15
The Flight of Werper
After Werper had arranged the dummy in his bed, and sneaked out into
the darkness of the village beneath the rear wall of his tent, he
had gone directly to the hut in which Jane Clayton was held captive.
Before the doorway squatted a black sentry. Werper approached
him boldly, spoke a few words in his ear, handed him a package of
tobacco, and passed into the hut. The black grinned and winked as
the European disappeared within the darkness of the interior.
The Belgian, being one of Achmet Zek's principal lieutenants, might
naturally go where he wished within or without the village, and so
the sentry had not questioned his right to enter the hut with the
white, woman prisoner.
Within, Werper called in French and in a low whisper: "Lady Greystoke!
It is I, M. Frecoult. Where are you?" But there was no response.
Hastily the man felt around the interior, groping blindly through
the darkness with outstretched hands. There was no one within!
Werper's astonishment surpassed words. He was on the point of
stepping without to question the sentry, when his eyes, becoming
accustomed to the dark, discovered a blotch of lesser blackness
near the base of the rear wall of the hut. Examination revealed
the fact that the blotch was an opening cut in the wall. It was
large enough to permit the passage of his body, and assured as he
was that Lady Greystoke had passed out through the aperture in an
attempt to escape the village, he lost no time in availing himself
of the same avenue; but neither did he lose time in a fruitless
search for Jane Clayton.
His own life depended upon the chance of his eluding, or outdistancing
Achmet Zek, when that worthy should have discovered that he had
escaped. His original plan had contemplated connivance in the
escape of Lady Greystoke for two very good and sufficient reasons.
The first was that by saving her he would win the gratitude of the
English, and thus lessen the chance of his extradition should his
identity and his crime against his superior officer be charged
against him.
The second reason was based upon the fact that only one direction
of escape was safely open to him. He could not travel to the west
because of the Belgian possessions which lay between him and the
Atlantic. The south was closed to him by the feared presence of
the savage ape-man he had robbed. To the north lay the friends and
allies of Achmet Zek. Only toward the east, through British East
Africa, lay reasonable assurance of freedom.
Accompanied by a titled Englishwoman whom he had rescued from a
frightful fate, and his identity vouched for by her as that of a
Frenchman by the name of Frecoult, he had looked forward, and not
without reason, to the active assistance of the British from the
moment that he came in contact with their first outpost.
But now that Lady Greystoke had disappeared, though he still looked
toward the east for hope, his chances were lessened, and another,
subsidiary design completely dashed. From the moment that he had
first laid eyes upon Jane Clayton he had nursed within his breast
a secret passion for the beautiful American wife of the English
lord, and when Achmet Zek's discovery of the jewels had necessitated
flight, the Belgian had dreamed, in his planning, of a future in
which he might convince Lady Greystoke that her husband was dead,
and by playing upon her gratitude win her for himself.
At that part of the village farthest from the gates, Werper
discovered that two or three long poles, taken from a nearby pile
which had been collected for the construction of huts, had been
leaned against the top of the palisade, forming a precarious, though
not impossible avenue of escape.
Rightly, he inferred that thus had Lady Greystoke found the means
to scale the wall, nor did he lose even a moment in following her
lead. Once in the jungle he struck out directly eastward.
A few miles south of him, Jane Clayton lay panting among the branches
of a tree in which she had taken refuge from a prowling and hungry
lioness.
Her escape from the village had been much easier than she had
anticipated. The knife which she had used to cut her way through
the brush wall of the hut to freedom she had found sticking in the
wall of her prison, doubtless left there by accident when a former
tenant had vacated the premises.
To cross the rear of the village, keeping always in the densest shadows,
had required but a few moments, and the fortunate circumstance of
the discovery of the hut poles lying so near the palisade had solved
for her the problem of the passage of the high wall.
For an hour she had followed the old game trail toward the south,
until there fell upon her trained hearing the stealthy padding of
a stalking beast behind her. The nearest tree gave her instant
sanctuary, for she was too wise in the ways of the jungle to chance
her safety for a moment after discovering that she was being hunted.
Werper, with better success, traveled slowly onward until dawn,
when, to his chagrin, he discovered a mounted Arab upon his trail.
It was one of Achmet Zek's minions, many of whom were scattered
in all directions through the forest, searching for the fugitive
Belgian.
