Chapter 24
Sometimes lolling upon Tantor's back, sometimes roaming the jungle
in solitude, Korak made his way slowly toward the West and South.
He made but a few miles a day, for he had a whole lifetime before
him and no place in particular to go. Possibly he would have moved
more rapidly but for the thought which continually haunted him that
each mile he traversed carried him further and further away from
Meriem--no longer his Meriem, as of yore, it is true! but still as
dear to him as ever.
Thus he came upon the trail of The Sheik's band as it traveled
down river from the point where The Sheik had captured Meriem to
his own stockaded village. Korak pretty well knew who it was that
had passed, for there were few in the great jungle with whom he
was not familiar, though it had been years since he had come this
far north. He had no particular business, however, with the old
Sheik and so he did not propose following him--the further from
men he could stay the better pleased he would be--he wished that he
might never see a human face again. Men always brought him sorrow
and misery.
The river suggested fishing and so he waddled upon its shores,
catching fish after a fashion of his own devising and eating them raw.
When night came he curled up in a great tree beside the stream--the
one from which he had been fishing during the afternoon--and was
soon asleep. Numa, roaring beneath him, awoke him. He was about
to call out in anger to his noisy neighbor when something else
caught his attention. He listened. Was there something in the
tree beside himself? Yes, he heard the noise of something below
him trying to clamber upward. Presently he heard the click of a
crocodile's jaws in the waters beneath, and then, low but distinct:
"By George! The beggar nearly got me." The voice was familiar.
Korak glanced downward toward the speaker. Outlined against the
faint luminosity of the water he saw the figure of a man clinging
to a lower branch of the tree. Silently and swiftly the ape-man
clambered downward. He felt a hand beneath his foot. He reached
down and clutched the figure beneath him and dragged it up among
the branches. It struggled weakly and struck at him; but Korak paid
no more attention than Tantor to an ant. He lugged his burden to
the higher safety and greater comfort of a broad crotch, and there
he propped it in a sitting position against the bole of the tree.
Numa still was roaring beneath them, doubtless in anger that he had
been robbed of his prey. Korak shouted down at him, calling him,
in the language of the great apes, "Old green-eyed eater of carrion,"
"Brother of Dango," the hyena, and other choice appellations of
jungle opprobrium.
The Hon. Morison Baynes, listening, felt assured that a gorilla had
seized upon him. He felt for his revolver, and as he was drawing
it stealthily from its holster a voice asked in perfectly good
English, "Who are you?"
Baynes started so that he nearly fell from the branch.
"My God!" he exclaimed. "Are you a man?"
"What did you think I was?" asked Korak.
"A gorilla," replied Baynes, honestly.
Korak laughed.
"Who are you?" he repeated.
"I'm an Englishman by the name of Baynes; but who the devil are
you?" asked the Hon. Morison.
"They call me The Killer," replied Korak, giving the English
translation of the name that Akut had given him. And then after a
pause during which the Hon. Morison attempted to pierce the darkness
and catch a glimpse of the features of the strange being into whose
hands he had fallen, "You are the same whom I saw kissing the girl
at the edge of the great plain to the East, that time that the lion
charged you?"
"Yes," replied Baynes.
"What are you doing here?"
"The girl was stolen--I am trying to rescue her."
"Stolen!" The word was shot out like a bullet from a gun. "Who
stole her?"
"The Swede trader, Hanson," replied Baynes.
"Where is he?"
Baynes related to Korak all that had transpired since he had come
upon Hanson's camp. Before he was done the first gray dawn had
relieved the darkness. Korak made the Englishman comfortable in
the tree. He filled his canteen from the river and fetched him
fruits to eat. Then he bid him good-bye.
"I am going to the Swede's camp," he announced. "I will bring the
girl back to you here."
"I shall go, too, then," insisted Baynes. "It is my right and my
duty, for she was to have become my wife."
Korak winced. "You are wounded. You could not make the trip," he
said. "I can go much faster alone."
"Go, then," replied Baynes; "but I shall follow. It is my right
and duty."
"As you will," replied Korak, with a shrug. If the man wanted to
be killed it was none of his affair. He wanted to kill him himself,
but for Meriem's sake he would not. If she loved him then he must
do what he could to preserve him, but he could not prevent his
following him, more than to advise him against it, and this he did,
earnestly.
And so Korak set out rapidly toward the North, and limping slowly
and painfully along, soon far to the rear, came the tired and wounded
Baynes. Korak had reached the river bank opposite Malbihn's camp
before Baynes had covered two miles. Late in the afternoon the
Englishman was still plodding wearily along, forced to stop often
for rest when he heard the sound of the galloping feet of a horse
behind him. Instinctively he drew into the concealing foliage of
the underbrush and a moment later a white-robed Arab dashed by.
