5
In the Kor-ul-gryf
As Tarzan fell among his enemies a man halted many miles away upon
the outer verge of the morass that encircles Pal-ul-don. Naked he
was except for a loin cloth and three belts of cartridges, two of
which passed over his shoulders, crossing upon his chest and back,
while the third encircled his waist. Slung to his back by its leathern
sling-strap was an Enfield, and he carried too a long knife, a bow
and a quiver of arrows. He had come far, through wild and savage
lands, menaced by fierce beasts and fiercer men, yet intact to the
last cartridge was the ammunition that had filled his belts the
day that he set out.
The bow and the arrows and the long knife had brought him thus far
safely, yet often in the face of great risks that could have been
minimized by a single shot from the well-kept rifle at his back.
What purpose might he have for conserving this precious ammunition?
in risking his life to bring the last bright shining missile to his
unknown goal? For what, for whom were these death-dealing bits of
metal preserved? In all the world only he knew.
When Pan-at-lee stepped over the edge of the cliff above Kor-ul-lul
she expected to be dashed to instant death upon the rocks below;
but she had chosen this in preference to the rending fangs of ja.
Instead, chance had ordained that she make the frightful plunge at
a point where the tumbling river swung close beneath the overhanging
cliff to eddy for a slow moment in a deep pool before plunging madly
downward again in a cataract of boiling foam, and water thundering
against rocks.
Into this icy pool the girl shot, and down and down beneath the
watery surface until, half choked, yet fighting bravely, she battled
her way once more to air. Swimming strongly she made the opposite
shore and there dragged herself out upon the bank to lie panting
and spent until the approaching dawn warned her to seek concealment,
for she was in the country of her people's enemies.
Rising, she moved into the concealment of the rank vegetation that
grows so riotously in the well-watered kors(1) of Pal-ul-don.
_______________________________________________________________
(1) I have used the Pal-ul-don word for gorge with the English
plural, which is not the correct native plural form. The latter,
it seems to me, is awkward for us and so I have generally ignored
it throughout my manuscript, permitting, for example, Kor-ul-ja
to answer for both singular and plural. However, for the benefit
of those who may be interested in such things I may say that the
plurals are formed simply for all words in the Pal-ul-don language
by doubling the initial letter of the word, as k'kor, gorges, pronounced
as though written kakor, the a having the sound of a in sofa. Lions,
d' don.
_______________________________________________________________
Hidden amidst the plant life from the sight of any who might
chance to pass along the well-beaten trail that skirted the river
Pan-at-lee sought rest and food, the latter growing in abundance
all about her in the form of fruits and berries and succulent tubers
which she scooped from the earth with the knife of the dead Es-sat.
Ah! if she had but known that he was dead! What trials and risks
and terrors she might have been saved; but she thought that he
still lived and so she dared not return to Kor-ul-ja. At least not
yet while his rage was at white heat. Later, perhaps, her father
and brothers returned to their cave, she might risk it; but not
now--not now. Nor could she for long remain here in the neighborhood
of the hostile Kor-ul-lul and somewhere she must find safety from
beasts before the night set in.
As she sat upon the bole of a fallen tree seeking some solution
of the problem of existence that confronted her, there broke upon
her ears from up the gorge the voices of shouting men--a sound that
she recognized all too well. It was the war cry of the Kor-ul-lul.
Closer and closer it approached her hiding place. Then, through
the veil of foliage she caught glimpses of three figures fleeing
along the trail, and behind them the shouting of the pursuers rose
louder and louder as they neared her. Again she caught sight of
the fugitives crossing the river below the cataract and again they
were lost to sight. And now the pursuers came into view--shouting
Kor-ul-lul warriors, fierce and implacable. Forty, perhaps fifty
of them. She waited breathless; but they did not swerve from the
trail and passed her, unguessing that an enemy she lay hid within
a few yards of them.
Once again she caught sight of the pursued--three Waz-don warriors
clambering the cliff face at a point where portions of the summit
had fallen away presenting a steep slope that might be ascended by
such as these. Suddenly her attention was riveted upon the three.
