Kabanata Kabanata 9 · Man and Man

. Man and Man

Tarzan of the Apes lived on in his wild, jungle existence with little

change for several years, only that he grew stronger and wiser, and

learned from his books more and more of the strange worlds which lay

somewhere outside his primeval forest.

To him life was never monotonous or stale. There was always Pisah, the

fish, to be caught in the many streams and the little lakes, and Sabor,

with her ferocious cousins to keep one ever on the alert and give zest

to every instant that one spent upon the ground.

Often they hunted him, and more often he hunted them, but though they

never quite reached him with those cruel, sharp claws of theirs, yet

there were times when one could scarce have passed a thick leaf between

their talons and his smooth hide.

Quick was Sabor, the lioness, and quick were Numa and Sheeta, but

Tarzan of the Apes was lightning.

With Tantor, the elephant, he made friends. How? Ask not. But this is

known to the denizens of the jungle, that on many moonlight nights

Tarzan of the Apes and Tantor, the elephant, walked together, and where

the way was clear Tarzan rode, perched high upon Tantor’s mighty back.

Many days during these years he spent in the cabin of his father, where

still lay, untouched, the bones of his parents and the skeleton of

Kala’s baby. At eighteen he read fluently and understood nearly all he

read in the many and varied volumes on the shelves.

Also could he write, with printed letters, rapidly and plainly, but

script he had not mastered, for though there were several copy books

among his treasure, there was so little written English in the cabin

that he saw no use for bothering with this other form of writing,

though he could read it, laboriously.

Thus, at eighteen, we find him, an English lordling, who could speak no

English, and yet who could read and write his native language. Never

had he seen a human being other than himself, for the little area

traversed by his tribe was watered by no greater river to bring down

the savage natives of the interior.

High hills shut it off on three sides, the ocean on the fourth. It was

alive with lions and leopards and poisonous snakes. Its untouched mazes

of matted jungle had as yet invited no hardy pioneer from the human

beasts beyond its frontier.

But as Tarzan of the Apes sat one day in the cabin of his father

delving into the mysteries of a new book, the ancient security of his

jungle was broken forever.

At the far eastern confine a strange cavalcade strung, in single file,

over the brow of a low hill.

In advance were fifty black warriors armed with slender wooden spears

with ends hard baked over slow fires, and long bows and poisoned

arrows. On their backs were oval shields, in their noses huge rings,

while from the kinky wool of their heads protruded tufts of gay

feathers.

Across their foreheads were tattooed three parallel lines of color, and

on each breast three concentric circles. Their yellow teeth were filed

to sharp points, and their great protruding lips added still further to

the low and bestial brutishness of their appearance.

Following them were several hundred women and children, the former

bearing upon their heads great burdens of cooking pots, household

utensils and ivory. In the rear were a hundred warriors, similar in all

respects to the advance guard.

That they more greatly feared an attack from the rear than whatever

unknown enemies lurked in their advance was evidenced by the formation

of the column; and such was the fact, for they were fleeing from the

white man’s soldiers who had so harassed them for rubber and ivory that

they had turned upon their conquerors one day and massacred a white

officer and a small detachment of his black troops.

For many days they had gorged themselves on meat, but eventually a

stronger body of troops had come and fallen upon their village by night

to revenge the death of their comrades.

That night the black soldiers of the white man had had meat a-plenty,

and this little remnant of a once powerful tribe had slunk off into the

gloomy jungle toward the unknown, and freedom.

But that which meant freedom and the pursuit of happiness to these

savage blacks meant consternation and death to many of the wild

denizens of their new home.

For three days the little cavalcade marched slowly through the heart of

this unknown and untracked forest, until finally, early in the fourth

day, they came upon a little spot near the banks of a small river,

which seemed less thickly overgrown than any ground they had yet

encountered.

Here they set to work to build a new village, and in a month a great

clearing had been made, huts and palisades erected, plantains, yams and

maize planted, and they had taken up their old life in their new home.

Here there were no white men, no soldiers, nor any rubber or ivory to

be gathered for cruel and thankless taskmasters.

Several moons passed by ere the blacks ventured far into the territory

surrounding their new village. Several had already fallen prey to old

Sabor, and because the jungle was so infested with these fierce and

bloodthirsty cats, and with lions and leopards, the ebony warriors

hesitated to trust themselves far from the safety of their palisades.

