Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar Read online

  6

  The Arab Raid

  After their first terror had subsided subsequent to the shock of theearthquake, Basuli and his warriors hastened back into the passagewayin search of Tarzan and two of their own number who were also missing.

  They found the way blocked by jammed and distorted rock. For two daysthey labored to tear a way through to their imprisoned friends; butwhen, after Herculean efforts, they had unearthed but a few yards ofthe choked passage, and discovered the mangled remains of one of theirfellows they were forced to the conclusion that Tarzan and the secondWaziri also lay dead beneath the rock mass farther in, beyond humanaid, and no longer susceptible of it.

  Again and again as they labored they called aloud the names of theirmaster and their comrade; but no answering call rewarded theirlistening ears. At last they gave up the search. Tearfully they casta last look at the shattered tomb of their master, shouldered the heavyburden of gold that would at least furnish comfort, if not happiness,to their bereaved and beloved mistress, and made their mournful wayback across the desolate valley of Opar, and downward through theforests beyond toward the distant bungalow.

  And as they marched what sorry fate was already drawing down upon thatpeaceful, happy home!

  From the north came Achmet Zek, riding to the summons of hislieutenant's letter. With him came his horde of renegade Arabs,outlawed marauders, these, and equally degraded blacks, garnered fromthe more debased and ignorant tribes of savage cannibals through whosecountries the raider passed to and fro with perfect impunity.

  Mugambi, the ebon Hercules, who had shared the dangers and vicissitudesof his beloved Bwana, from Jungle Island, almost to the headwaters ofthe Ugambi, was the first to note the bold approach of the sinistercaravan.

  He it was whom Tarzan had left in charge of the warriors who remainedto guard Lady Greystoke, nor could a braver or more loyal guardian havebeen found in any clime or upon any soil. A giant in stature, asavage, fearless warrior, the huge black possessed also soul andjudgment in proportion to his bulk and his ferocity.

  Not once since his master had departed had he been beyond sight orsound of the bungalow, except when Lady Greystoke chose to canteracross the broad plain, or relieve the monotony of her loneliness by abrief hunting excursion. On such occasions Mugambi, mounted upon awiry Arab, had ridden close at her horse's heels.

  The raiders were still a long way off when the warrior's keen eyesdiscovered them. For a time he stood scrutinizing the advancing partyin silence, then he turned and ran rapidly in the direction of thenative huts which lay a few hundred yards below the bungalow.

  Here he called out to the lolling warriors. He issued orders rapidly.In compliance with them the men seized upon their weapons and theirshields. Some ran to call in the workers from the fields and to warnthe tenders of the flocks and herds. The majority followed Mugambiback toward the bungalow.

  The dust of the raiders was still a long distance away. Mugambi couldnot know positively that it hid an enemy; but he had spent a lifetimeof savage life in savage Africa, and he had seen parties before comethus unheralded. Sometimes they had come in peace and sometimes theyhad come in war--one could never tell. It was well to be prepared.Mugambi did not like the haste with which the strangers advanced.

  The Greystoke bungalow was not well adapted for defense. No palisadesurrounded it, for, situated as it was, in the heart of loyal Waziri,its master had anticipated no possibility of an attack in force by anyenemy. Heavy, wooden shutters there were to close the window aperturesagainst hostile arrows, and these Mugambi was engaged in lowering whenLady Greystoke appeared upon the veranda.

  "Why, Mugambi!" she exclaimed. "What has happened? Why are youlowering the shutters?"

  Mugambi pointed out across the plain to where a white-robed force ofmounted men was now distinctly visible.

  "Arabs," he explained. "They come for no good purpose in the absenceof the Great Bwana."

  Beyond the neat lawn and the flowering shrubs, Jane Clayton saw theglistening bodies of her Waziri. The sun glanced from the tips oftheir metal-shod spears, picked out the gorgeous colors in the feathersof their war bonnets, and reflected the high-lights from the glossyskins of their broad shoulders and high cheek bones.

  Jane Clayton surveyed them with unmixed feelings of pride andaffection. What harm could befall her with such as these to protecther?

  The raiders had halted now, a hundred yards out upon the plain.Mugambi had hastened down to join his warriors. He advanced a fewyards before them and raising his voice hailed the strangers. AchmetZek sat straight in his saddle before his henchmen.

  "Arab!" cried Mugambi. "What do you here?"

  "We come in peace," Achmet Zek called back.

  "Then turn and go in peace," replied Mugambi. "We do not want youhere. There can be no peace between Arab and Waziri."

  Mugambi, although not born in Waziri, had been adopted into the tribe,which now contained no member more jealous of its traditions and itsprowess than he.

  Achmet Zek drew to one side of his horde, speaking to his men in a lowvoice. A moment later, without warning, a ragged volley was pouredinto the ranks of the Waziri. A couple of warriors fell, the otherswere for charging the attackers; but Mugambi was a cautious as well asa brave leader. He knew the futility of charging mounted men armedwith muskets. He withdrew his force behind the shrubbery of thegarden. Some he dispatched to various other parts of the groundssurrounding the bungalow. Half a dozen he sent to the bungalow itselfwith instructions to keep their mistress within doors, and to protecther with their lives.

  Adopting the tactics of the desert fighters from which he had sprung,Achmet Zek led his followers at a gallop in a long, thin line,describing a great circle which drew closer and closer in toward thedefenders.