Could it be? O Jad-ben-Otho! had she but known a moment before. When
they passed she might have joined them, for they were her father
and two brothers. Now it was too late. With bated breath and tense
muscles she watched the race. Would they reach the summit? Would the
Kor-ul-lul overhaul them? They climbed well, but, oh, so slowly.
Now one lost his footing in the loose shale and slipped back!
The Kor-ul-lul were ascending--one hurled his club at the nearest
fugitive. The Great God was pleased with the brother of Pan-at-lee,
for he caused the club to fall short of its target, and to fall,
rolling and bounding, back upon its owner carrying him from his
feet and precipitating him to the bottom of the gorge.
Standing now, her hands pressed tight above her golden breastplates,
Pan-at-lee watched the race for life. Now one, her older brother,
reached the summit and clinging there to something that she could
not see he lowered his body and his long tail to the father beneath
him. The latter, seizing this support, extended his own tail
to the son below--the one who had slipped back--and thus, upon
a living ladder of their own making, the three reached the summit
and disappeared from view before the Kor-ul-lul overtook them. But
the latter did not abandon the chase. On they went until they too
had disappeared from sight and only a faint shouting came down to
Pan-at-lee to tell her that the pursuit continued.
The girl knew that she must move on. At any moment now might come
a hunting party, combing the gorge for the smaller animals that
fed or bedded there.
Behind her were Es-sat and the returning party of Kor-ul-lul that
had pursued her kin; before her, across the next ridge, was the
Kor-ul-gryf, the lair of the terrifying monsters that brought the
chill of fear to every inhabitant of Pal-ul-don; below her, in the
valley, was the country of the Ho-don, where she could look for only
slavery, or death; here were the Kor-ul-lul, the ancient enemies of
her people and everywhere were the wild beasts that eat the flesh
of man.
For but a moment she debated and then turning her face toward
the southeast she set out across the gorge of water toward the
Kor-ul-gryf--at least there were no men there. As it is now, so
it was in the beginning, back to the primitive progenitor of man
which is typified by Pan-at-lee and her kind today, of all the
hunters that woman fears, man is the most relentless, the most
terrible. To the dangers of man she preferred the dangers of the
gryf.
Moving cautiously she reached the foot of the cliff at the far
side of Kor-ul-lul and here, toward noon, she found a comparatively
easy ascent. Crossing the ridge she stood at last upon the brink
of Kor-ul-gryf--the horror place of the folklore of her race. Dank
and mysterious grew the vegetation below; giant trees waved their
plumed tops almost level with the summit of the cliff; and over
all brooded an ominous silence.
Pan-at-lee lay upon her belly and stretching over the edge scanned
the cliff face below her. She could see caves there and the stone
pegs which the ancients had fashioned so laboriously by hand. She
had heard of these in the firelight tales of her childhood and of
how the gryfs had come from the morasses across the mountains and
of how at last the people had fled after many had been seized and
devoured by the hideous creatures, leaving their caves untenanted
for no man living knew how long. Some said that Jad-ben-Otho, who
has lived forever, was still a little boy. Pan-at-lee shuddered;
but there were caves and in them she would be safe even from the
gryfs.
She found a place where the stone pegs reached to the very summit
of the cliff, left there no doubt in the final exodus of the tribe
when there was no longer need of safeguarding the deserted caves
against invasion. Pan-at-lee clambered slowly down toward the
uppermost cave. She found the recess in front of the doorway almost
identical with those of her own tribe. The floor of it, though,
was littered with twigs and old nests and the droppings of birds,
until it was half choked. She moved along to another recess and
still another, but all were alike in the accumulated filth. Evidently
there was no need in looking further. This one seemed large and
commodious. With her knife she fell to work cleaning away the debris
by the simple expedient of pushing it over the edge, and always
her eyes turned constantly toward the silent gorge where lurked the
fearsome creatures of Pal-ul-don. And other eyes there were, eyes
she did not see, but that saw her and watched her every move--fierce
eyes, greedy eyes, cunning and cruel. They watched her, and a
red tongue licked flabby, pendulous lips. They watched her, and a
half-human brain laboriously evolved a brutish design.