Baynes did not hail the rider. He had heard of the nature of the
Arabs who penetrate thus far to the South, and what he had heard had
convinced him that a snake or a panther would as quickly befriend
him as one of these villainous renegades from the Northland.
When Abdul Kamak had passed out of sight toward the North Baynes
resumed his weary march. A half hour later he was again surprised
by the unmistakable sound of galloping horses. This time there
were many. Once more he sought a hiding place; but it chanced
that he was crossing a clearing which offered little opportunity
for concealment. He broke into a slow trot--the best that he could
do in his weakened condition; but it did not suffice to carry him
to safety and before he reached the opposite side of the clearing
a band of white-robed horsemen dashed into view behind him.
At sight of him they shouted in Arabic, which, of course, he could
not understand, and then they closed about him, threatening and
angry. Their questions were unintelligible to him, and no more could
they interpret his English. At last, evidently out of patience,
the leader ordered two of his men to seize him, which they lost no
time in doing. They disarmed him and ordered him to climb to the
rump of one of the horses, and then the two who had been detailed
to guard him turned and rode back toward the South, while the others
continued their pursuit of Abdul Kamak.
As Korak came out upon the bank of the river across from which he
could see the camp of Malbihn he was at a loss as to how he was
to cross. He could see men moving about among the huts inside the
boma--evidently Hanson was still there. Korak did not know the
true identity of Meriem's abductor.
How was he to cross. Not even he would dare the perils of the
river--almost certain death. For a moment he thought, then wheeled
and sped away into the jungle, uttering a peculiar cry, shrill and
piercing. Now and again he would halt to listen as though for an
answer to his weird call, then on again, deeper and deeper into
the wood.
At last his listening ears were rewarded by the sound they craved--the
trumpeting of a bull elephant, and a few moments later Korak broke
through the trees into the presence of Tantor, standing with upraised
trunk, waving his great ears.
"Quick, Tantor!" shouted the ape-man, and the beast swung him to
his head. "Hurry!" and the mighty pachyderm lumbered off through
the jungle, guided by kicking of naked heels against the sides of
his head.
Toward the northwest Korak guided his huge mount, until they came
out upon the river a mile or more above the Swede's camp, at a point
where Korak knew that there was an elephant ford. Never pausing
the ape-man urged the beast into the river, and with trunk held high
Tantor forged steadily toward the opposite bank. Once an unwary
crocodile attacked him but the sinuous trunk dove beneath the
surface and grasping the amphibian about the middle dragged it to
light and hurled it a hundred feet down stream. And so, in safety,
they made the opposite shore, Korak perched high and dry above the
turgid flood.
Then back toward the South Tantor moved, steadily, relentlessly,
and with a swinging gait which took no heed of any obstacle other
than the larger jungle trees. At times Korak was forced to abandon
the broad head and take to the trees above, so close the branches
raked the back of the elephant; but at last they came to the edge
of the clearing where lay the camp of the renegade Swede, nor even
then did they hesitate or halt. The gate lay upon the east side
of the camp, facing the river. Tantor and Korak approached from
the north. There was no gate there; but what cared Tantor or Korak
for gates.
At a word from the ape man and raising his tender trunk high above
the thorns Tantor breasted the boma, walking through it as though
it had not existed. A dozen blacks squatted before their huts looked
up at the noise of his approach. With sudden howls of terror and
amazement they leaped to their feet and fled for the open gates.
Tantor would have pursued. He hated man, and he thought that Korak
had come to hunt these; but the ape man held him back, guiding
him toward a large, canvas tent that rose in the center of the
clearing--there should be the girl and her abductor.
Malbihn lay in a hammock beneath canopy before his tent. His
wounds were painful and he had lost much blood. He was very weak.
He looked up in surprise as he heard the screams of his men and saw
them running toward the gate. And then from around the corner of
his tent loomed a huge bulk, and Tantor, the great tusker, towered
above him. Malbihn's boy, feeling neither affection nor loyalty
for his master, broke and ran at the first glimpse of the beast,
and Malbihn was left alone and helpless.
The elephant stopped a couple of paces from the wounded man's
hammock. Malbihn cowered, moaning. He was too weak to escape. He
could only lie there with staring eyes gazing in horror into the
blood rimmed, angry little orbs fixed upon him, and await his death.
Then, to his astonishment, a man slid to the ground from the elephant's
back. Almost at once Malbihn recognized the strange figure as that
of the creature who consorted with apes and baboons--the white
warrior of the jungle who had freed the king baboon and led the
whole angry horde of hairy devils upon him and Jenssen. Malbihn
cowered still lower.
"Where is the girl?" demanded Korak, in English.