Jane Clayton's escape had not yet been discovered when Achmet Zek
and his searchers set forth to overhaul Werper. The only man who
had seen the Belgian after his departure from his tent was the black
sentry before the doorway of Lady Greystoke's prison hut, and he
had been silenced by the discovery of the dead body of the man who
had relieved him, the sentry that Mugambi had dispatched.
The bribe taker naturally inferred that Werper had slain his fellow
and dared not admit that he had permitted him to enter the hut,
fearing as he did, the anger of Achmet Zek. So, as chance directed
that he should be the one to discover the body of the sentry when
the first alarm had been given following Achmet Zek's discovery
that Werper had outwitted him, the crafty black had dragged the
dead body to the interior of a nearby tent, and himself resumed his
station before the doorway of the hut in which he still believed
the woman to be.
With the discovery of the Arab close behind him, the Belgian hid
in the foliage of a leafy bush. Here the trail ran straight for
a considerable distance, and down the shady forest aisle, beneath
the overarching branches of the trees, rode the white-robed figure
of the pursuer.
Nearer and nearer he came. Werper crouched closer to the ground
behind the leaves of his hiding place. Across the trail a vine
moved. Werper's eyes instantly centered upon the spot. There was
no wind to stir the foliage in the depths of the jungle. Again
the vine moved. In the mind of the Belgian only the presence of
a sinister and malevolent force could account for the phenomenon.
The man's eyes bored steadily into the screen of leaves upon the
opposite side of the trail. Gradually a form took shape beyond
them--a tawny form, grim and terrible, with yellow-green eyes
glaring fearsomely across the narrow trail straight into his.
Werper could have screamed in fright, but up the trail was coming
the messenger of another death, equally sure and no less terrible.
He remained silent, almost paralyzed by fear. The Arab approached.
Across the trail from Werper the lion crouched for the spring, when
suddenly his attention was attracted toward the horseman.
The Belgian saw the massive head turn in the direction of the raider
and his heart all but ceased its beating as he awaited the result
of this interruption. At a walk the horseman approached. Would
the nervous animal he rode take fright at the odor of the carnivore,
and, bolting, leave Werper still to the mercies of the king of
beasts?
But he seemed unmindful of the near presence of the great cat. On
he came, his neck arched, champing at the bit between his teeth.
The Belgian turned his eyes again toward the lion. The beast's
whole attention now seemed riveted upon the horseman. They were
abreast the lion now, and still the brute did not spring. Could
he be but waiting for them to pass before returning his attention
to the original prey? Werper shuddered and half rose. At the same
instant the lion sprang from his place of concealment, full upon
the mounted man. The horse, with a shrill neigh of terror, shrank
sideways almost upon the Belgian, the lion dragged the helpless
Arab from his saddle, and the horse leaped back into the trail and
fled away toward the west.
But he did not flee alone. As the frightened beast had pressed
in upon him, Werper had not been slow to note the quickly emptied
saddle and the opportunity it presented. Scarcely had the lion
dragged the Arab down from one side, than the Belgian, seizing the
pommel of the saddle and the horse's mane, leaped upon the horse's
back from the other.
A half hour later a naked giant, swinging easily through the lower
branches of the trees, paused, and with raised head, and dilating
nostrils sniffed the morning air. The smell of blood fell strong
upon his senses, and mingled with it was the scent of Numa, the
lion. The giant cocked his head upon one side and listened.
From a short distance up the trail came the unmistakable noises of
the greedy feeding of a lion. The crunching of bones, the gulping
of great pieces, the contented growling, all attested the nearness
of the king at table.
Tarzan approached the spot, still keeping to the branches of the
trees. He made no effort to conceal his approach, and presently
he had evidence that Numa had heard him, from the ominous, rumbling
warning that broke from a thicket beside the trail.
Halting upon a low branch just above the lion Tarzan looked down
upon the grisly scene. Could this unrecognizable thing be the man
he had been trailing? The ape-man wondered. From time to time he
had descended to the trail and verified his judgment by the evidence
of his scent that the Belgian had followed this game trail toward
the east.
Now he proceeded beyond the lion and his feast, again descended and
examined the ground with his nose. There was no scent spoor here
of the man he had been trailing. Tarzan returned to the tree. With
keen eyes he searched the ground about the mutilated corpse for a
sign of the missing pouch of pretty pebbles; but naught could he
see of it.