As in her own Kor-ul-ja, the natural springs in the cliff had been
developed by the long-dead builders of the caves so that fresh,
pure water trickled now, as it had for ages, within easy access to
the cave entrances. Her only difficulty would be in procuring food
and for that she must take the risk at least once in two days,
for she was sure that she could find fruits and tubers and perhaps
small animals, birds, and eggs near the foot of the cliff, the
last two, possibly, in the caves themselves. Thus might she live
on here indefinitely. She felt now a certain sense of security
imparted doubtless by the impregnability of her high-flung sanctuary
that she knew to be safe from all the more dangerous beasts, and
this one from men, too, since it lay in the abjured Kor-ul-gryf.
Now she determined to inspect the interior of her new home. The sun
still in the south, lighted the interior of the first apartment.
It was similar to those of her experience--the same beasts and
men were depicted in the same crude fashion in the carvings on the
walls--evidently there had been little progress in the race of
Waz-don during the generations that had come and departed since
Kor-ul-gryf had been abandoned by men. Of course Pan-at-lee thought
no such thoughts, for evolution and progress existed not for her,
or her kind. Things were as they had always been and would always
be as they were.
That these strange creatures have existed thus for incalculable
ages it can scarce be doubted, so marked are the indications of
antiquity about their dwellings--deep furrows worn by naked feet in
living rock; the hollow in the jamb of a stone doorway where many
arms have touched in passing; the endless carvings that cover,
ofttimes, the entire face of a great cliff and all the walls and
ceilings of every cave and each carving wrought by a different hand,
for each is the coat of arms, one might say, of the adult male who
traced it.
And so Pan-at-lee found this ancient cave homelike and familiar.
There was less litter within than she had found without and what
there was was mostly an accumulation of dust. Beside the doorway
was the niche in which wood and tinder were kept, but there remained
nothing now other than mere dust. She had however saved a little
pile of twigs from the debris on the porch. In a short time she had
made a light by firing a bundle of twigs and lighting others from
this fire she explored some of the inner rooms. Nor here did she
find aught that was new or strange nor any relic of the departed
owners other than a few broken stone dishes. She had been looking
for something soft to sleep upon, but was doomed to disappointment
as the former owners had evidently made a leisurely departure,
carrying all their belongings with them. Below, in the gorge were
leaves and grasses and fragrant branches, but Pan-at-lee felt no
stomach for descending into that horrid abyss for the gratification
of mere creature comfort--only the necessity for food would drive
her there.
And so, as the shadows lengthened and night approached she prepared
to make as comfortable a bed as she could by gathering the dust
of ages into a little pile and spreading it between her soft body
and the hard floor--at best it was only better than nothing. But
Pan-at-lee was very tired. She had not slept since two nights before
and in the interval she had experienced many dangers and hardships.
What wonder then that despite the hard bed, she was asleep almost
immediately she had composed herself for rest.
She slept and the moon rose, casting its silver light upon the
cliff's white face and lessening the gloom of the dark forest and
the dismal gorge. In the distance a lion roared. There was a long
silence. From the upper reaches of the gorge came a deep bellow.
There was a movement in the trees at the cliff's foot. Again the
bellow, low and ominous. It was answered from below the deserted
village. Something dropped from the foliage of a tree directly
below the cave in which Pan-at-lee slept--it dropped to the ground
among the dense shadows. Now it moved, cautiously. It moved toward
the foot of the cliff, taking form and shape in the moonlight.
It moved like the creature of a bad dream--slowly, sluggishly. It
might have been a huge sloth--it might have been a man, with so
grotesque a brush does the moon paint--master cubist.
Slowly it moved up the face of the cliff--like a great grubworm
it moved, but now the moon-brush touched it again and it had hands
and feet and with them it clung to the stone pegs and raised itself
laboriously aloft toward the cave where Pan-at-lee slept. From the
lower reaches of the gorge came again the sound of bellowing, and
it was answered from above the village.
Tarzan of the Apes opened his eyes. He was conscious of a pain in
his head, and at first that was about all. A moment later grotesque
shadows, rising and falling, focused his arousing perceptions.
Presently he saw that he was in a cave. A dozen Waz-don warriors
squatted about, talking. A rude stone cresset containing burning oil
lighted the interior and as the flame rose and fell the exaggerated
shadows of the warriors danced upon the walls behind them.
