Chapter 26
Meriem, dazed by the unexpected sight of Korak whom she had long
given up as dead, permitted herself to be led away by Baynes.
Among the tents he guided her safely to the palisade, and there,
following Korak's instructions, the Englishman pitched a noose over
the top of one of the upright logs that formed the barrier. With
difficulty he reached the top and then lowered his hand to assist
Meriem to his side.
"Come!" he whispered. "We must hurry." And then, as though she
had awakened from a sleep, Meriem came to herself. Back there,
fighting her enemies, alone, was Korak--her Korak. Her place was
by his side, fighting with him and for him. She glanced up at
Baynes.
"Go!" she called. "Make your way back to Bwana and bring help. My
place is here. You can do no good remaining. Get away while you
can and bring the Big Bwana back with you."
Silently the Hon. Morison Baynes slid to the ground inside the
palisade to Meriem's side.
"It was only for you that I left him," he said, nodding toward the
tents they had just left. "I knew that he could hold them longer
than I and give you a chance to escape that I might not be able
to have given you. It was I though who should have remained. I
heard you call him Korak and so I know now who he is. He befriended
you. I would have wronged you. No--don't interrupt. I'm going
to tell you the truth now and let you know just what a beast I have
been. I planned to take you to London, as you know; but I did not
plan to marry you. Yes, shrink from me--I deserve it. I deserve
your contempt and loathing; but I didn't know then what love was.
Since I have learned that I have learned something else--what a
cad and what a coward I have been all my life. I looked down upon
those whom I considered my social inferiors. I did not think you
good enough to bear my name. Since Hanson tricked me and took you
for himself I have been through hell; but it has made a man of me,
though too late. Now I can come to you with an offer of honest
love, which will realize the honor of having such as you share my
name with me."
For a moment Meriem was silent, buried in thought. Her first
question seemed irrelevant.
"How did you happen to be in this village?" she asked.
He told her all that had transpired since the black had told him
of Hanson's duplicity.
"You say that you are a coward," she said, "and yet you have done
all this to save me? The courage that it must have taken to tell
me the things that you told me but a moment since, while courage
of a different sort, proves that you are no moral coward, and the
other proves that you are not a physical coward. I could not love
a coward."
"You mean that you love me?" he gasped in astonishment, taking
a step toward her as though to gather her into his arms; but she
placed her hand against him and pushed him gently away, as much as
to say, not yet. What she did mean she scarcely knew. She thought
that she loved him, of that there can be no question; nor did she
think that love for this young Englishman was disloyalty to Korak,
for her love for Korak was undiminished--the love of a sister for
an indulgent brother. As they stood there for the moment of their
conversation the sounds of tumult in the village subsided.
"They have killed him," whispered Meriem.
The statement brought Baynes to a realization of the cause of their
return.
"Wait here," he said. "I will go and see. If he is dead we can
do him no good. If he lives I will do my best to free him."
"We will go together," replied Meriem. "Come!" And she led the
way back toward the tent in which they last had seen Korak. As
they went they were often forced to throw themselves to the ground
in the shadow of a tent or hut, for people were passing hurriedly
to and fro now--the whole village was aroused and moving about.
The return to the tent of Ali ben Kadin took much longer than had
their swift flight to the palisade. Cautiously they crept to the
slit that Korak's knife had made in the rear wall. Meriem peered
within--the rear apartment was empty. She crawled through the
aperture, Baynes at her heels, and then silently crossed the space
to the rugs that partitioned the tent into two rooms. Parting the
hangings Meriem looked into the front room. It, too, was deserted.
She crossed to the door of the tent and looked out. Then she gave
a little gasp of horror. Baynes at her shoulder looked past her
to the sight that had startled her, and he, too, exclaimed; but
his was an oath of anger.
