Chapter 8
A year had passed since the two Swedes had been driven in terror
from the savage country where The Sheik held sway. Little Meriem
still played with Geeka, lavishing all her childish love upon the
now almost hopeless ruin of what had never, even in its palmiest
days, possessed even a slight degree of loveliness. But to Meriem,
Geeka was all that was sweet and adorable. She carried to the deaf
ears of the battered ivory head all her sorrows all her hopes and
all her ambitions, for even in the face of hopelessness, in the
clutches of the dread authority from which there was no escape,
little Meriem yet cherished hopes and ambitions. It is true that
her ambitions were rather nebulous in form, consisting chiefly
of a desire to escape with Geeka to some remote and unknown spot
where there were no Sheiks, no Mabunus--where El Adrea could find
no entrance, and where she might play all day surrounded only by
flowers and birds and the harmless little monkeys playing in the
tree tops.
The Sheik had been away for a long time, conducting a caravan of
ivory, skins, and rubber far into the north. The interim had been
one of great peace for Meriem. It is true that Mabunu had still
been with her, to pinch or beat her as the mood seized the villainous
old hag; but Mabunu was only one. When The Sheik was there also
there were two of them, and The Sheik was stronger and more brutal
even than Mabunu. Little Meriem often wondered why the grim old
man hated her so. It is true that he was cruel and unjust to all
with whom he came in contact, but to Meriem he reserved his greatest
cruelties, his most studied injustices.
Today Meriem was squatting at the foot of a large tree which grew
inside the palisade close to the edge of the village. She was
fashioning a tent of leaves for Geeka. Before the tent were some
pieces of wood and small leaves and a few stones. These were the
household utensils. Geeka was cooking dinner. As the little girl
played she prattled continuously to her companion, propped in a
sitting position with a couple of twigs. She was totally absorbed
in the domestic duties of Geeka--so much so that she did not note
the gentle swaying of the branches of the tree above her as they
bent to the body of the creature that had entered them stealthily
from the jungle.
In happy ignorance the little girl played on, while from above two
steady eyes looked down upon her--unblinking, unwavering. There
was none other than the little girl in this part of the village,
which had been almost deserted since The Sheik had left long months
before upon his journey toward the north.
And out in the jungle, an hour's march from the village, The Sheik
was leading his returning caravan homeward.
A year had passed since the white men had fired upon the lad and
driven him back into the jungle to take up his search for the only
remaining creatures to whom he might look for companionship--the
great apes. For months the two had wandered eastward, deeper and
deeper into the jungle. The year had done much for the boy--turning
his already mighty muscles to thews of steel, developing his
woodcraft to a point where it verged upon the uncanny, perfecting
his arboreal instincts, and training him in the use of both natural
and artificial weapons.
He had become at last a creature of marvelous physical powers
and mental cunning. He was still but a boy, yet so great was his
strength that the powerful anthropoid with which he often engaged
in mimic battle was no match for him. Akut had taught him to fight
as the bull ape fights, nor ever was there a teacher better fitted
to instruct in the savage warfare of primordial man, or a pupil
better equipped to profit by the lessons of a master.
As the two searched for a band of the almost extinct species
of ape to which Akut belonged they lived upon the best the jungle
afforded. Antelope and zebra fell to the boy's spear, or were dragged
down by the two powerful beasts of prey who leaped upon them from
some overhanging limb or from the ambush of the undergrowth beside
the trail to the water hole or the ford.
The pelt of a leopard covered the nakedness of the youth; but the
wearing of it had not been dictated by any prompting of modesty.
With the rifle shots of the white men showering about him he had
reverted to the savagery of the beast that is inherent in each
of us, but that flamed more strongly in this boy whose father had
been raised a beast of prey. He wore his leopard skin at first
in response to a desire to parade a trophy of his prowess, for he
had slain the leopard with his knife in a hand-to-hand combat. He
saw that the skin was beautiful, which appealed to his barbaric
sense of ornamentation, and when it stiffened and later commenced
to decompose because of his having no knowledge of how to cure or
tan it was with sorrow and regret that he discarded it. Later,
when he chanced upon a lone, black warrior wearing the counterpart
of it, soft and clinging and beautiful from proper curing, it
required but an instant to leap from above upon the shoulders of
the unsuspecting black, sink a keen blade into his heart and possess
the rightly preserved hide.