  At that part of the circle closest to the Waziri, a constant fusilladeof shots was poured into the bushes behind which the black warriors hadconcealed themselves. The latter, on their part, loosed their slimshafts at the nearest of the enemy.

  The Waziri, justly famed for their archery, found no cause to blush fortheir performance that day. Time and again some swarthy horseman threwhands above his head and toppled from his saddle, pierced by a deadlyarrow; but the contest was uneven. The Arabs outnumbered the Waziri;their bullets penetrated the shrubbery and found marks that the Arabriflemen had not even seen; and then Achmet Zek circled inward a halfmile above the bungalow, tore down a section of the fence, and led hismarauders within the grounds.

  Across the fields they charged at a mad run. Not again did they pauseto lower fences, instead, they drove their wild mounts straight forthem, clearing the obstacles as lightly as winged gulls.

  Mugambi saw them coming, and, calling those of his warriors whoremained, ran for the bungalow and the last stand. Upon the verandaLady Greystoke stood, rifle in hand. More than a single raider hadaccounted to her steady nerves and cool aim for his outlawry; more thana single pony raced, riderless, in the wake of the charging horde.

  Mugambi pushed his mistress back into the greater security of theinterior, and with his depleted force prepared to make a last standagainst the foe.

  On came the Arabs, shouting and waving their long guns above theirheads. Past the veranda they raced, pouring a deadly fire into thekneeling Waziri who discharged their volley of arrows from behind theirlong, oval shields--shields well adapted, perhaps, to stop a hostilearrow, or deflect a spear; but futile, quite, before the leadenmissiles of the riflemen.

  From beneath the half-raised shutters of the bungalow other bowmen dideffective service in greater security, and after the first assault,Mugambi withdrew his entire force within the building.

  Again and again the Arabs charged, at last forming a stationary circleabout the little fortress, and outside the effective range of thedefenders' arrows. From their new position they fired at will at thewindows. One by one the Waziri fell. Fewer and fewer were the arrowsthat replied to the guns of the raiders, and at last Achmet Ze
k feltsafe in ordering an assault.

  Firing as they ran, the bloodthirsty horde raced for the veranda. Adozen of them fell to the arrows of the defenders; but the majorityreached the door. Heavy gun butts fell upon it. The crash ofsplintered wood mingled with the report of a rifle as Jane Claytonfired through the panels upon the relentless foe.

  Upon both sides of the door men fell; but at last the frail barriergave to the vicious assaults of the maddened attackers; it crumpledinward and a dozen swarthy murderers leaped into the living-room. Atthe far end stood Jane Clayton surrounded by the remnant of her devotedguardians. The floor was covered by the bodies of those who alreadyhad given up their lives in her defense. In the forefront of herprotectors stood the giant Mugambi. The Arabs raised their rifles topour in the last volley that would effectually end all resistance; butAchmet Zek roared out a warning order that stayed their trigger fingers.

  "Fire not upon the woman!" he cried. "Who harms her, dies. Take thewoman alive!"

  The Arabs rushed across the room; the Waziri met them with their heavyspears. Swords flashed, long-barreled pistols roared out their sullendeath dooms. Mugambi launched his spear at the nearest of the enemywith a force that drove the heavy shaft completely through the Arab'sbody, then he seized a pistol from another, and grasping it by thebarrel brained all who forced their way too near his mistress.

  Emulating his example the few warriors who remained to him fought likedemons; but one by one they fell, until only Mugambi remained to defendthe life and honor of the ape-man's mate.

  From across the room Achmet Zek watched the unequal struggle and urgedon his minions. In his hands was a jeweled musket. Slowly he raisedit to his shoulder, waiting until another move should place Mugambi athis mercy without endangering the lives of the woman or any of his ownfollowers.

  At last the moment came, and Achmet Zek pulled the trigger. Without asound the brave Mugambi sank to the floor at the feet of Jane Clayton.

  An instant later she was surrounded and disarmed. Without a word theydragged her from the bungalow. A giant Negro lifted her to the pommelof his saddle, and while the raiders searched the bungalow andouthouses for plunder he rode with her beyond the gates and waited thecoming of his master.

  Jane Clayton saw the raiders lead the horses from the corral, and drivethe herds in from the fields. She saw her home plundered of all thatrepresented intrinsic worth in the eyes of the Arabs, and then she sawthe torch applied, and the flames lick up what remained.

  And at last, when the raiders assembled after glutting their fury andtheir avarice, and rode away with her toward the north, she saw thesmoke and the flames rising far into the heavens until the winding ofthe trail into the thick forests hid the sad view from her eyes.

  As the flames ate their way into the living-room, reaching out forkedtongues to lick up the bodies of the dead, one of that gruesome companywhose bloody welterings had long since been stilled, moved again. Itwas a huge black who rolled over upon his side and opened blood-shot,suffering eyes. Mugambi, whom the Arabs had left for dead, stilllived. The hot flames were almost upon him as he raised himselfpainfully upon his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward thedoorway.

  Again and again he sank weakly to the floor; but each time he roseagain and continued his pitiful way toward safety. After what seemedto him an interminable time, during which the flames had become averitable fiery furnace at the far side of the room, the great blackmanaged to reach the veranda, roll down the steps, and crawl off intothe cool safety of some nearby shrubbery.

  All night he lay there, alternately unconscious and painfully sentient;and in the latter state watching with savage hatred the lurid flameswhich still rose from burning crib and hay cock. A prowling lionroared close at hand; but the giant black was unafraid. There wasplace for but a single thought in his savage mind--revenge! revenge!revenge!