Chapter 8
The Dance of Death
Through the luxuriant, tangled vegetation of the Stygian jungle
night a great lithe body made its way sinuously and in utter silence
upon its soft padded feet. Only two blazing points of yellow-green
flame shone occasionally with the reflected light of the equatorial
moon that now and again pierced the softly sighing roof rustling
in the night wind.
Occasionally the beast would stop with high-held nose, sniffing
searchingly. At other times a quick, brief incursion into the
branches above delayed it momentarily in its steady journey toward
the east. To its sensitive nostrils came the subtle unseen spoor
of many a tender four-footed creature, bringing the slaver of hunger
to the cruel, drooping jowl.
But steadfastly it kept on its way, strangely ignoring the cravings
of appetite that at another time would have sent the rolling,
fur-clad muscles flying at some soft throat.
All that night the creature pursued its lonely way, and the next
day it halted only to make a single kill, which it tore to fragments
and devoured with sullen, grumbling rumbles as though half famished
for lack of food.
It was dusk when it approached the palisade that surrounded a large
native village. Like the shadow of a swift and silent death it
circled the village, nose to ground, halting at last close to the
palisade, where it almost touched the backs of several huts. Here
the beast sniffed for a moment, and then, turning its head upon
one side, listened with up-pricked ears.
What it heard was no sound by the standards of human ears, yet
to the highly attuned and delicate organs of the beast a message
seemed to be borne to the savage brain. A wondrous transformation
was wrought in the motionless mass of statuesque bone and muscle
that had an instant before stood as though carved out of the living
bronze.
As if it had been poised upon steel springs, suddenly released, it
rose quickly and silently to the top of the palisade, disappearing,
stealthily and catlike, into the dark space between the wall and
the back of an adjacent hut.
In the village street beyond women were preparing many little fires
and fetching cooking-pots filled with water, for a great feast
was to be celebrated ere the night was many hours older. About
a stout stake near the centre of the circling fires a little knot
of black warriors stood conversing, their bodies smeared with white
and blue and ochre in broad and grotesque bands. Great circles
of colour were drawn about their eyes and lips, their breasts and
abdomens, and from their clay-plastered coiffures rose gay feathers
and bits of long, straight wire.
The village was preparing for the feast, while in a hut at one side
of the scene of the coming orgy the bound victim of their bestial
appetites lay waiting for the end. And such an end!
Tarzan of the Apes, tensing his mighty muscles, strained at the
bonds that pinioned him; but they had been re-enforced many times
at the instigation of the Russian, so that not even the ape-man's
giant brawn could budge them.
Death!
Tarzan had looked the Hideous Hunter in the face many a time, and
smiled. And he would smile again tonight when he knew the end was
coming quickly; but now his thoughts were not of himself, but of
those others--the dear ones who must suffer most because of his
passing.
Jane would never know the manner of it. For that he thanked Heaven;
and he was thankful also that she at least was safe in the heart
of the world's greatest city. Safe among kind and loving friends
who would do their best to lighten her misery.
But the boy!
Tarzan writhed at the thought of him. His son! And now he--the
mighty Lord of the Jungle--he, Tarzan, King of the Apes, the only
one in all the world fitted to find and save the child from the
horrors that Rokoff's evil mind had planned--had been trapped like
a silly, dumb creature. He was to die in a few hours, and with
him would go the child's last chance of succour.
Rokoff had been in to see and revile and abuse him several times
during the afternoon; but he had been able to wring no word of
remonstrance or murmur of pain from the lips of the giant captive.
So at last he had given up, reserving his particular bit of exquisite
mental torture for the last moment, when, just before the savage
spears of the cannibals should for ever make the object of his
hatred immune to further suffering, the Russian planned to reveal
to his enemy the true whereabouts of his wife whom he thought safe
in England.
Dusk had fallen upon the village, and the ape-men could hear the
preparations going forward for the torture and the feast. The
dance of death he could picture in his mind's eye--for he had seen
the thing many times in the past. Now he was to be the central
figure, bound to the stake.
The torture of the slow death as the circling warriors cut him
to bits with the fiendish skill, that mutilated without bringing
unconsciousness, had no terrors for him. He was inured to suffering
and to the sight of blood and to cruel death; but the desire to
live was no less strong within him, and until the last spark of
life should flicker and go out, his whole being would remain quick
with hope and determination. Let them relax their watchfulness
but for an instant, he knew that his cunning mind and giant muscles
would find a way to escape--escape and revenge.
As he lay, thinking furiously on every possibility of self-salvation,
there came to his sensitive nostrils a faint and a familiar scent.