There were no after-qualms of conscience. In the jungle might is
right, nor does it take long to inculcate this axiom in the mind
of a jungle dweller, regardless of what his past training may have
been. That the black would have killed him had he had the chance
the boy knew full well. Neither he nor the black were any more
sacred than the lion, or the buffalo, the zebra or the deer, or any
other of the countless creatures who roamed, or slunk, or flew,
or wriggled through the dark mazes of the forest. Each had but
a single life, which was sought by many. The greater number of
enemies slain the better chance to prolong that life. So the boy
smiled and donned the finery of the vanquished, and went his way
with Akut, searching, always searching for the elusive anthropoids
who were to welcome them with open arms. And at last they found
them. Deep in the jungle, buried far from sight of man, they came
upon such another little natural arena as had witnessed the wild
ceremony of the Dum-Dum in which the boy's father had taken part
long years before.
First, at a great distance, they heard the beating of the drum of
the great apes. They were sleeping in the safety of a huge tree
when the booming sound smote upon their ears. Both awoke at once.
Akut was the first to interpret the strange cadence.
"The great apes!" he growled. "They dance the Dum-Dum. Come,
Korak, son of Tarzan, let us go to our people."
Months before Akut had given the boy a name of his own choosing,
since he could not master the man given name of Jack. Korak is as
near as it may be interpreted into human speech. In the language
of the apes it means Killer. Now the Killer rose upon the branch
of the great tree where he had been sleeping with his back braced
against the stem. He stretched his lithe young muscles, the moonlight
filtering through the foliage from above dappling his brown skin
with little patches of light.
The ape, too, stood up, half squatting after the manner of his
kind. Low growls rumbled from the bottom of his deep chest--growls
of excited anticipation. The boy growled in harmony with the ape.
Then the anthropoid slid softly to the ground. Close by, in the
direction of the booming drum, lay a clearing which they must cross.
The moon flooded it with silvery light. Half-erect, the great ape
shuffled into the full glare of the moon. At his side, swinging
gracefully along in marked contrast to the awkwardness of his
companion, strode the boy, the dark, shaggy coat of the one brushing
against the smooth, clear hide of the other. The lad was humming
now, a music hall air that had found its way to the forms of the
great English public school that was to see him no more. He was
happy and expectant. The moment he had looked forward to for so
long was about to be realized. He was coming into his own. He was
coming home. As the months had dragged or flown along, retarded or
spurred on as privation or adventure predominated, thoughts of his
own home, while oft recurring, had become less vivid. The old life
had grown to seem more like a dream than a reality, and the balking
of his determination to reach the coast and return to London had
finally thrown the hope of realization so remotely into the future
that it too now seemed little more than a pleasant but hopeless
dream.
Now all thoughts of London and civilization were crowded so far
into the background of his brain that they might as well have been
non-existent. Except for form and mental development he was as
much an ape as the great, fierce creature at his side.
In the exuberance of his joy he slapped his companion roughly on
the side of the head. Half in anger, half in play the anthropoid
turned upon him, his fangs bared and glistening. Long, hairy arms
reached out to seize him, and, as they had done a thousand times
before, the two clinched in mimic battle, rolling upon the sward,
striking, growling and biting, though never closing their teeth in
more than a rough pinch. It was wondrous practice for them both.
The boy brought into play wrestling tricks that he had learned at
school, and many of these Akut learned to use and to foil. And
from the ape the boy learned the methods that had been handed down
to Akut from some common ancestor of them both, who had roamed the
teeming earth when ferns were trees and crocodiles were birds.
But there was one art the boy possessed which Akut could not master,
though he did achieve fair proficiency in it for an ape--boxing.
To have his bull-like charges stopped and crumpled with a suddenly
planted fist upon the end of his snout, or a painful jolt in the
short ribs, always surprised Akut. It angered him too, and at
such times his mighty jaws came nearer to closing in the soft flesh
of his friend than at any other, for he was still an ape, with an
ape's short temper and brutal instincts; but the difficulty was in
catching his tormentor while his rage lasted, for when he lost his
head and rushed madly into close quarters with the boy he discovered
that the stinging hail of blows released upon him always found
their mark and effectually stopped him--effectually and painfully.