"What girl?" asked Malbihn. "There is no girl here--only the women
of my boys. Is it one of them you want?"
"The white girl," replied Korak. "Do not lie to me--you lured her
from her friends. You have her. Where is she?"
"It was not I," cried Malbihn. "It was an Englishman who hired me
to steal her. He wished to take her to London with him. She was
willing to go. His name is Baynes. Go to him, if you want to know
where the girl is."
"I have just come from him," said Korak. "He sent me to you. The
girl is not with him. Now stop your lying and tell me the truth.
Where is she?" Korak took a threatening step toward the Swede.
Malbihn shrank from the anger in the other's face.
"I will tell you," he cried. "Do not harm me and I will tell
you all that I know. I had the girl here; but it was Baynes who
persuaded her to leave her friends--he had promised to marry her.
He does not know who she is; but I do, and I know that there is a
great reward for whoever takes her back to her people. It was the
only reward I wanted. But she escaped and crossed the river in one
of my canoes. I followed her, but The Sheik was there, God knows
how, and he captured her and attacked me and drove me back. Then
came Baynes, angry because he had lost the girl, and shot me. If
you want her, go to The Sheik and ask him for her--she has passed
as his daughter since childhood."
"She is not The Sheik's daughter?" asked Korak.
"She is not," replied Malbihn.
"Who is she then?" asked Korak.
Here Malbihn saw his chance. Possibly he could make use of his
knowledge after all--it might even buy back his life for him. He
was not so credulous as to believe that this savage ape-man would
have any compunctions about slaying him.
"When you find her I will tell you," he said, "if you will promise
to spare my life and divide the reward with me. If you kill me you
will never know, for only The Sheik knows and he will never tell.
The girl herself is ignorant of her origin."
"If you have told me the truth I will spare you," said Korak. "I
shall go now to The Sheik's village and if the girl is not there I
shall return and slay you. As for the other information you have,
if the girl wants it when we have found her we will find a way to
purchase it from you."
The look in the Killer's eyes and his emphasis of the word "purchase"
were none too reassuring to Malbihn. Evidently, unless he found
means to escape, this devil would have both his secret and his life
before he was done with him. He wished he would be gone and take
his evil-eyed companion away with him. The swaying bulk towering
high above him, and the ugly little eyes of the elephant watching
his every move made Malbihn nervous.
Korak stepped into the Swede's tent to assure himself that Meriem
was not hid there. As he disappeared from view Tantor, his eyes
still fixed upon Malbihn, took a step nearer the man. An elephant's
eyesight is none too good; but the great tusker evidently had harbored
suspicions of this yellow-bearded white man from the first. Now
he advanced his snake-like trunk toward the Swede, who shrank still
deeper into his hammock.
The sensitive member felt and smelled back and forth along the body
of the terrified Malbihn. Tantor uttered a low, rumbling sound.
His little eyes blazed. At last he had recognized the creature
who had killed his mate long years before. Tantor, the elephant,
never forgets and never forgives. Malbihn saw in the demoniacal
visage above him the murderous purpose of the beast. He shrieked
aloud to Korak. "Help! Help! The devil is going to kill me!"
Korak ran from the tent just in time to see the enraged elephant's
trunk encircle the beast's victim, and then hammock, canopy and
man were swung high over Tantor's head. Korak leaped before the
animal, commanding him to put down his prey unharmed; but as well
might he have ordered the eternal river to reverse its course.
Tantor wheeled around like a cat, hurled Malbihn to the earth and
kneeled upon him with the quickness of a cat. Then he gored the
prostrate thing through and through with his mighty tusks, trumpeting
and roaring in his rage, and at last, convinced that no slightest
spark of life remained in the crushed and lacerated flesh, he lifted
the shapeless clay that had been Sven Malbihn far aloft and hurled
the bloody mass, still entangled in canopy and hammock, over the
boma and out into the jungle.
Korak stood looking sorrowfully on at the tragedy he gladly would
have averted. He had no love for the Swede, in fact only hatred;
but he would have preserved the man for the sake of the secret he
possessed. Now that secret was gone forever unless The Sheik could
be made to divulge it; but in that possibility Korak placed little
faith.
The ape-man, as unafraid of the mighty Tantor as though he had not
just witnessed his shocking murder of a human being, signalled the
beast to approach and lift him to its head, and Tantor came as he
was bid, docile as a kitten, and hoisted The Killer tenderly aloft.
From the safety of their hiding places in the jungle Malbihn's
boys had witnessed the killing of their master, and now, with wide,
frightened eyes, they saw the strange white warrior, mounted upon
the head of his ferocious charger, disappear into the jungle at
the point from which he had emerged upon their terrified vision.
