Chapter 16
To Meriem, in her new home, the days passed quickly. At first she
was all anxiety to be off into the jungle searching for her Korak.
Bwana, as she insisted upon calling her benefactor, dissuaded her
from making the attempt at once by dispatching a head man with
a party of blacks to Kovudoo's village with instructions to learn
from the old savage how he came into possession of the white girl
and as much of her antecedents as might be culled from the black
chieftain. Bwana particularly charged his head man with the duty
of questioning Kovudoo relative to the strange character whom the
girl called Korak, and of searching for the ape-man if he found the
slightest evidence upon which to ground a belief in the existence
of such an individual. Bwana was more than fully convinced that
Korak was a creature of the girl's disordered imagination. He
believed that the terrors and hardships she had undergone during
captivity among the blacks and her frightful experience with the
two Swedes had unbalanced her mind but as the days passed and he
became better acquainted with her and able to observe her under the
ordinary conditions of the quiet of his African home he was forced
to admit that her strange tale puzzled him not a little, for there
was no other evidence whatever that Meriem was not in full possession
of her normal faculties.
The white man's wife, whom Meriem had christened "My Dear" from
having first heard her thus addressed by Bwana, took not only
a deep interest in the little jungle waif because of her forlorn
and friendless state, but grew to love her as well for her sunny
disposition and natural charm of temperament. And Meriem, similarly
impressed by little attributes in the gentle, cultured woman,
reciprocated the other's regard and affection.
And so the days flew by while Meriem waited the return of the head
man and his party from the country of Kovudoo. They were short days,
for into them were crowded many hours of insidious instruction of
the unlettered child by the lonely woman. She commenced at once
to teach the girl English without forcing it upon her as a task.
She varied the instruction with lessons in sewing and deportment,
nor once did she let Meriem guess that it was not all play. Nor
was this difficult, since the girl was avid to learn. Then there
were pretty dresses to be made to take the place of the single
leopard skin and in this she found the child as responsive and
enthusiastic as any civilized miss of her acquaintance.
A month passed before the head man returned--a month that had
transformed the savage, half-naked little tarmangani into a daintily
frocked girl of at least outward civilization. Meriem had progressed
rapidly with the intricacies of the English language, for Bwana
and My Dear had persistently refused to speak Arabic from the time
they had decided that Meriem must learn English, which had been a
day or two after her introduction into their home.
The report of the head man plunged Meriem into a period of despondency,
for he had found the village of Kovudoo deserted nor, search as he
would, could he discover a single native anywhere in the vicinity.
For some time he had camped near the village, spending the days in
a systematic search of the environs for traces of Meriem's Korak;
but in this quest, too, had he failed. He had seen neither apes
nor ape-man. Meriem at first insisted upon setting forth herself
in search of Korak, but Bwana prevailed upon her to wait. He would
go himself, he assured her, as soon as he could find the time, and
at last Meriem consented to abide by his wishes; but it was months
before she ceased to mourn almost hourly for her Korak.
My Dear grieved with the grieving girl and did her best to comfort
and cheer her. She told her that if Korak lived he would find her;
but all the time she believed that Korak had never existed beyond
the child's dreams. She planned amusements to distract Meriem's
attention from her sorrow, and she instituted a well-designed
campaign to impress upon the child the desirability of civilized
life and customs. Nor was this difficult, as she was soon to learn,
for it rapidly became evident that beneath the uncouth savagery
of the girl was a bed rock of innate refinement--a nicety of taste
and predilection that quite equaled that of her instructor.
My Dear was delighted. She was lonely and childless, and so she
lavished upon this little stranger all the mother love that would
have gone to her own had she had one. The result was that by the
end of the first year none might have guessed that Meriem ever had
existed beyond the lap of culture and luxury.
She was sixteen now, though she easily might have passed for
nineteen, and she was very good to look upon, with her black hair
and her tanned skin and all the freshness and purity of health and
innocence. Yet she still nursed her secret sorrow, though she no
longer mentioned it to My Dear. Scarce an hour passed that did
not bring its recollection of Korak, and its poignant yearning to
see him again.
Meriem spoke English fluently now, and read and wrote it as well.