"We brought him to you alive, Gund," he heard one of them saying,
"because never before was Ho-don like him seen. He has no tail--he
was born without one, for there is no scar to mark where a tail had
been cut off. The thumbs upon his hands and feet are unlike those
of the races of Pal-ul-don. He is more powerful than many men put
together and he attacks with the fearlessness of ja. We brought
him alive, that you might see him before he is slain."
The chief rose and approached the ape-man, who closed his eyes and
feigned unconsciousness. He felt hairy hands upon him as he was
turned over, none too gently. The gund examined him from head to
foot, making comments, especially upon the shape and size of his
thumbs and great toes.
"With these and with no tail," he said, "it cannot climb."
"No," agreed one of the warriors, "it would surely fall even from
the cliff pegs."
"I have never seen a thing like it," said the chief. "It is neither
Waz-don nor Ho-don. I wonder from whence it came and what it is
called."
"The Kor-ul-ja shouted aloud, 'Tarzan-jad-guru!' and we thought
that they might be calling this one," said a warrior. "Shall we
kill it now?"
"No," replied the chief, "we will wait until it's life returns into
its head that I may question it. Remain here, In-tan, and watch
it. When it can again hear and speak call me."
He turned and departed from the cave, the others, except In-tan,
following him. As they moved past him and out of the chamber
Tarzan caught snatches of their conversation which indicated that
the Kor-ul-ja reinforcements had fallen upon their little party
in great numbers and driven them away. Evidently the swift feet
of Id-an had saved the day for the warriors of Om-at. The ape-man
smiled, then he partially opened an eye and cast it upon In-tan.
The warrior stood at the entrance to the cave looking out--his back
was toward his prisoner. Tarzan tested the bonds that secured his
wrists. They seemed none too stout and they had tied his hands in
front of him! Evidence indeed that the Waz-don took few prisoners--if
any.
Cautiously he raised his wrists until he could examine the thongs
that confined them. A grim smile lighted his features. Instantly he
was at work upon the bonds with his strong teeth, but ever a wary
eye was upon In-tan, the warrior of Kor-ul-lul. The last knot had
been loosened and Tarzan's hands were free when In-tan turned to
cast an appraising eye upon his ward. He saw that the prisoner's
position was changed--he no longer lay upon his back as they had
left him, but upon his side and his hands were drawn up against
his face. In-tan came closer and bent down. The bonds seemed very
loose upon the prisoner's wrists. He extended his hand to examine
them with his fingers and instantly the two hands leaped from
their bonds--one to seize his own wrist, the other his throat.
So unexpected the catlike attack that In-tan had not even time to
cry out before steel fingers silenced him. The creature pulled him
suddenly forward so that he lost his balance and rolled over upon
the prisoner and to the floor beyond to stop with Tarzan upon his
breast. In-tan struggled to release himself--struggled to draw his
knife; but Tarzan found it before him. The Waz-don's tail leaped
to the other's throat, encircling it--he too could choke; but his
own knife, in the hands of his antagonist, severed the beloved
member close to its root.
The Waz-don's struggles became weaker--a film was obscuring his
vision. He knew that he was dying and he was right. A moment later
he was dead. Tarzan rose to his feet and placed one foot upon
the breast of his dead foe. How the urge seized him to roar forth
the victory cry of his kind! But he dared not. He discovered that
they had not removed his rope from his shoulders and that they had
replaced his knife in its sheath. It had been in his hand when he
was felled. Strange creatures! He did not know that they held a
superstitious fear of the weapons of a dead enemy, believing that
if buried without them he would forever haunt his slayers in search
of them and that when he found them he would kill the man who killed
him. Against the wall leaned his bow and quiver of arrows.
Tarzan stepped toward the doorway of the cave and looked out.
Night had just fallen. He could hear voices from the nearer caves
and there floated to his nostrils the odor of cooking food. He looked
down and experienced a sensation of relief. The cave in which he
had been held was in the lowest tier--scarce thirty feet from the
base of the cliff. He was about to chance an immediate descent when
there occurred to him a thought that brought a grin to his savage
lips--a thought that was born of the name the Waz-don had given
him Tarzan-jad-guru--Tarzan the Terrible--and a recollection of
the days when he had delighted in baiting the blacks of the distant
jungle of his birth. He turned back into the cave where lay the
dead body of In-tan. With his knife he severed the warrior's head
and carrying it to the outer edge of the recess tossed it to the
ground below, then he dropped swiftly and silently down the ladder
of pegs in a way that would have surprised the Kor-ul-lul who had
been so sure that he could not climb.