But one day, Kulonga, a son of the old king, Mbonga, wandered far into

the dense mazes to the west. Warily he stepped, his slender lance ever

ready, his long oval shield firmly grasped in his left hand close to

his sleek ebony body.

At his back his bow, and in the quiver upon his shield many slim,

straight arrows, well smeared with the thick, dark, tarry substance

that rendered deadly their tiniest needle prick.

Night found Kulonga far from the palisades of his father’s village, but

still headed westward, and climbing into the fork of a great tree he

fashioned a rude platform and curled himself for sleep.

Three miles to the west slept the tribe of Kerchak.

Early the next morning the apes were astir, moving through the jungle

in search of food. Tarzan, as was his custom, prosecuted his search in

the direction of the cabin so that by leisurely hunting on the way his

stomach was filled by the time he reached the beach.

The apes scattered by ones, and twos, and threes in all directions, but

ever within sound of a signal of alarm.

Kala had moved slowly along an elephant track toward the east, and was

busily engaged in turning over rotted limbs and logs in search of

succulent bugs and fungi, when the faintest shadow of a strange noise

brought her to startled attention.

For fifty yards before her the trail was straight, and down this leafy

tunnel she saw the stealthy advancing figure of a strange and fearful

creature.

It was Kulonga.

Kala did not wait to see more, but, turning, moved rapidly back along

the trail. She did not run; but, after the manner of her kind when not

aroused, sought rather to avoid than to escape.

Close after her came Kulonga. Here was meat. He could make a killing

and feast well this day. On he hurried, his spear poised for the throw.

At a turning of the trail he came in sight of her again upon another

straight stretch. His spear hand went far back, the muscles rolled,

lightning-like, beneath the sleek hide. Out shot the arm, and the spear

sped toward Kala.

A poor cast. It but grazed her side.

With a cry of rage and pain the she-ape turned upon her tormentor. In

an instant the trees were crashing beneath the weight of her hurrying

fellows, swinging rapidly toward the scene of trouble in answer to

Kala’s scream.

As she charged, Kulonga unslung his bow and fitted an arrow with almost

unthinkable quickness. Drawing the shaft far back he drove the poisoned

missile straight into the heart of the great anthropoid.

With a horrid scream Kala plunged forward upon her face before the

astonished members of her tribe.

Roaring and shrieking the apes dashed toward Kulonga, but that wary

savage was fleeing down the trail like a frightened antelope.

He knew something of the ferocity of these wild, hairy men, and his one

desire was to put as many miles between himself and them as he possibly

could.

They followed him, racing through the trees, for a long distance, but

finally one by one they abandoned the chase and returned to the scene

of the tragedy.

None of them had ever seen a man before, other than Tarzan, and so they

wondered vaguely what strange manner of creature it might be that had

invaded their jungle.

On the far beach by the little cabin Tarzan heard the faint echoes of

the conflict and knowing that something was seriously amiss among the

tribe he hastened rapidly toward the direction of the sound.

When he arrived he found the entire tribe gathered jabbering about the

dead body of his slain mother.

Tarzan’s grief and anger were unbounded. He roared out his hideous

challenge time and again. He beat upon his great chest with his

clenched fists, and then he fell upon the body of Kala and sobbed out

the pitiful sorrowing of his lonely heart.

To lose the only creature in all his world who ever had manifested love

and affection for him was the greatest tragedy he had ever known.

What though Kala was a fierce and hideous ape! To Tarzan she had been

kind, she had been beautiful.

Upon her he had lavished, unknown to himself, all the reverence and

respect and love that a normal English boy feels for his own mother. He

had never known another, and so to Kala was given, though mutely, all

that would have belonged to the fair and lovely Lady Alice had she

lived.

After the first outburst of grief Tarzan controlled himself, and

questioning the members of the tribe who had witnessed the killing of

Kala he learned all that their meager vocabulary could convey.

It was enough, however, for his needs. It told him of a strange,

hairless, black ape with feathers growing upon its head, who launched

death from a slender branch, and then ran, with the fleetness of Bara,

the deer, toward the rising sun.

Tarzan waited no longer, but leaping into the branches of the trees

sped rapidly through the forest. He knew the windings of the elephant

trail along which Kala’s murderer had flown, and so he cut straight

through the jungle to intercept the black warrior who was evidently

following the tortuous detours of the trail.