One day My Dear spoke jokingly to her in French and to her surprise
Meriem replied in the same tongue--slowly, it is true, and haltingly;
but none the less in excellent French, such, though, as a little
child might use. Thereafter they spoke a little French each day,
and My Dear often marveled that the girl learned this language with
a facility that was at times almost uncanny. At first Meriem had
puckered her narrow, arched, little eye brows as though trying to
force recollection of something all but forgotten which the new
words suggested, and then, to her own astonishment as well as to
that of her teacher she had used other French words than those in
the lessons--used them properly and with a pronunciation that the
English woman knew was more perfect than her own; but Meriem could
neither read nor write what she spoke so well, and as My Dear
considered a knowledge of correct English of the first importance,
other than conversational French was postponed for a later day.
"You doubtless heard French spoken at times in your father's douar,"
suggested My Dear, as the most reasonable explanation.
Meriem shook her head.
"It may be," she said, "but I do not recall ever having seen
a Frenchman in my father's company--he hated them and would have
nothing whatever to do with them, and I am quite sure that I never
heard any of these words before, yet at the same time I find them
all familiar. I cannot understand it."
"Neither can I," agreed My Dear.
It was about this time that a runner brought a letter that, when
she learned the contents, filled Meriem with excitement. Visitors
were coming! A number of English ladies and gentlemen had accepted
My Dear's invitation to spend a month of hunting and exploring with
them. Meriem was all expectancy. What would these strangers be
like? Would they be as nice to her as had Bwana and My Dear, or
would they be like the other white folk she had known--cruel and
relentless. My Dear assured her that they all were gentle folk
and that she would find them kind, considerate and honorable.
To My Dear's surprise there was none of the shyness of the wild
creature in Meriem's anticipation of the visit of strangers.
She looked forward to their coming with curiosity and with a certain
pleasurable anticipation when once she was assured that they would
not bite her. In fact she appeared no different than would any
pretty young miss who had learned of the expected coming of company.
Korak's image was still often in her thoughts, but it aroused now
a less well-defined sense of bereavement. A quiet sadness pervaded
Meriem when she thought of him; but the poignant grief of her loss
when it was young no longer goaded her to desperation. Yet she was
still loyal to him. She still hoped that some day he would find
her, nor did she doubt for a moment but that he was searching for
her if he still lived. It was this last suggestion that caused her
the greatest perturbation. Korak might be dead. It scarce seemed
possible that one so well-equipped to meet the emergencies of
jungle life should have succumbed so young; yet when she had last
seen him he had been beset by a horde of armed warriors, and should
he have returned to the village again, as she well knew he must
have, he may have been killed. Even her Korak could not, single
handed, slay an entire tribe.
At last the visitors arrived. There were three men and two women--the
wives of the two older men. The youngest member of the party was
Hon. Morison Baynes, a young man of considerable wealth who, having
exhausted all the possibilities for pleasure offered by the capitals
of Europe, had gladly seized upon this opportunity to turn to
another continent for excitement and adventure.
He looked upon all things un-European as rather more than less
impossible, still he was not at all averse to enjoying the novelty
of unaccustomed places, and making the most of strangers indigenous
thereto, however unspeakable they might have seemed to him at home.
In manner he was suave and courteous to all--if possible a trifle
more punctilious toward those he considered of meaner clay than
toward the few he mentally admitted to equality.
Nature had favored him with a splendid physique and a handsome
face, and also with sufficient good judgment to appreciate that
while he might enjoy the contemplation of his superiority to the
masses, there was little likelihood of the masses being equally
entranced by the same cause. And so he easily maintained the
reputation of being a most democratic and likeable fellow, and
indeed he was likable. Just a shade of his egotism was occasionally
apparent--never sufficient to become a burden to his associates.
And this, briefly, was the Hon. Morison Baynes of luxurious European
civilization. What would be the Hon. Morison Baynes of central
Africa it were difficult to guess.
Meriem, at first, was shy and reserved in the presence of the
strangers. Her benefactors had seen fit to ignore mention of her
strange past, and so she passed as their ward whose antecedents
not having been mentioned were not to be inquired into. The guests
found her sweet and unassuming, laughing, vivacious and a never
exhausted storehouse of quaint and interesting jungle lore.