At the bottom he picked up the head of In-tan and disappeared among
the shadows of the trees carrying the grisly trophy by its shock
of shaggy hair. Horrible? But you are judging a wild beast by the
standards of civilization. You may teach a lion tricks, but he
is still a lion. Tarzan looked well in a Tuxedo, but he was still
a Tarmangani and beneath his pleated shirt beat a wild and savage
heart.
Nor was his madness lacking in method. He knew that the hearts of
the Kor-ul-lul would be filled with rage when they discovered the
thing that he had done and he knew too, that mixed with the rage
would be a leaven of fear and it was fear of him that had made
Tarzan master of many jungles--one does not win the respect of the
killers with bonbons.
Below the village Tarzan returned to the foot of the cliff searching
for a point where he could make the ascent to the ridge and thus
back to the village of Om-at, the Kor-ul-ja. He came at last to a
place where the river ran so close to the rocky wall that he was
forced to swim it in search of a trail upon the opposite side and
here it was that his keen nostrils detected a familiar spoor. It
was the scent of Pan-at-lee at the spot where she had emerged from
the pool and taken to the safety of the jungle.
Immediately the ape-man's plans were changed. Pan-at-lee lived,
or at least she had lived after the leap from the cliff's summit.
He had started in search of her for Om-at, his friend, and for Om-at
he would continue upon the trail he had picked up thus fortuitously
by accident. It led him into the jungle and across the gorge and
then to the point at which Pan-at-lee had commenced the ascent
of the opposite cliffs. Here Tarzan abandoned the head of In-tan,
tying it to the lower branch of a tree, for he knew that it would
handicap him in his ascent of the steep escarpment. Apelike he
ascended, following easily the scent spoor of Pan-at-lee. Over the
summit and across the ridge the trail lay, plain as a printed page
to the delicate senses of the jungle-bred tracker.
Tarzan knew naught of the Kor-ul-gryf. He had seen, dimly in the
shadows of the night, strange, monstrous forms and Ta-den and Om-at
had spoken of great creatures that all men feared; but always,
everywhere, by night and by day, there were dangers. From infancy
death had stalked, grim and terrible, at his heels. He knew little
of any other existence. To cope with danger was his life and he
lived his life as simply and as naturally as you live yours amidst
the dangers of the crowded city streets. The black man who goes
abroad in the jungle by night is afraid, for he has spent his life
since infancy surrounded by numbers of his own kind and safeguarded,
especially at night, by such crude means as lie within his powers.
But Tarzan had lived as the lion lives and the panther and the
elephant and the ape--a true jungle creature dependent solely upon
his prowess and his wits, playing a lone hand against creation.
Therefore he was surprised at nothing and feared nothing and so he
walked through the strange night as undisturbed and unapprehensive
as the farmer to the cow lot in the darkness before the dawn.
Once more Pan-at-lee's trail ended at the verge of a cliff; but this
time there was no indication that she had leaped over the edge and
a moment's search revealed to Tarzan the stone pegs upon which she
had made her descent. As he lay upon his belly leaning over the
top of the cliff examining the pegs his attention was suddenly
attracted by something at the foot of the cliff. He could not
distinguish its identity, but he saw that it moved and presently
that it was ascending slowly, apparently by means of pegs similar
to those directly below him. He watched it intently as it rose
higher and higher until he was able to distinguish its form more
clearly, with the result that he became convinced that it more
nearly resembled some form of great ape than a lower order. It had
a tail, though, and in other respects it did not seem a true ape.
Slowly it ascended to the upper tier of caves, into one of which
it disappeared. Then Tarzan took up again the trail of Pan-at-lee.
He followed it down the stone pegs to the nearest cave and then
further along the upper tier. The ape-man raised his eyebrows when
he saw the direction in which it led, and quickened his pace. He
had almost reached the third cave when the echoes of Kor-ul-gryf
were awakened by a shrill scream of terror.
