3
The Call of the Jungle
Moved by these vague yet all-powerful urgings the ape-man lay awake
one night in the little thorn boma that protected, in a way, his
party from the depredations of the great carnivora of the jungle.
A single warrior stood sleepy guard beside the fire that yellow
eyes out of the darkness beyond the camp made imperative. The moans
and the coughing of the big cats mingled with the myriad noises of
the lesser denizens of the jungle to fan the savage flame in the
breast of this savage English lord. He tossed upon his bed of
grasses, sleepless, for an hour and then he rose, noiseless as a
wraith, and while the Waziri's back was turned, vaulted the boma
wall in the face of the flaming eyes, swung silently into a great
tree and was gone.
For a time in sheer exuberance of animal spirit he raced swiftly
through the middle terrace, swinging perilously across wide spans
from one jungle giant to the next, and then he clambered upward
to the swaying, lesser boughs of the upper terrace where the moon
shone full upon him and the air was stirred by little breezes and
death lurked ready in each frail branch. Here he paused and raised
his face to Goro, the moon. With uplifted arm he stood, the cry of
the bull ape quivering upon his lips, yet he remained silent lest
he arouse his faithful Waziri who were all too familiar with the
hideous challenge of their master.
And then he went on more slowly and with greater stealth and caution,
for now Tarzan of the Apes was seeking a kill. Down to the ground
he came in the utter blackness of the close-set boles and the
overhanging verdure of the jungle. He stooped from time to time
and put his nose close to earth. He sought and found a wide game
trail and at last his nostrils were rewarded with the scent of
the fresh spoor of Bara, the deer. Tarzan's mouth watered and a
low growl escaped his patrician lips. Sloughed from him was the
last vestige of artificial caste--once again he was the primeval
hunter--the first man--the highest caste type of the human race.
Up wind he followed the elusive spoor with a sense of perception
so transcending that of ordinary man as to be inconceivable to
us. Through counter currents of the heavy stench of meat eaters
he traced the trail of Bara; the sweet and cloying stink of Horta,
the boar, could not drown his quarry's scent--the permeating, mellow
musk of the deer's foot.
Presently the body scent of the deer told Tarzan that his prey was
close at hand. It sent him into the trees again--into the lower
terrace where he could watch the ground below and catch with ears
and nose the first intimation of actual contact with his quarry.
Nor was it long before the ape-man came upon Bara standing alert
at the edge of a moon-bathed clearing. Noiselessly Tarzan crept
through the trees until he was directly over the deer. In the
ape-man's right hand was the long hunting knife of his father and
in his heart the blood lust of the carnivore. Just for an instant
he poised above the unsuspecting Bara and then he launched himself
downward upon the sleek back. The impact of his weight carried
the deer to its knees and before the animal could regain its feet
the knife had found its heart. As Tarzan rose upon the body of
his kill to scream forth his hideous victory cry into the face of
the moon the wind carried to his nostrils something which froze
him to statuesque immobility and silence. His savage eyes blazed
into the direction from which the wind had borne down the warning
to him and a moment later the grasses at one side of the clearing
parted and Numa, the lion, strode majestically into view. His
yellow-green eyes were fastened upon Tarzan as he halted just
within the clearing and glared enviously at the successful hunter,
for Numa had had no luck this night.
From the lips of the ape-man broke a rumbling growl of warning.
Numa answered but he did not advance. Instead he stood waving
his tail gently to and fro, and presently Tarzan squatted upon his
kill and cut a generous portion from a hind quarter. Numa eyed him
with growing resentment and rage as, between mouthfuls, the ape-man
growled out his savage warnings. Now this particular lion had
never before come in contact with Tarzan of the Apes and he was much
mystified. Here was the appearance and the scent of a man-thing
and Numa had tasted of human flesh and learned that though not the
most palatable it was certainly by far the easiest to secure, yet
there was that in the bestial growls of the strange creature which
reminded him of formidable antagonists and gave him pause, while
his hunger and the odor of the hot flesh of Bara goaded him almost
to madness. Always Tarzan watched him, guessing what was passing
in the little brain of the carnivore and well it was that he did
watch him, for at last Numa could stand it no longer. His tail shot
suddenly erect and at the same instant the wary ape-man, knowing
all too well what the signal portended, grasped the remainder of
the deer's hind quarter between his teeth and leaped into a nearby
tree as Numa charged him with all the speed and a sufficient
semblance of the weight of an express train.
Tarzan's retreat was no indication that he felt fear. Jungle life
is ordered along different lines than ours and different standards
prevail. Had Tarzan been famished he would, doubtless, have stood
his ground and met the lion's charge. He had done the thing before
upon more than one occasion, just as in the past he had charged
lions himself; but tonight he was far from famished and in the
hind quarter he had carried off with him was more raw flesh than he
could eat; yet it was with no equanimity that he looked down upon
Numa rending the flesh of Tarzan's kill. The presumption of this
strange Numa must be punished! And forthwith Tarzan set out to make
life miserable for the big cat. Close by were many trees bearing
large, hard fruits and to one of these the ape-man swung with the
agility of a squirrel. Then commenced a bombardment which brought
forth earthshaking roars from Numa. One after another as rapidly
as he could gather and hurl them, Tarzan pelted the hard fruit down
upon the lion. It was impossible for the tawny cat to eat under
that hail of missiles--he could but roar and growl and dodge and
eventually he was driven away entirely from the carcass of Bara,
the deer. He went roaring and resentful; but in the very center
of the clearing his voice was suddenly hushed and Tarzan saw the
great head lower and flatten out, the body crouch and the long
tail quiver, as the beast slunk cautiously toward the trees upon
the opposite side.