At his side was the hunting knife of his unknown sire, and across his

shoulders the coils of his own long rope. In an hour he struck the

trail again, and coming to earth examined the soil minutely.

In the soft mud on the bank of a tiny rivulet he found footprints such

as he alone in all the jungle had ever made, but much larger than his.

His heart beat fast. Could it be that he was trailing a MAN—one of his

own race?

There were two sets of imprints pointing in opposite directions. So his

quarry had already passed on his return along the trail. As he examined

the newer spoor a tiny particle of earth toppled from the outer edge of

one of the footprints to the bottom of its shallow depression—ah, the

trail was very fresh, his prey must have but scarcely passed.

Tarzan swung himself to the trees once more, and with swift

noiselessness sped along high above the trail.

He had covered barely a mile when he came upon the black warrior

standing in a little open space. In his hand was his slender bow to

which he had fitted one of his death dealing arrows.

Opposite him across the little clearing stood Horta, the boar, with

lowered head and foam flecked tusks, ready to charge.

Tarzan looked with wonder upon the strange creature beneath him—so like

him in form and yet so different in face and color. His books had

portrayed the _negro_, but how different had been the dull, dead print

to this sleek thing of ebony, pulsing with life.

As the man stood there with taut drawn bow Tarzan recognized him not so

much the _negro_ as the _Archer_ of his picture book—

A stands for Archer

How wonderful! Tarzan almost betrayed his presence in the deep

excitement of his discovery.

But things were commencing to happen below him. The sinewy black arm

had drawn the shaft far back; Horta, the boar, was charging, and then

the black released the little poisoned arrow, and Tarzan saw it fly

with the quickness of thought and lodge in the bristling neck of the

boar.

Scarcely had the shaft left his bow ere Kulonga had fitted another to

it, but Horta, the boar, was upon him so quickly that he had no time to

discharge it. With a bound the black leaped entirely over the rushing

beast and turning with incredible swiftness planted a second arrow in

Horta’s back.

Then Kulonga sprang into a near-by tree.

Horta wheeled to charge his enemy once more; a dozen steps he took,

then he staggered and fell upon his side. For a moment his muscles

stiffened and relaxed convulsively, then he lay still.

Kulonga came down from his tree.

With a knife that hung at his side he cut several large pieces from the

boar’s body, and in the center of the trail he built a fire, cooking

and eating as much as he wanted. The rest he left where it had fallen.

Tarzan was an interested spectator. His desire to kill burned fiercely

in his wild breast, but his desire to learn was even greater. He would

follow this savage creature for a while and know from whence he came.

He could kill him at his leisure later, when the bow and deadly arrows

were laid aside.

When Kulonga had finished his repast and disappeared beyond a near

turning of the path, Tarzan dropped quietly to the ground. With his

knife he severed many strips of meat from Horta’s carcass, but he did

not cook them.

He had seen fire, but only when Ara, the lightning, had destroyed some

great tree. That any creature of the jungle could produce the

red-and-yellow fangs which devoured wood and left nothing but fine dust

surprised Tarzan greatly, and why the black warrior had ruined his

delicious repast by plunging it into the blighting heat was quite

beyond him. Possibly Ara was a friend with whom the Archer was sharing

his food.

But, be that as it may, Tarzan would not ruin good meat in any such

foolish manner, so he gobbled down a great quantity of the raw flesh,

burying the balance of the carcass beside the trail where he could find

it upon his return.

And then Lord Greystoke wiped his greasy fingers upon his naked thighs

and took up the trail of Kulonga, the son of Mbonga, the king; while in

far-off London another Lord Greystoke, the younger brother of the real

Lord Greystoke’s father, sent back his chops to the club’s _chef_

because they were underdone, and when he had finished his repast he

dipped his finger-ends into a silver bowl of scented water and dried

them upon a piece of snowy damask.

All day Tarzan followed Kulonga, hovering above him in the trees like

some malign spirit. Twice more he saw him hurl his arrows of

destruction—once at Dango, the hyena, and again at Manu, the monkey. In

each instance the animal died almost instantly, for Kulonga’s poison

was very fresh and very deadly.