She had ridden much during her year with Bwana and My Dear. She
knew each favorite clump of concealing reeds along the river that
the buffalo loved best. She knew a dozen places where lions laired,
and every drinking hole in the drier country twenty-five miles back
from the river. With unerring precision that was almost uncanny she
could track the largest or the smallest beast to his hiding place.
But the thing that baffled them all was her instant consciousness
of the presence of carnivora that others, exerting their faculties
to the utmost, could neither see nor hear.
The Hon. Morison Baynes found Meriem a most beautiful and charming
companion. He was delighted with her from the first. Particularly
so, it is possible, because he had not thought to find companionship
of this sort upon the African estate of his London friends. They
were together a great deal as they were the only unmarried couple
in the little company. Meriem, entirely unaccustomed to the
companionship of such as Baynes, was fascinated by him. His tales
of the great, gay cities with which he was familiar filled her with
admiration and with wonder. If the Hon. Morison always shone to
advantage in these narratives Meriem saw in that fact but a most natural
consequence to his presence upon the scene of his story--wherever
Morison might be he must be a hero; so thought the girl.
With the actual presence and companionship of the young Englishman
the image of Korak became less real. Where before it had been an
actuality to her she now realized that Korak was but a memory. To
that memory she still was loyal; but what weight has a memory in
the presence of a fascinating reality?
Meriem had never accompanied the men upon a hunt since the arrival
of the guests. She never had cared particularly for the sport of
killing. The tracking she enjoyed; but the mere killing for the
sake of killing she could not find pleasure in--little savage that
she had been, and still, to some measure, was. When Bwana had
gone forth to shoot for meat she had always been his enthusiastic
companion; but with the coming of the London guests the hunting
had deteriorated into mere killing. Slaughter the host would not
permit; yet the purpose of the hunts were for heads and skins and
not for food. So Meriem remained behind and spent her days either
with My Dear upon the shaded verandah, or riding her favorite pony
across the plains or to the forest edge. Here she would leave him
untethered while she took to the trees for the moment's unalloyed
pleasures of a return to the wild, free existence of her earlier
childhood.
Then would come again visions of Korak, and, tired at last of
leaping and swinging through the trees, she would stretch herself
comfortably upon a branch and dream. And presently, as today, she
found the features of Korak slowly dissolve and merge into those of
another, and the figure of a tanned, half-naked tarmangani become
a khaki clothed Englishman astride a hunting pony.
And while she dreamed there came to her ears from a distance,
faintly, the terrified bleating of a kid. Meriem was instantly
alert. You or I, even had we been able to hear the pitiful wail
at so great distance, could not have interpreted it; but to Meriem
it meant a species of terror that afflicts the ruminant when a
carnivore is near and escape impossible.
It had been both a pleasure and a sport of Korak's to rob Numa of
his prey whenever possible, and Meriem too had often enjoyed in
the thrill of snatching some dainty morsel almost from the very
jaws of the king of beasts. Now, at the sound of the kid's bleat,
all the well remembered thrills recurred. Instantly she was all
excitement to play again the game of hide and seek with death.
Quickly she loosened her riding skirt and tossed it aside--it was
a heavy handicap to successful travel in the trees. Her boots and
stockings followed the skirt, for the bare sole of the human foot
does not slip upon dry or even wet bark as does the hard leather
of a boot. She would have liked to discard her riding breeches
also, but the motherly admonitions of My Dear had convinced Meriem
that it was not good form to go naked through the world.
At her hip hung a hunting knife. Her rifle was still in its boot
at her pony's withers. Her revolver she had not brought.
The kid was still bleating as Meriem started rapidly in its direction,
which she knew was straight toward a certain water hole which had
once been famous as a rendezvous for lions. Of late there had
been no evidence of carnivora in the neighborhood of this drinking
place; but Meriem was positive that the bleating of the kid was
due to the presence of either lion or panther.
But she would soon know, for she was rapidly approaching the
terrified animal. She wondered as she hastened onward that the
sounds continued to come from the same point. Why did the kid
not run away? And then she came in sight of the little animal and
knew. The kid was tethered to a stake beside the waterhole.
Meriem paused in the branches of a near-by tree and scanned the
surrounding clearing with quick, penetrating eyes. Where was the
hunter? Bwana and his people did not hunt thus. Who could have
tethered this poor little beast as a lure to Numa? Bwana never
countenanced such acts in his country and his word was law among
those who hunted within a radius of many miles of his estate.