He scolded Numa and tried to drive the great beast away; but only
angry growls rewarded his efforts. He tore small branches from a
nearby limb and hurled them at his ancient enemy. Numa looked up
with bared fangs, grinning hideously, but he did not rise from his
kill.
Then Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow, and drawing the slim shaft
far back let drive with all the force of the tough wood that only
he could bend. As the arrow sank deeply into his side, Numa leaped
to his feet with a roar of mingled rage and pain. He leaped futilely
at the grinning ape-man, tore at the protruding end of the shaft,
and then, springing into the trail, paced back and forth beneath
his tormentor. Again Tarzan loosed a swift bolt. This time the
missile, aimed with care, lodged in the lion's spine. The great
creature halted in its tracks, and lurched awkwardly forward upon
its face, paralyzed.
Tarzan dropped to the trail, ran quickly to the beast's side, and
drove his spear deep into the fierce heart, then after recovering
his arrows turned his attention to the mutilated remains of the
animal's prey in the nearby thicket.
The face was gone. The Arab garments aroused no doubt as to the
man's identity, since he had trailed him into the Arab camp and out
again, where he might easily have acquired the apparel. So sure
was Tarzan that the body was that of he who had robbed him that
he made no effort to verify his deductions by scent among the
conglomerate odors of the great carnivore and the fresh blood of
the victim.
He confined his attentions to a careful search for the pouch, but
nowhere upon or about the corpse was any sign of the missing article
or its contents. The ape-man was disappointed--possibly not so
much because of the loss of the colored pebbles as with Numa for
robbing him of the pleasures of revenge.
Wondering what could have become of his possessions, the ape-man
turned slowly back along the trail in the direction from which he
had come. In his mind he revolved a plan to enter and search the
Arab camp, after darkness had again fallen. Taking to the trees,
he moved directly south in search of prey, that he might satisfy
his hunger before midday, and then lie up for the afternoon in
some spot far from the camp, where he might sleep without fear of
discovery until it came time to prosecute his design.
Scarcely had he quitted the trail when a tall, black warrior,
moving at a dogged trot, passed toward the east. It was Mugambi,
searching for his mistress. He continued along the trail, halting
to examine the body of the dead lion. An expression of puzzlement
crossed his features as he bent to search for the wounds which
had caused the death of the jungle lord. Tarzan had removed his
arrows, but to Mugambi the proof of death was as strong as though
both the lighter missiles and the spear still protruded from the
carcass.
The black looked furtively about him. The body was still warm,
and from this fact he reasoned that the killer was close at hand,
yet no sign of living man appeared. Mugambi shook his head, and
continued along the trail, but with redoubled caution.
All day he traveled, stopping occasionally to call aloud the single
word, "Lady," in the hope that at last she might hear and respond;
but in the end his loyal devotion brought him to disaster.
From the northeast, for several months, Abdul Mourak, in command of
a detachment of Abyssinian soldiers, had been assiduously searching
for the Arab raider, Achmet Zek, who, six months previously, had
affronted the majesty of Abdul Mourak's emperor by conducting a
slave raid within the boundaries of Menelek's domain.
And now it happened that Abdul Mourak had halted for a short rest
at noon upon this very day and along the same trail that Werper
and Mugambi were following toward the east.
It was shortly after the soldiers had dismounted that the Belgian,
unaware of their presence, rode his tired mount almost into their
midst, before he had discovered them. Instantly he was surrounded,
and a volley of questions hurled at him, as he was pulled from his
horse and led toward the presence of the commander.
Falling back upon his European nationality, Werper assured Abdul
Mourak that he was a Frenchman, hunting in Africa, and that he had
been attacked by strangers, his safari killed or scattered, and
himself escaping only by a miracle.
From a chance remark of the Abyssinian, Werper discovered the
purpose of the expedition, and when he realized that these men were
the enemies of Achmet Zek, he took heart, and immediately blamed
his predicament upon the Arab.
Lest, however, he might again fall into the hands of the raider, he
discouraged Abdul Mourak in the further prosecution of his pursuit,
assuring the Abyssinian that Achmet Zek commanded a large and
dangerous force, and also that he was marching rapidly toward the
south.
Convinced that it would take a long time to overhaul the raider,
and that the chances of engagement made the outcome extremely
questionable, Mourak, none too unwillingly, abandoned his plan and
gave the necessary orders for his command to pitch camp where they
were, preparatory to taking up the return march toward Abyssinia
the following morning.