Immediately Tarzan was alert. He lifted his head and sniffed the
slow, jungle breeze. What was it that had attracted Numa's attention
and taken him soft-footed and silent away from the scene of his
discomfiture? Just as the lion disappeared among the trees beyond
the clearing Tarzan caught upon the down-coming wind the explanation
of his new interest--the scent spoor of man was wafted strongly to
the sensitive nostrils. Caching the remainder of the deer's hind
quarter in the crotch of a tree the ape-man wiped his greasy palms
upon his naked thighs and swung off in pursuit of Numa. A broad,
well-beaten elephant path led into the forest from the clearing.
Parallel to this slunk Numa, while above him Tarzan moved through
the trees, the shadow of a wraith. The savage cat and the savage
man saw Numa's quarry almost simultaneously, though both had known
before it came within the vision of their eyes that it was a black
man. Their sensitive nostrils had told them this much and Tarzan's
had told him that the scent spoor was that of a stranger--old and
a male, for race and sex and age each has its own distinctive scent.
It was an old man that made his way alone through the gloomy jungle,
a wrinkled, dried up, little old man hideously scarred and tattooed
and strangely garbed, with the skin of a hyena about his shoulders
and the dried head mounted upon his grey pate. Tarzan recognized
the ear-marks of the witch-doctor and awaited Numa's charge with
a feeling of pleasurable anticipation, for the ape-man had no love
for witch-doctors; but in the instant that Numa did charge, the
white man suddenly recalled that the lion had stolen his kill a
few minutes before and that revenge is sweet.
The first intimation the black man had that he was in danger was
the crash of twigs as Numa charged through the bushes into the game
trail not twenty yards behind him. Then he turned to see a huge,
black-maned lion racing toward him and even as he turned, Numa seized
him. At the same instant the ape-man dropped from an overhanging
limb full upon the lion's back and as he alighted he plunged his
knife into the tawny side behind the left shoulder, tangled the
fingers of his right hand in the long mane, buried his teeth in
Numa's neck and wound his powerful legs about the beast's torso.
With a roar of pain and rage, Numa reared up and fell backward upon
the ape-man; but still the mighty man-thing clung to his hold and
repeatedly the long knife plunged rapidly into his side. Over and
over rolled Numa, the lion, clawing and biting at the air, roaring
and growling horribly in savage attempt to reach the thing upon
its back. More than once was Tarzan almost brushed from his hold.
He was battered and bruised and covered with blood from Numa and dirt
from the trail, yet not for an instant did he lessen the ferocity
of his mad attack nor his grim hold upon the back of his antagonist.
To have loosened for an instant his grip there, would have been to
bring him within reach of those tearing talons or rending fangs,
and have ended forever the grim career of this jungle-bred English
lord. Where he had fallen beneath the spring of the lion the
witch-doctor lay, torn and bleeding, unable to drag himself away
and watched the terrific battle between these two lords of the
jungle. His sunken eyes glittered and his wrinkled lips moved over
toothless gums as he mumbled weird incantations to the demons of
his cult.
For a time he felt no doubt as to the outcome--the strange white
man must certainly succumb to terrible Simba--whoever heard of a
lone man armed only with a knife slaying so mighty a beast! Yet
presently the old black man's eyes went wider and he commenced to
have his doubts and misgivings. What wonderful sort of creature was
this that battled with Simba and held his own despite the mighty
muscles of the king of beasts and slowly there dawned in those
sunken eyes, gleaming so brightly from the scarred and wrinkled
face, the light of a dawning recollection. Gropingly backward into
the past reached the fingers of memory, until at last they seized
upon a faint picture, faded and yellow with the passing years. It
was the picture of a lithe, white-skinned youth swinging through
the trees in company with a band of huge apes, and the old eyes
blinked and a great fear came into them--the superstitious fear of
one who believes in ghosts and spirits and demons.
And came the time once more when the witch-doctor no longer doubted
the outcome of the duel, yet his first judgment was reversed, for
now he knew that the jungle god would slay Simba and the old black
was even more terrified of his own impending fate at the hands
of the victor than he had been by the sure and sudden death which
the triumphant lion would have meted out to him. He saw the lion
weaken from loss of blood. He saw the mighty limbs tremble and
stagger and at last he saw the beast sink down to rise no more.
He saw the forest god or demon rise from the vanquished foe, and
placing a foot upon the still quivering carcass, raise his face to
the moon and bay out a hideous cry that froze the ebbing blood in
the veins of the witch-doctor.