Tarzan thought much on this wondrous method of slaying as he swung

slowly along at a safe distance behind his quarry. He knew that alone

the tiny prick of the arrow could not so quickly dispatch these wild

things of the jungle, who were often torn and scratched and gored in a

frightful manner as they fought with their jungle neighbors, yet as

often recovered as not.

No, there was something mysterious connected with these tiny slivers of

wood which could bring death by a mere scratch. He must look into the

matter.

That night Kulonga slept in the crotch of a mighty tree and far above

him crouched Tarzan of the Apes.

When Kulonga awoke he found that his bow and arrows had disappeared.

The black warrior was furious and frightened, but more frightened than

furious. He searched the ground below the tree, and he searched the

tree above the ground; but there was no sign of either bow or arrows or

of the nocturnal marauder.

Kulonga was panic-stricken. His spear he had hurled at Kala and had not

recovered; and, now that his bow and arrows were gone, he was

defenseless except for a single knife. His only hope lay in reaching

the village of Mbonga as quickly as his legs would carry him.

That he was not far from home he was certain, so he took the trail at a

rapid trot.

From a great mass of impenetrable foliage a few yards away emerged

Tarzan of the Apes to swing quietly in his wake.

Kulonga’s bow and arrows were securely tied high in the top of a giant

tree from which a patch of bark had been removed by a sharp knife near

to the ground, and a branch half cut through and left hanging about

fifty feet higher up. Thus Tarzan blazed the forest trails and marked

his caches.

As Kulonga continued his journey Tarzan closed on him until he traveled

almost over the black’s head. His rope he now held coiled in his right

hand; he was almost ready for the kill.

The moment was delayed only because Tarzan was anxious to ascertain the

black warrior’s destination, and presently he was rewarded, for they

came suddenly in view of a great clearing, at one end of which lay many

strange lairs.

Tarzan was directly over Kulonga, as he made the discovery. The forest

ended abruptly and beyond lay two hundred yards of planted fields

between the jungle and the village.

Tarzan must act quickly or his prey would be gone; but Tarzan’s life

training left so little space between decision and action when an

emergency confronted him that there was not even room for the shadow of

a thought between.

So it was that as Kulonga emerged from the shadow of the jungle a

slender coil of rope sped sinuously above him from the lowest branch of

a mighty tree directly upon the edge of the fields of Mbonga, and ere

the king’s son had taken a half dozen steps into the clearing a quick

noose tightened about his neck.

So quickly did Tarzan of the Apes drag back his prey that Kulonga’s cry

of alarm was throttled in his windpipe. Hand over hand Tarzan drew the

struggling black until he had him hanging by his neck in mid-air; then

Tarzan climbed to a larger branch drawing the still threshing victim

well up into the sheltering verdure of the tree.

Here he fastened the rope securely to a stout branch, and then,

descending, plunged his hunting knife into Kulonga’s heart. Kala was

avenged.

Tarzan examined the black minutely, for he had never seen any other

human being. The knife with its sheath and belt caught his eye; he

appropriated them. A copper anklet also took his fancy, and this he

transferred to his own leg.

He examined and admired the tattooing on the forehead and breast. He

marveled at the sharp filed teeth. He investigated and appropriated the

feathered headdress, and then he prepared to get down to business, for

Tarzan of the Apes was hungry, and here was meat; meat of the kill,

which jungle ethics permitted him to eat.

How may we judge him, by what standards, this ape-man with the heart

and head and body of an English gentleman, and the training of a wild

beast?

Tublat, whom he had hated and who had hated him, he had killed in a

fair fight, and yet never had the thought of eating Tublat’s flesh

entered his head. It would have been as revolting to him as is

cannibalism to us.

But who was Kulonga that he might not be eaten as fairly as Horta, the

boar, or Bara, the deer? Was he not simply another of the countless

wild things of the jungle who preyed upon one another to satisfy the

cravings of hunger?

Suddenly, a strange doubt stayed his hand. Had not his books taught him

that he was a man? And was not The Archer a man, also?

Did men eat men? Alas, he did not know. Why, then, this hesitancy! Once

more he essayed the effort, but a qualm of nausea overwhelmed him. He

did not understand.

All he knew was that he could not eat the flesh of this black man, and

thus hereditary instinct, ages old, usurped the functions of his

untaught mind and saved him from transgressing a worldwide law of whose

very existence he was ignorant.

Quickly he lowered Kulonga’s body to the ground, removed the noose, and

took to the trees again.