while his body hid the stranger from Meriem’s eyes.

  He crossed the tent quickly, stepping over Jenssen’s body. The first intimation Malbihn had that he was not to carry out his design without further interruption was a heavy hand upon his shoulder. He wheeled to face an utter stranger—a tall, black-haired, gray-eyed stranger clad in khaki and pith helmet. Malbihn reached for his gun again, but another hand had been quicker than his and he saw the weapon tossed to the ground at the side of the tent—out of reach.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the stranger addressed his question to Meriem in a tongue she did not understand. She shook her head and spoke in Arabic. Instantly the man changed his question to that language.

  “These men are taking me away from Korak,” explained the girl. “This one would have harmed me. The other, whom he had just killed, tried to stop him. They were both very bad men; but this one is the worse. If my Korak were here he would kill him. I suppose you are like them, so you will not kill him.”

  The stranger smiled. “He deserves killing?” he said. “There is no doubt of that. Once I should have killed him; but not now. I will see, though, that he does not bother you any more.”

  He was holding Malbihn in a grasp the giant Swede could not break, though he struggled to do so, and he was holding him as easily as Malbihn might have held a little child, yet Malbihn was a huge man, mightily thewed. The Swede began to rage and curse. He struck at his captor, only to be twisted about and held at arm’s length. Then he shouted to his boys to come and kill the stranger. In response a dozen strange blacks entered the tent. They, too, were powerful, clean-limbed men, not at all like the mangy crew that followed the Swedes.

  “We have had enough foolishness,” said the stranger to Malbihn. “You deserve death, but I am not the law. I know now who you are. I have heard of you before. You and your friend here bear a most unsavory reputation. We do not want you in our country. I shall let you go this time; but should you ever return I shall take the law into my own hands. You understand?”

  Malbihn blustered and threatened, finishing by applying a most uncomplimentary name to his captor. For this he received a shaking that rattled his teeth. Those who know say that the most painful punishment that can be inflicted upon an adult male, short of injuring him, is a good, old fashioned shaking. Malbihn received such a shaking.

  “Now get out,” said the stranger, “and next time you see me remember who I am,” and he spoke a name in the Swede’s ear—a name that more effectually subdued the scoundrel than many beatings—then he gave him a push that carried him bodily through the tent doorway to sprawl upon the turf beyond.

  “Now,” he said, turning toward Meriem, “who has the key to this thing about your neck?”

  The girl pointed to Jenssen’s body. “He carried it always,” she said.

  The stranger searched the clothing on the corpse until he came upon the key. A moment more Meriem was free.

  “Will you let me go back to my Korak?” she asked.

  “I will see that you are returned to your people,” he replied. “Who are they and where is their village?”

  He had been eyeing her strange, barbaric garmenture wonderingly. From her speech she was evidently an Arab girl; but he had never before seen one thus clothed.

  “Who are your people? Who is Korak?” he asked again.

  “Korak! Why Korak is an ape. I have no other people. Korak and I live in the jungle alone since A’ht went to be king of the apes.” She had always thus pronounced Akut’s name, for so it had sounded to her when first she came with Korak and the ape. “Korak could have been kind, but he would not.”

  A questioning expression entered the stranger’s eyes. He looked at the girl closely.

  “So Korak is an ape?” he said. “And what, pray, are you?”

  “I am Meriem. I, also, am an ape.”

  “M-m,” was the stranger’s only oral comment upon this startling announcement; but what he thought might have been partially interpreted through the pitying light that entered his eyes. He approached the girl and started to lay his hand upon her forehead. She drew back with a savage little growl. A smile touched his lips.

  “You need not fear me,” he said. “I shall not harm you. I only wish to discover if you have fever—if you are entirely well. If you are we will set forth in search of Korak.”

  Meriem looked straight into the keen gray eyes. She must have found there an unquestionable assurance of the honorableness of their owner, for she permitted him to lay his palm upon her forehead and feel her pulse. Apparently she had no fever.

  “How long have you been an ape?” asked the man.

  “Since I was a little girl, many, many years ago, and Korak came and took me from my father who was beating me. Since then I have lived in the trees with Korak and A’ht.”

  “Where in the jungle lives Korak?” asked the stranger.

  Meriem pointed with a sweep of her hand that took in, generously, half the continent of Africa.

  “Could you find your way back to him?”

  “I do not know,” she replied; “but he will find his way to me.”

  “Then I have a plan,” said the stranger. “I live but a few marches from here. I shall take you home where my wife will look after you and care for you until we can find Korak or Korak finds us. If he could find you here he can find you at my village. Is it not so?”

  Meriem thought that it was so; but she did not like the idea of not starting
immediately back to meet Korak. On the other hand the man had no intention of permitting this poor, insane child to wander further amidst the dangers of the jungle. From whence she had come, or what she had undergone he could not guess, but that her Korak and their life among the apes was but a figment of a disordered mind he could not doubt. He knew the jungle well, and he knew that men have lived alone and naked among the savage beasts for years; but a frail and slender girl! No, it was not possible.

  Together they went outside. Malbihn’s boys were striking camp in preparation for a hasty departure. The stranger’s blacks were conversing with them. Malbihn stood at a distance, angry and glowering. The stranger approached one of his own men.

  “Find out where they got this girl,” he commanded.

  The Negro thus addressed questioned one of Malbihn’s followers. Presently he returned to his master.

  “They bought her from old Kovudoo,” he said. “That is all that this fellow will tell me. He pretends that he knows nothing more, and I guess that he does not. These two white men were very bad men. They did many things that their boys knew not the meanings of. It would be well, Bwana, to kill the other.”

  “I wish that I might; but a new law is come into this part of the jungle. It is not as it was in the old days, Muviri,” replied the master.

  The stranger remained until Malbihn and his safari had disappeared into the jungle toward the north. Meriem, trustful now, stood at his side, Geeka clutched in one slim, brown hand. They talked together, the man wondering at the faltering Arabic of the girl, but attributing it finally to her defective mentality. Could he have known that years had elapsed since she had used it until she was taken by the Swedes he would not have wondered that she had half forgotten it. There was yet another reason why the language of The Sheik had thus readily eluded her; but of that reason she herself could not have guessed the truth any better than could the man.

  He tried to persuade her to return with him to his “village” as he called it, or douar, in Arabic; but she was insistent upon searching immediately for Korak. As a last resort he determined to take her with him by force rather than sacrifice her life to the insane hallucination which haunted her; but, being a wise man, he determined to humor her first and then attempt to lead her as he would have her go. So when they took up their march it was in the direction of the south, though his own ranch lay almost due east.