Then he would withdraw growling viciously, backing away with grinning
jaws distended, to sulk for an hour or so.
Tonight they did not box. Just for a moment or two they wrestled
playfully, until the scent of Sheeta, the panther, brought them
to their feet, alert and wary. The great cat was passing through
the jungle in front of them. For a moment it paused, listening.
The boy and the ape growled menacingly in chorus and the carnivore
moved on.
Then the two took up their journey toward the sound of the Dum-Dum.
Louder and louder came the beating of the drum. Now, at last, they
could hear the growling of the dancing apes, and strong to their
nostrils came the scent of their kind. The lad trembled with
excitement. The hair down Akut's spine stiffened--the symptoms of
happiness and anger are often similar.
Silently they crept through the jungle as they neared the meeting
place of the apes. Now they were in the trees, worming their way
forward, alert for sentinels. Presently through a break in the
foliage the scene burst upon the eager eyes of the boy. To Akut
it was a familiar one; but to Korak it was all new. His nerves
tingled at the savage sight. The great bulls were dancing in the
moonlight, leaping in an irregular circle about the flat-topped
earthen drum about which three old females sat beating its resounding
top with sticks worn smooth by long years of use.
Akut, knowing the temper and customs of his kind, was too wise to
make their presence known until the frenzy of the dance had passed.
After the drum was quiet and the bellies of the tribe well-filled
he would hail them. Then would come a parley, after which he and
Korak would be accepted into membership by the community. There
might be those who would object; but such could be overcome by brute
force, of which he and the lad had an ample surplus. For weeks,
possibly months, their presence might cause ever decreasing suspicion
among others of the tribe; but eventually they would become as born
brothers to these strange apes.
He hoped that they had been among those who had known Tarzan, for
that would help in the introduction of the lad and in the consummation
of Akut's dearest wish, that Korak should become king of the apes.
It was with difficulty, however, that Akut kept the boy from rushing
into the midst of the dancing anthropoids--an act that would have
meant the instant extermination of them both, since the hysterical
frenzy into which the great apes work themselves during the
performance of their strange rites is of such a nature that even
the most ferocious of the carnivora give them a wide berth at such
times.
As the moon declined slowly toward the lofty, foliaged horizon of
the amphitheater the booming of the drum decreased and lessened
were the exertions of the dancers, until, at last, the final note
was struck and the huge beasts turned to fall upon the feast they
had dragged hither for the orgy.
From what he had seen and heard Akut was able to explain to Korak
that the rites proclaimed the choosing of a new king, and he
pointed out to the boy the massive figure of the shaggy monarch,
come into his kingship, no doubt, as many human rulers have come
into theirs--by the murder of his predecessor.
When the apes had filled their bellies and many of them had sought
the bases of the trees to curl up in sleep Akut plucked Korak by
the arm.
"Come," he whispered. "Come slowly. Follow me. Do as Akut does."
Then he advanced slowly through the trees until he stood upon a
bough overhanging one side of the amphitheater. Here he stood in
silence for a moment. Then he uttered a low growl. Instantly a
score of apes leaped to their feet. There savage little eyes sped
quickly around the periphery of the clearing. The king ape was
the first to see the two figures upon the branch. He gave voice
to an ominous growl. Then he took a few lumbering steps in the
direction of the intruders. His hair was bristling. His legs were
stiff, imparting a halting, jerky motion to his gait. Behind him
pressed a number of bulls.
He stopped just a little before he came beneath the two--just far
enough to be beyond their spring. Wary king! Here he stood rocking
himself to and fro upon his short legs, baring his fangs in hideous
grinnings, rumbling out an ever increasing volume of growls, which
were slowly but steadily increasing to the proportions of roars.
Akut knew that he was planning an attack upon them. The old ape
did not wish to fight. He had come with the boy to cast his lot
with the tribe.