A hundred feet away they saw Korak bound to a stake--the brush
piled about him already alight. The Englishman pushed Meriem to
one side and started to run for the doomed man. What he could do
in the face of scores of hostile blacks and Arabs he did not stop
to consider. At the same instant Tantor broke through the palisade
and charged the group. In the face of the maddened beast the crowd
turned and fled, carrying Baynes backward with them. In a moment
it was all over, and the elephant had disappeared with his prize;
but pandemonium reigned throughout the village. Men, women and
children ran helter skelter for safety. Curs fled, yelping. The
horses and camels and donkeys, terrorized by the trumpeting of the
pachyderm, kicked and pulled at their tethers. A dozen or more
broke loose, and it was the galloping of these past him that brought
a sudden idea into Baynes' head. He turned to search for Meriem
only to find her at his elbow.
"The horses!" he cried. "If we can get a couple of them!"
Filled with the idea Meriem led him to the far end of the village.
"Loosen two of them," she said, "and lead them back into the shadows
behind those huts. I know where there are saddles. I will bring
them and the bridles," and before he could stop her she was gone.
Baynes quickly untied two of the restive animals and led them to
the point designated by Meriem. Here he waited impatiently for
what seemed an hour; but was, in reality, but a few minutes. Then
he saw the girl approaching beneath the burden of two saddles.
Quickly they placed these upon the horses. They could see by the
light of the torture fire that still burned that the blacks and
Arabs were recovering from their panic. Men were running about
gathering in the loose stock, and two or three were already leading
their captives back to the end of the village where Meriem and
Baynes were busy with the trappings of their mounts.
Now the girl flung herself into the saddle.
"Hurry!" she whispered. "We shall have to run for it. Ride
through the gap that Tantor made," and as she saw Baynes swing his
leg over the back of his horse, she shook the reins free over her
mount's neck. With a lunge, the nervous beast leaped forward. The
shortest path led straight through the center of the village, and
this Meriem took. Baynes was close behind her, their horses running
at full speed.
So sudden and impetuous was their dash for escape that it carried
them half-way across the village before the surprised inhabitants
were aware of what was happening. Then an Arab recognized them,
and, with a cry of alarm, raised his rifle and fired. The shot
was a signal for a volley, and amid the rattle of musketry Meriem
and Baynes leaped their flying mounts through the breach in the
palisade and were gone up the well-worn trail toward the north.
And Korak?
Tantor carried him deep into the jungle, nor paused until no sound
from the distant village reached his keen ears. Then he laid
his burden gently down. Korak struggled to free himself from his
bonds, but even his great strength was unable to cope with the many
strands of hard-knotted cord that bound him. While he lay there,
working and resting by turns, the elephant stood guard above him,
nor was there jungle enemy with the hardihood to tempt the sudden
death that lay in that mighty bulk.
Dawn came, and still Korak was no nearer freedom than before. He
commenced to believe that he should die there of thirst and
starvation with plenty all about him, for he knew that Tantor could
not unloose the knots that held him.
And while he struggled through the night with his bonds, Baynes
and Meriem were riding rapidly northward along the river. The girl
had assured Baynes that Korak was safe in the jungle with Tantor.
It had not occurred to her that the ape-man might not be able to
burst his bonds. Baynes had been wounded by a shot from the rifle
of one of the Arabs, and the girl wanted to get him back to Bwana's
home, where he could be properly cared for.
"Then," she said, "I shall get Bwana to come with me and search
for Korak. He must come and live with us."
All night they rode, and the day was still young when they came
suddenly upon a party hurrying southward. It was Bwana himself and
his sleek, black warriors. At sight of Baynes the big Englishman's
brows contracted in a scowl; but he waited to hear Meriem's story
before giving vent to the long anger in his breast. When she had
finished he seemed to have forgotten Baynes. His thoughts were
occupied with another subject.
"You say that you found Korak?" he asked. "You really saw him?"
"Yes," replied Meriem; "as plainly as I see you, and I want you to
come with me, Bwana, and help me find him again."
"Did you see him?" He turned toward the Hon. Morison.
"Yes, sir," replied Baynes; "very plainly."
"What sort of appearing man is he?" continued Bwana. "About how
old, should you say?"
"I should say he was an Englishman, about my own age," replied
Baynes; "though he might be older. He is remarkably muscled, and
exceedingly tanned."
"His eyes and hair, did you notice them?" Bwana spoke rapidly,
almost excitedly. It was Meriem who answered him.
"Korak's hair is black and his eyes are gray," she said.