It was late in the afternoon that the attention of the camp was
attracted toward the west by the sound of a powerful voice calling
a single word, repeated several times: "Lady! Lady! Lady!"
True to their instincts of precaution, a number of Abyssinians,
acting under orders from Abdul Mourak, advanced stealthily through
the jungle toward the author of the call.
A half hour later they returned, dragging Mugambi among them. The
first person the big black's eyes fell upon as he was hustled into
the presence of the Abyssinian officer, was M. Jules Frecoult, the
Frenchman who had been the guest of his master and whom he last had
seen entering the village of Achmet Zek under circumstances which
pointed to his familiarity and friendship for the raiders.
Between the disasters that had befallen his master and his master's
house, and the Frenchman, Mugambi saw a sinister relationship,
which kept him from recalling to Werper's attention the identity
which the latter evidently failed to recognize.
Pleading that he was but a harmless hunter from a tribe farther
south, Mugambi begged to be allowed to go upon his way; but Abdul
Mourak, admiring the warrior's splendid physique, decided to take
him back to Adis Abeba and present him to Menelek. A few moments
later Mugambi and Werper were marched away under guard, and the
Belgian learned for the first time, that he too was a prisoner
rather than a guest. In vain he protested against such treatment,
until a strapping soldier struck him across the mouth and threatened
to shoot him if he did not desist.
Mugambi took the matter less to heart, for he had not the slightest
doubt but that during the course of the journey he would find ample
opportunity to elude the vigilance of his guards and make good his
escape. With this idea always uppermost in his mind, he courted
the good opinion of the Abyssinians, asked them many questions about
their emperor and their country, and evinced a growing desire to
reach their destination, that he might enjoy all the good things
which they assured him the city of Adis Abeba contained. Thus he
disarmed their suspicions, and each day found a slight relaxation
of their watchfulness over him.
By taking advantage of the fact that he and Werper always were
kept together, Mugambi sought to learn what the other knew of
the whereabouts of Tarzan, or the authorship of the raid upon the
bungalow, as well as the fate of Lady Greystoke; but as he was
confined to the accidents of conversation for this information, not
daring to acquaint Werper with his true identity, and as Werper was
equally anxious to conceal from the world his part in the destruction
of his host's home and happiness, Mugambi learned nothing--at least
in this way.
But there came a time when he learned a very surprising thing, by
accident.
The party had camped early in the afternoon of a sultry day, upon
the banks of a clear and beautiful stream. The bottom of the river
was gravelly, there was no indication of crocodiles, those menaces
to promiscuous bathing in the rivers of certain portions of the dark
continent, and so the Abyssinians took advantage of the opportunity
to perform long-deferred, and much needed, ablutions.
As Werper, who, with Mugambi, had been given permission to enter
the water, removed his clothing, the black noted the care with
which he unfastened something which circled his waist, and which
he took off with his shirt, keeping the latter always around and
concealing the object of his suspicious solicitude.
It was this very carefulness which attracted the black's attention
to the thing, arousing a natural curiosity in the warrior's mind,
and so it chanced that when the Belgian, in the nervousness of
overcaution, fumbled the hidden article and dropped it, Mugambi saw
it as it fell upon the ground, spilling a portion of its contents
on the sward.
Now Mugambi had been to London with his master. He was not the
unsophisticated savage that his apparel proclaimed him. He had
mingled with the cosmopolitan hordes of the greatest city in the
world; he had visited museums and inspected shop windows; and,
besides, he was a shrewd and intelligent man.
The instant that the jewels of Opar rolled, scintillating, before
his astonished eyes, he recognized them for what they were; but
he recognized something else, too, that interested him far more
deeply than the value of the stones. A thousand times he had seen
the leathern pouch which dangled at his master's side, when Tarzan
of the Apes had, in a spirit of play and adventure, elected to
return for a few hours to the primitive manners and customs of his
boyhood, and surrounded by his naked warriors hunt the lion and
the leopard, the buffalo and the elephant after the manner he loved
best.
Werper saw that Mugambi had seen the pouch and the stones. Hastily
he gathered up the precious gems and returned them to their container,
while Mugambi, assuming an air of indifference, strolled down to
the river for his bath.
The following morning Abdul Mourak was enraged and chagrined
to discover that this huge, black prisoner had escaped during the
night, while Werper was terrified for the same reason, until his
trembling fingers discovered the pouch still in its place beneath
his shirt, and within it the hard outlines of its contents.