Instantly every faculty of his mind was upon the alert. Presently
his trained ears caught the sound of the soundless presence
without--behind the hut wherein he lay. His lips moved, and
though no sound came forth that might have been appreciable to a
human ear beyond the walls of his prison, yet he realized that the
one beyond would hear. Already he knew who that one was, for his
nostrils had told him as plainly as your eyes or mine tell us of
the identity of an old friend whom we come upon in broad daylight.
An instant later he heard the soft sound of a fur-clad body and
padded feet scaling the outer wall behind the hut and then a tearing
at the poles which formed the wall. Presently through the hole
thus made slunk a great beast, pressing its cold muzzle close to
his neck.
It was Sheeta, the panther.
The beast snuffed round the prostrate man, whining a little.
There was a limit to the interchange of ideas which could take
place between these two, and so Tarzan could not be sure that Sheeta
understood all that he attempted to communicate to him. That the
man was tied and helpless Sheeta could, of course, see; but that
to the mind of the panther this would carry any suggestion of harm
in so far as his master was concerned, Tarzan could not guess.
What had brought the beast to him? The fact that he had come
augured well for what he might accomplish; but when Tarzan tried
to get Sheeta to gnaw his bonds asunder the great animal could
not seem to understand what was expected of him, and, instead, but
licked the wrists and arms of the prisoner.
Presently there came an interruption. Some one was approaching
the hut. Sheeta gave a low growl and slunk into the blackness of
a far corner. Evidently the visitor did not hear the warning sound,
for almost immediately he entered the hut--a tall, naked, savage
warrior.
He came to Tarzan's side and pricked him with a spear. From the
lips of the ape-man came a weird, uncanny sound, and in answer to
it there leaped from the blackness of the hut's farthermost corner
a bolt of fur-clad death. Full upon the breast of the painted
savage the great beast struck, burying sharp talons in the black
flesh and sinking great yellow fangs in the ebon throat.
There was a fearful scream of anguish and terror from the black, and
mingled with it was the hideous challenge of the killing panther.
Then came silence--silence except for the rending of bloody flesh
and the crunching of human bones between mighty jaws.
The noise had brought sudden quiet to the village without. Then
there came the sound of voices in consultation.
High-pitched, fear-filled voices, and deep, low tones of authority,
as the chief spoke. Tarzan and the panther heard the approaching
footsteps of many men, and then, to Tarzan's surprise, the great
cat rose from across the body of its kill, and slunk noiselessly
from the hut through the aperture through which it had entered.
The man heard the soft scraping of the body as it passed over the
top of the palisade, and then silence. From the opposite side of
the hut he heard the savages approaching to investigate.
He had little hope that Sheeta would return, for had the great cat
intended to defend him against all comers it would have remained
by his side as it heard the approaching savages without.
Tarzan knew how strange were the workings of the brains of the mighty
carnivora of the jungle--how fiendishly fearless they might be in
the face of certain death, and again how timid upon the slightest
provocation. There was doubt in his mind that some note of the
approaching blacks vibrating with fear had struck an answering
chord in the nervous system of the panther, sending him slinking
through the jungle, his tail between his legs.
The man shrugged. Well, what of it? He had expected to die, and,
after all, what might Sheeta have done for him other than to maul
a couple of his enemies before a rifle in the hands of one of the
whites should have dispatched him!
If the cat could have released him! Ah! that would have resulted
in a very different story; but it had proved beyond the understanding
of Sheeta, and now the beast was gone and Tarzan must definitely
abandon hope.
The natives were at the entrance to the hut now, peering fearfully
into the dark interior. Two in advance held lighted torches in
their left hands and ready spears in their right. They held back
timorously against those behind, who were pushing them forward.
The shrieks of the panther's victim, mingled with those of the
great cat, had wrought mightily upon their poor nerves, and now
the awful silence of the dark interior seemed even more terribly
ominous than had the frightful screaming.
Presently one of those who was being forced unwillingly within hit
upon a happy scheme for learning first the precise nature of the
danger which menaced him from the silent interior. With a quick
movement he flung his lighted torch into the centre of the hut.
Instantly all within was illuminated for a brief second before the
burning brand was dashed out against the earth floor.
There was the figure of the white prisoner still securely bound as
they had last seen him, and in the centre of the hut another figure
equally as motionless, its throat and breasts horribly torn and
mangled.
The sight that met the eyes of the foremost savages inspired more
terror within their superstitious breasts than would the presence
of Sheeta, for they saw only the result of a ferocious attack upon
one of their fellows.
Not seeing the cause, their fear-ridden minds were free to attribute
the ghastly work to supernatural causes, and with the thought
they turned, screaming, from the hut, bowling over those who stood
directly behind them in the exuberance of their terror.
For an hour Tarzan heard only the murmur of excited voices from
the far end of the village. Evidently the savages were once more
attempting to work up their flickering courage to a point that would
permit them to make another invasion of the hut, for now and then
came a savage yell, such as the warriors give to bolster up their
bravery upon the field of battle.