Bwana turned to his headman.
"Take Miss Meriem and Mr. Baynes home," he said. "I am going into
the jungle."
"Let me go with you, Bwana," cried Meriem. "You are going to search
for Korak. Let me go, too."
Bwana turned sadly but firmly upon the girl.
"Your place," he said, "is beside the man you love."
Then he motioned to his head-man to take his horse and commence the
return journey to the farm. Meriem slowly mounted the tired Arab
that had brought her from the village of The Sheik. A litter was
rigged for the now feverish Baynes, and the little cavalcade was
soon slowly winding off along the river trail.
Bwana stood watching them until they were out of sight. Not once
had Meriem turned her eyes backward. She rode with bowed head and
drooping shoulders. Bwana sighed. He loved the little Arab girl
as he might have loved an own daughter. He realized that Baynes
had redeemed himself, and so he could interpose no objections now
if Meriem really loved the man; but, somehow, some way, Bwana could
not convince himself that the Hon. Morison was worthy of his little
Meriem. Slowly he turned toward a nearby tree. Leaping upward he
caught a lower branch and drew himself up among the branches. His
movements were cat-like and agile. High into the trees he made his
way and there commenced to divest himself of his clothing. From
the game bag slung across one shoulder he drew a long strip of
doe-skin, a neatly coiled rope, and a wicked looking knife. The
doe-skin, he fashioned into a loin cloth, the rope he looped over
one shoulder, and the knife he thrust into the belt formed by his
gee string.
When he stood erect, his head thrown back and his great chest
expanded a grim smile touched his lips for a moment. His nostrils
dilated as he sniffed the jungle odors. His gray eyes narrowed.
He crouched and leaped to a lower limb and was away through the
trees toward the southeast, bearing away from the river. He moved
swiftly, stopping only occasionally to raise his voice in a weird
and piercing scream, and to listen for a moment after for a reply.
He had traveled thus for several hours when, ahead of him and
a little to his left, he heard, far off in the jungle, a faint
response--the cry of a bull ape answering his cry. His nerves
tingled and his eyes lighted as the sound fell upon his ears. Again
he voiced his hideous call, and sped forward in the new direction.
Korak, finally becoming convinced that he must die if he remained
where he was, waiting for the succor that could not come, spoke to
Tantor in the strange tongue that the great beast understood. He
commanded the elephant to lift him and carry him toward the northeast.
There, recently, Korak had seen both white men and black. If he
could come upon one of the latter it would be a simple matter to
command Tantor to capture the fellow, and then Korak could get him
to release him from the stake. It was worth trying at least--better
than lying there in the jungle until he died. As Tantor bore him
along through the forest Korak called aloud now and then in the
hope of attracting Akut's band of anthropoids, whose wanderings
often brought them into their neighborhood. Akut, he thought, might
possibly be able to negotiate the knots--he had done so upon that
other occasion when the Russian had bound Korak years before; and
Akut, to the south of him, heard his calls faintly, and came. There
was another who heard them, too.
After Bwana had left his party, sending them back toward the farm,
Meriem had ridden for a short distance with bowed head. What
thoughts passed through that active brain who may say? Presently
she seemed to come to a decision. She called the headman to her
side.
"I am going back with Bwana," she announced.
The black shook his head. "No!" he announced. "Bwana says I take
you home. So I take you home."
"You refuse to let me go?" asked the girl.
The black nodded, and fell to the rear where he might better watch
her. Meriem half smiled. Presently her horse passed beneath a
low-hanging branch, and the black headman found himself gazing at
the girl's empty saddle. He ran forward to the tree into which
she had disappeared. He could see nothing of her. He called; but
there was no response, unless it might have been a low, taunting
laugh far to the right. He sent his men into the jungle to search
for her; but they came back empty handed. After a while he resumed
his march toward the farm, for Baynes, by this time, was delirious
with fever.
Meriem raced straight back toward the point she imagined Tantor
would make for--a point where she knew the elephants often gathered
deep in the forest due east of The Sheik's village. She moved
silently and swiftly. From her mind she had expunged all thoughts
other than that she must reach Korak and bring him back with her.