Some wandering savages, doubtless, thought Meriem; but where were
they? Not even her keen eyes could discover them. And where
was Numa? Why had he not long since sprung upon this delicious
and defenseless morsel? That he was close by was attested by the
pitiful crying of the kid. Ah! Now she saw him. He was lying
close in a clump of brush a few yards to her right. The kid was
down wind from him and getting the full benefit of his terrorizing
scent, which did not reach Meriem.
To circle to the opposite side of the clearing where the trees
approached closer to the kid. To leap quickly to the little
animal's side and cut the tether that held him would be the work
of but a moment. In that moment Numa might charge, and then there
would be scarce time to regain the safety of the trees, yet it
might be done. Meriem had escaped from closer quarters than that
many times before.
The doubt that gave her momentary pause was caused by fear of the
unseen hunters more than by fear of Numa. If they were stranger
blacks the spears that they held in readiness for Numa might as
readily be loosed upon whomever dared release their bait as upon
the prey they sought thus to trap. Again the kid struggled to be
free. Again his piteous wail touched the tender heart strings of
the girl. Tossing discretion aside, she commenced to circle the
clearing. Only from Numa did she attempt to conceal her presence.
At last she reached the opposite trees. An instant she paused to
look toward the great lion, and at the same moment she saw the huge
beast rise slowly to his full height. A low roar betokened that
he was ready.
Meriem loosened her knife and leaped to the ground. A quick
run brought her to the side of the kid. Numa saw her. He lashed
his tail against his tawny sides. He roared terribly; but, for
an instant, he remained where he stood--surprised into inaction,
doubtless, by the strange apparition that had sprung so unexpectedly
from the jungle.
Other eyes were upon Meriem, too--eyes in which were no less surprise
than that reflected in the yellow-green orbs of the carnivore. A
white man, hiding in a thorn boma, half rose as the young girl
leaped into the clearing and dashed toward the kid. He saw Numa
hesitate. He raised his rifle and covered the beast's breast. The
girl reached the kid's side. Her knife flashed, and the little
prisoner was free. With a parting bleat it dashed off into the
jungle. Then the girl turned to retreat toward the safety of the
tree from which she had dropped so suddenly and unexpectedly into
the surprised view of the lion, the kid and the man.
As she turned the girl's face was turned toward the hunter. His
eyes went wide as he saw her features. He gave a little gasp of
surprise; but now the lion demanded all his attention--the baffled,
angry beast was charging. His breast was still covered by the
motionless rifle. The man could have fired and stopped the charge
at once; but for some reason, since he had seen the girl's face,
he hesitated. Could it be that he did not care to save her? Or,
did he prefer, if possible, to remain unseen by her? It must have
been the latter cause which kept the trigger finger of the steady
hand from exerting the little pressure that would have brought the
great beast to at least a temporary pause.
Like an eagle the man watched the race for life the girl was making.
A second or two measured the time which the whole exciting event
consumed from the moment that the lion broke into his charge. Nor
once did the rifle sights fail to cover the broad breast of the
tawny sire as the lion's course took him a little to the man's left.
Once, at the very last moment, when escape seemed impossible, the
hunter's finger tightened ever so little upon the trigger, but
almost coincidentally the girl leaped for an over hanging branch
and seized it. The lion leaped too; but the nimble Meriem had
swung herself beyond his reach without a second or an inch to spare.
The man breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered his rifle. He saw
the girl fling a grimace at the angry, roaring, maneater beneath
her, and then, laughing, speed away into the forest. For an hour
the lion remained about the water hole. A hundred times could the
hunter have bagged his prey. Why did he fail to do so? Was he
afraid that the shot might attract the girl and cause her to return?
At last Numa, still roaring angrily, strode majestically into the
jungle. The hunter crawled from his boma, and half an hour later
was entering a little camp snugly hidden in the forest. A handful
of black followers greeted his return with sullen indifference.
He was a great bearded man, a huge, yellow-bearded giant, when he
entered his tent. Half an hour later he emerged smooth shaven.
His blacks looked at him in astonishment.
"Would you know me?" he asked.
"The hyena that bore you would not know you, Bwana," replied one.
The man aimed a heavy fist at the black's face; but long experience
in dodging similar blows saved the presumptuous one.
