الفصل الفصل 15 · The Forest God
. The Forest God
When Clayton heard the report of the firearm he fell into an agony of
fear and apprehension. He knew that one of the sailors might be the
author of it; but the fact that he had left the revolver with Jane,
together with the overwrought condition of his nerves, made him
morbidly positive that she was threatened with some great danger.
Perhaps even now she was attempting to defend herself against some
savage man or beast.
What were the thoughts of his strange captor or guide Clayton could
only vaguely conjecture; but that he had heard the shot, and was in
some manner affected by it was quite evident, for he quickened his pace
so appreciably that Clayton, stumbling blindly in his wake, was down a
dozen times in as many minutes in a vain effort to keep pace with him,
and soon was left hopelessly behind.
Fearing that he would again be irretrievably lost, he called aloud to
the wild man ahead of him, and in a moment had the satisfaction of
seeing him drop lightly to his side from the branches above.
For a moment Tarzan looked at the young man closely, as though
undecided as to just what was best to do; then, stooping down before
Clayton, he motioned him to grasp him about the neck, and, with the
white man upon his back, Tarzan took to the trees.
The next few minutes the young Englishman never forgot. High into
bending and swaying branches he was borne with what seemed to him
incredible swiftness, while Tarzan chafed at the slowness of his
progress.
From one lofty branch the agile creature swung with Clayton through a
dizzy arc to a neighboring tree; then for a hundred yards maybe the
sure feet threaded a maze of interwoven limbs, balancing like a
tightrope walker high above the black depths of verdure beneath.
From the first sensation of chilling fear Clayton passed to one of keen
admiration and envy of those giant muscles and that wondrous instinct
or knowledge which guided this forest god through the inky blackness of
the night as easily and safely as Clayton would have strolled a London
street at high noon.
Occasionally they would enter a spot where the foliage above was less
dense, and the bright rays of the moon lit up before Clayton’s
wondering eyes the strange path they were traversing.
At such times the man fairly caught his breath at sight of the horrid
depths below them, for Tarzan took the easiest way, which often led
over a hundred feet above the earth.
And yet with all his seeming speed, Tarzan was in reality feeling his
way with comparative slowness, searching constantly for limbs of
adequate strength for the maintenance of this double weight.
Presently they came to the clearing before the beach. Tarzan’s quick
ears had heard the strange sounds of Sabor’s efforts to force her way
through the lattice, and it seemed to Clayton that they dropped a
straight hundred feet to earth, so quickly did Tarzan descend. Yet when
they struck the ground it was with scarce a jar; and as Clayton
released his hold on the ape-man he saw him dart like a squirrel for
the opposite side of the cabin.
The Englishman sprang quickly after him just in time to see the hind
quarters of some huge animal about to disappear through the window of
the cabin.
As Jane Porter opened her eyes to a realization of the again imminent
peril which threatened her, her brave young heart gave up at last its
final vestige of hope, and she turned to grope for the fallen weapon
that she might mete to herself a merciful death ere the cruel fangs
tore into her fair flesh.
The lioness was almost through the opening before Jane found the
weapon, and she raised it quickly to her temple to shut out forever the
hideous jaws gaping for their prey.
An instant she hesitated, to breathe a short and silent prayer to her
Maker, and as she did so her eyes fell upon her poor Esmeralda lying
inert, but alive, beside the cupboard.
How could she leave the poor, faithful thing to those merciless, yellow
fangs? No, she must use one cartridge on the senseless woman ere she
turned the cold muzzle toward herself again.
How she shrank from the ordeal! But it had been cruelty a thousand
times less justifiable to have left the loving black woman who had
reared her from infancy with all a mother’s care and solicitude, to
regain consciousness beneath the rending claws of the great cat.
Quickly Jane Porter sprang to her feet and ran to the side of the
black. She pressed the muzzle of the revolver tight against that
devoted heart, closed her eyes, and—
Sabor emitted a frightful shriek.
The girl, startled, pulled the trigger and turned to face the beast,
and with the same movement raised the weapon against her own temple.
She did not fire a second time, for to her surprise she saw the huge
animal being slowly drawn back through the window, and in the moonlight
beyond she saw the heads and shoulders of two men.
As Clayton rounded the corner of the cabin to behold the animal
disappearing within, it was also to see the ape-man seize the long tail
in both hands, and, bracing himself with his feet against the side of
the cabin, throw all his mighty strength into the effort to draw the
beast out of the interior.