"I am Akut," he said. "This is Korak. Korak is the son of Tarzan
who was king of the apes. I, too, was king of the apes who dwelt
in the midst of the great waters. We have come to hunt with you,
to fight with you. We are great hunters. We are mighty fighters.
Let us come in peace."
The king ceased his rocking. He eyed the pair from beneath his
beetling brows. His bloodshot eyes were savage and crafty. His
kingship was very new and he was jealous of it. He feared the
encroachments of two strange apes. The sleek, brown, hairless body
of the lad spelled "man," and man he feared and hated.
"Go away!" he growled. "Go away, or I will kill you."
The eager lad, standing behind the great Akut, had been pulsing
with anticipation and happiness. He wanted to leap down among
these hairy monsters and show them that he was their friend, that
he was one of them. He had expected that they would receive him
with open arms, and now the words of the king ape filled him with
indignation and sorrow. The blacks had set upon him and driven
him away. Then he had turned to the white men--to those of his
own kind--only to hear the ping of bullets where he had expected
words of cordial welcome. The great apes had remained his final
hope. To them he looked for the companionship man had denied him.
Suddenly rage overwhelmed him.
The king ape was almost directly beneath him. The others were
formed in a half circle several yards behind the king. They were
watching events interestedly. Before Akut could guess his intention,
or prevent, the boy leaped to the ground directly in the path of
the king, who had now succeeded in stimulating himself to a frenzy
of fury.
"I am Korak!" shouted the boy. "I am the Killer. I came to live
among you as a friend. You want to drive me away. Very well,
then, I shall go; but before I go I shall show you that the son
of Tarzan is your master, as his father was before him--that he is
not afraid of your king or you."
For an instant the king ape had stood motionless with surprise.
He had expected no such rash action upon the part of either of the
intruders. Akut was equally surprised. Now he shouted excitedly
for Korak to come back, for he knew that in the sacred arena the
other bulls might be expected to come to the assistance of their
king against an outsider, though there was small likelihood that
the king would need assistance. Once those mighty jaws closed
upon the boy's soft neck the end would come quickly. To leap to
his rescue would mean death for Akut, too; but the brave old ape
never hesitated. Bristling and growling, he dropped to the sward
just as the king ape charged.
The beast's hands clutched for their hold as the animal sprang upon
the lad. The fierce jaws were wide distended to bury the yellow
fangs deeply in the brown hide. Korak, too, leaped forward to meet
the attack; but leaped crouching, beneath the outstretched arms.
At the instant of contact the lad pivoted on one foot, and with
all the weight of his body and the strength of his trained muscles
drove a clenched fist into the bull's stomach. With a gasping
shriek the king ape collapsed, clutching futilely for the agile,
naked creature nimbly sidestepping from his grasp.
Howls of rage and dismay broke from the bull apes behind the fallen
king, as with murder in their savage little hearts they rushed
forward upon Korak and Akut; but the old ape was too wise to court
any such unequal encounter. To have counseled the boy to retreat now
would have been futile, and Akut knew it. To delay even a second
in argument would have sealed the death warrants of them both.
There was but a single hope and Akut seized it. Grasping the lad
around the waist he lifted him bodily from the ground, and turning
ran swiftly toward another tree which swung low branches above the
arena. Close upon their heels swarmed the hideous mob; but Akut,
old though he was and burdened by the weight of the struggling
Korak, was still fleeter than his pursuers.
With a bound he grasped a low limb, and with the agility of a little
monkey swung himself and the boy to temporary safety. Nor did he
hesitate even here; but raced on through the jungle night, bearing
his burden to safety. For a time the bulls pursued; but presently,
as the swifter outdistanced the slower and found themselves separated
from their fellows they abandoned the chase, standing roaring and
screaming until the jungle reverberated to their hideous noises.
Then they turned and retraced their way to the amphitheater.
When Akut felt assured that they were no longer pursued he stopped
and released Korak. The boy was furious.
"Why did you drag me away?" he cried. "I would have taught them!
I would have taught them all! Now they will think that I am afraid
of them."
"What they think cannot harm you," said Akut. "You are alive. If
I had not brought you away you would be dead now and so would I.
Do you not know that even Numa slinks from the path of the great
apes when there are many of them and they are mad?"