It was her place to do that. Then, too, had come the tantalizing
fear that all might not be well with him. She upbraided herself
for not thinking of that before--of letting her desire to get the
wounded Morison back to the bungalow blind her to the possibilities
of Korak's need for her. She had been traveling rapidly for several
hours without rest when she heard ahead of her the familiar cry of
a great ape calling to his kind.
She did not reply, only increased her speed until she almost flew.
Now there came to her sensitive nostrils the scent of Tantor and she
knew that she was on the right trail and close to him she sought.
She did not call out because she wished to surprise him, and presently
she did, breaking into sight of them as the great elephant shuffled
ahead balancing the man and the heavy stake upon his head, holding
them there with his upcurled trunk.
"Korak!" cried Meriem from the foliage above him.
Instantly the bull swung about, lowered his burden to the ground
and, trumpeting savagely, prepared to defend his comrade. The
ape-man, recognizing the girl's voice, felt a sudden lump in his
throat.
"Meriem!" he called back to her.
Happily the girl clambered to the ground and ran forward to release
Korak; but Tantor lowered his head ominously and trumpeted a warning.
"Go back! Go back!" cried Korak. "He will kill you."
Meriem paused. "Tantor!" she called to the huge brute. "Don't
you remember me? I am little Meriem. I used to ride on your broad
back;" but the bull only rumbled in his throat and shook his tusks
in angry defiance. Then Korak tried to placate him. Tried to
order him away, that the girl might approach and release him; but
Tantor would not go. He saw in every human being other than Korak
an enemy. He thought the girl bent upon harming his friend and
he would take no chances. For an hour the girl and the man tried
to find some means whereby they might circumvent the beast's ill
directed guardianship, but all to no avail; Tantor stood his ground
in grim determination to let no one approach Korak.
Presently the man hit upon a scheme. "Pretend to go away," he
called to the girl. "Keep down wind from us so that Tantor won't
get your scent, then follow us. After a while I'll have him put
me down, and find some pretext for sending him away. While he is
gone you can slip up and cut my bonds--have you a knife?"
"Yes, I have a knife," she replied. "I'll go now--I think we may
be able to fool him; but don't be too sure--Tantor invented cunning."
Korak smiled, for he knew that the girl was right. Presently she
had disappeared. The elephant listened, and raised his trunk to
catch her scent. Korak commanded him to raise him to his head once
more and proceed upon their way. After a moment's hesitation he
did as he was bid. It was then that Korak heard the distant call
of an ape.
"Akut!" he thought. "Good! Tantor knew Akut well. He would let
him approach." Raising his voice Korak replied to the call of the
ape; but he let Tantor move off with him through the jungle; it
would do no harm to try the other plan. They had come to a clearing
and plainly Korak smelled water. Here was a good place and a good
excuse. He ordered Tantor to lay him down, and go and fetch him
water in his trunk. The big beast deposited him upon the grass
in the center of the clearing, then he stood with cocked ears
and attentive trunk, searching for the slightest indication of
danger--there seemed to be none and he moved away in the direction
of the little brook that Korak knew was some two or three hundred
yards away. The ape-man could scarce help smiling as he thought
how cleverly he had tricked his friend; but well as he knew Tantor
he little guessed the guile of his cunning brain. The animal ambled
off across the clearing and disappeared in the jungle beyond in the
direction of the stream; but scarce had his great bulk been screened
by the dense foliage than he wheeled about and came cautiously
back to the edge of the clearing where he could see without being
seen. Tantor, by nature, is suspicious. Now he still feared
the return of the she Tarmangani who had attempted to attack his
Korak. He would just stand there for a moment and assure himself
that all was well before he continued on toward the water. Ah!
It was well that he did! There she was now dropping from the
branches of a tree across the clearing and running swiftly toward
the ape-man. Tantor waited. He would let her reach Korak before
he charged--that would ensure that she had no chance of escape.
His little eyes blazed savagely. His tail was elevated stiffly.
He could scarce restrain a desire to trumpet forth his rage to
the world. Meriem was almost at Korak's side when Tantor saw the
long knife in her hand, and then he broke forth from the jungle,
bellowing horribly, and charged down upon the frail girl.