Clayton was quick to lend a hand, but the ape-man jabbered to him in a
commanding and peremptory tone something which Clayton knew to be
orders, though he could not understand them.
At last, under their combined efforts, the great body was slowly
dragged farther and farther outside the window, and then there came to
Clayton’s mind a dawning conception of the rash bravery of his
companion’s act.
For a naked man to drag a shrieking, clawing man-eater forth from a
window by the tail to save a strange white girl, was indeed the last
word in heroism.
Insofar as Clayton was concerned it was a very different matter, since
the girl was not only of his own kind and race, but was the one woman
in all the world whom he loved.
Though he knew that the lioness would make short work of both of them,
he pulled with a will to keep it from Jane Porter. And then he recalled
the battle between this man and the great, black-maned lion which he
had witnessed a short time before, and he commenced to feel more
assurance.
Tarzan was still issuing orders which Clayton could not understand.
He was trying to tell the stupid white man to plunge his poisoned
arrows into Sabor’s back and sides, and to reach the savage heart with
the long, thin hunting knife that hung at Tarzan’s hip; but the man
would not understand, and Tarzan did not dare release his hold to do
the things himself, for he knew that the puny white man never could
hold mighty Sabor alone, for an instant.
Slowly the lioness was emerging from the window. At last her shoulders
were out.
And then Clayton saw an incredible thing. Tarzan, racking his brains
for some means to cope single-handed with the infuriated beast, had
suddenly recalled his battle with Terkoz; and as the great shoulders
came clear of the window, so that the lioness hung upon the sill only
by her forepaws, Tarzan suddenly released his hold upon the brute.
With the quickness of a striking rattler he launched himself full upon
Sabor’s back, his strong young arms seeking and gaining a full-Nelson
upon the beast, as he had learned it that other day during his bloody,
wrestling victory over Terkoz.
With a roar the lioness turned completely over upon her back, falling
full upon her enemy; but the black-haired giant only closed tighter his
hold.
Pawing and tearing at earth and air, Sabor rolled and threw herself
this way and that in an effort to dislodge this strange antagonist; but
ever tighter and tighter drew the iron bands that were forcing her head
lower and lower upon her tawny breast.
Higher crept the steel forearms of the ape-man about the back of
Sabor’s neck. Weaker and weaker became the lioness’s efforts.
At last Clayton saw the immense muscles of Tarzan’s shoulders and
biceps leap into corded knots beneath the silver moonlight. There was a
long sustained and supreme effort on the ape-man’s part—and the
vertebrae of Sabor’s neck parted with a sharp snap.
In an instant Tarzan was upon his feet, and for the second time that
day Clayton heard the bull ape’s savage roar of victory. Then he heard
Jane’s agonized cry:
“Cecil—Mr. Clayton! Oh, what is it? What is it?”
Running quickly to the cabin door, Clayton called out that all was
right, and shouted to her to open the door. As quickly as she could she
raised the great bar and fairly dragged Clayton within.
“What was that awful noise?” she whispered, shrinking close to him.
“It was the cry of the kill from the throat of the man who has just
saved your life, Miss Porter. Wait, I will fetch him so you may thank
him.”
The frightened girl would not be left alone, so she accompanied Clayton
to the side of the cabin where lay the dead body of the lioness.
Tarzan of the Apes was gone.
Clayton called several times, but there was no reply, and so the two
returned to the greater safety of the interior.
“What a frightful sound!” cried Jane, “I shudder at the mere thought of
it. Do not tell me that a human throat voiced that hideous and fearsome
shriek.”
“But it did, Miss Porter,” replied Clayton; “or at least if not a human
throat that of a forest god.”
And then he told her of his experiences with this strange creature—of
how twice the wild man had saved his life—of the wondrous strength, and
agility, and bravery—of the brown skin and the handsome face.
“I cannot make it out at all,” he concluded. “At first I thought he
might be Tarzan of the Apes; but he neither speaks nor understands
English, so that theory is untenable.”
“Well, whatever he may be,” cried the girl, “we owe him our lives, and
may God bless him and keep him in safety in his wild and savage
jungle!”
“Amen,” said Clayton, fervently.
“For the good Lord’s sake, ain’t I dead?”
The two turned to see Esmeralda sitting upright upon the floor, her
great eyes rolling from side to side as though she could not believe
their testimony as to her whereabouts.
And now, for Jane Porter, the reaction came, and she threw herself upon
the bench, sobbing with hysterical laughter.