But in the end it was two of the whites who first entered, carrying
torches and guns. Tarzan was not surprised to discover that neither
of them was Rokoff. He would have wagered his soul that no power
on earth could have tempted that great coward to face the unknown
menace of the hut.
When the natives saw that the white men were not attacked they,
too, crowded into the interior, their voices hushed with terror
as they looked upon the mutilated corpse of their comrade. The
whites tried in vain to elicit an explanation from Tarzan; but to
all their queries he but shook his head, a grim and knowing smile
curving his lips.
At last Rokoff came.
His face grew very white as his eyes rested upon the bloody thing
grinning up at him from the floor, the face set in a death mask of
excruciating horror.
"Come!" he said to the chief. "Let us get to work and finish this
demon before he has an opportunity to repeat this thing upon more
of your people."
The chief gave orders that Tarzan should be lifted and carried to
the stake; but it was several minutes before he could prevail upon
any of his men to touch the prisoner.
At last, however, four of the younger warriors dragged Tarzan
roughly from the hut, and once outside the pall of terror seemed
lifted from the savage hearts.
A score of howling blacks pushed and buffeted the prisoner down
the village street and bound him to the post in the centre of the
circle of little fires and boiling cooking-pots.
When at last he was made fast and seemed quite helpless and beyond
the faintest hope of succour, Rokoff's shrivelled wart of courage
swelled to its usual proportions when danger was not present.
He stepped close to the ape-man, and, seizing a spear from the hands
of one of the savages, was the first to prod the helpless victim.
A little stream of blood trickled down the giant's smooth skin from
the wound in his side; but no murmur of pain passed his lips.
The smile of contempt upon his face seemed to infuriate the Russian.
With a volley of oaths he leaped at the helpless captive, beating
him upon the face with his clenched fists and kicking him mercilessly
about the legs.
Then he raised the heavy spear to drive it through the mighty heart,
and still Tarzan of the Apes smiled contemptuously upon him.
Before Rokoff could drive the weapon home the chief sprang upon
him and dragged him away from his intended victim.
"Stop, white man!" he cried. "Rob us of this prisoner and our
death-dance, and you yourself may have to take his place."
The threat proved most effective in keeping the Russian from further
assaults upon the prisoner, though he continued to stand a little
apart and hurl taunts at his enemy. He told Tarzan that he
himself was going to eat the ape-man's heart. He enlarged upon
the horrors of the future life of Tarzan's son, and intimated that
his vengeance would reach as well to Jane Clayton.
"You think your wife safe in England," said Rokoff. "Poor fool!
She is even now in the hands of one not even of decent birth, and
far from the safety of London and the protection of her friends.
I had not meant to tell you this until I could bring to you upon
Jungle Island proof of her fate.
"Now that you are about to die the most unthinkably horrid death
that it is given a white man to die--let this word of the plight
of your wife add to the torments that you must suffer before the
last savage spear-thrust releases you from your torture."
The dance had commenced now, and the yells of the circling warriors
drowned Rokoff's further attempts to distress his victim.
The leaping savages, the flickering firelight playing upon their
painted bodies, circled about the victim at the stake.
To Tarzan's memory came a similar scene, when he had rescued
D'Arnot from a like predicament at the last moment before the final
spear-thrust should have ended his sufferings. Who was there now
to rescue him? In all the world there was none able to save him
from the torture and the death.
The thought that these human fiends would devour him when the
dance was done caused him not a single qualm of horror or disgust.
It did not add to his sufferings as it would have to those of an
ordinary white man, for all his life Tarzan had seen the beasts of
the jungle devour the flesh of their kills.
Had he not himself battled for the grisly forearm of a great ape
at that long-gone Dum-Dum, when he had slain the fierce Tublat and
won his niche in the respect of the Apes of Kerchak?
The dancers were leaping more closely to him now. The spears were
commencing to find his body in the first torturing pricks that
prefaced the more serious thrusts.
It would not be long now. The ape-man longed for the last savage
lunge that would end his misery.
And then, far out in the mazes of the weird jungle, rose a shrill
scream.
For an instant the dancers paused, and in the silence of the interval
there rose from the lips of the fast-bound white man an answering
shriek, more fearsome and more terrible than that of the jungle-beast
that had roused it.
For several minutes the blacks hesitated; then, at the urging of
Rokoff and their chief, they leaped in to finish the dance and the
victim; but ere ever another spear touched the brown hide a tawny
streak of green-eyed hate and ferocity bounded from the door of the
hut in which Tarzan had been imprisoned, and Sheeta, the panther,
stood snarling beside his master.
For an instant the blacks and the whites stood transfixed with
terror. Their eyes were riveted upon the bared fangs of the jungle
cat.
Only Tarzan of the Apes saw what else there was emerging from the
dark interior of the hut.
