Bab Bab 10 · The Battle for Teeka

. The Battle for Teeka

The day was perfect. A cool breeze tempered the heat of the equatorial

sun. Peace had reigned within the tribe for weeks and no alien enemy

had trespassed upon its preserves from without. To the ape-mind all

this was sufficient evidence that the future would be identical with

the immediate past—that Utopia would persist.

The sentinels, now from habit become a fixed tribal custom, either

relaxed their vigilance or entirely deserted their posts, as the whim

seized them. The tribe was far scattered in search of food. Thus may

peace and prosperity undermine the safety of the most primitive

community even as it does that of the most cultured.

Even the individuals became less watchful and alert, so that one might

have thought Numa and Sabor and Sheeta entirely deleted from the scheme

of things. The shes and the balus roamed unguarded through the sullen

jungle, while the greedy males foraged far afield, and thus it was that

Teeka and Gazan, her balu, hunted upon the extreme southern edge of the

tribe with no great male near them.

Still farther south there moved through the forest a sinister figure—a

huge bull ape, maddened by solitude and defeat. A week before he had

contended for the kingship of a tribe far distant, and now battered,

and still sore, he roamed the wilderness an outcast. Later he might

return to his own tribe and submit to the will of the hairy brute he

had attempted to dethrone; but for the time being he dared not do so,

since he had sought not only the crown but the wives, as well, of his

lord and master. It would require an entire moon at least to bring

forgetfulness to him he had wronged, and so Toog wandered a strange

jungle, grim, terrible, hate-filled.

It was in this mental state that Toog came unexpectedly upon a young

she feeding alone in the jungle—a stranger she, lithe and strong and

beautiful beyond compare. Toog caught his breath and slunk quickly to

one side of the trail where the dense foliage of the tropical

underbrush concealed him from Teeka while permitting him to feast his

eyes upon her loveliness.

But not alone were they concerned with Teeka—they roved the surrounding

jungle in search of the bulls and cows and balus of her tribe, though

principally for the bulls. When one covets a she of an alien tribe one

must take into consideration the great, fierce, hairy guardians who

seldom wander far from their wards and who will fight a stranger to the

death in protection of the mate or offspring of a fellow, precisely as

they would fight for their own.

Toog could see no sign of any ape other than the strange she and a

young balu playing near by. His wicked, blood-shot eyes half closed as

they rested upon the charms of the former—as for the balu, one snap of

those great jaws upon the back of its little neck would prevent it from

raising any unnecessary alarm.

Toog was a fine, big male, resembling in many ways Teeka’s mate, Taug.

Each was in his prime, and each was wonderfully muscled, perfectly

fanged and as horrifyingly ferocious as the most exacting and

particular she could wish. Had Toog been of her own tribe, Teeka might

as readily have yielded to him as to Taug when her mating time arrived;

but now she was Taug’s and no other male could claim her without first

defeating Taug in personal combat. And even then Teeka retained some

rights in the matter. If she did not favor a corespondent, she could

enter the lists with her rightful mate and do her part toward

discouraging his advances, a part, too, which would prove no mean

assistance to her lord and master, for Teeka, even though her fangs

were smaller than a male’s, could use them to excellent effect.

Just now Teeka was occupied in a fascinating search for beetles, to the

exclusion of all else. She did not realize how far she and Gazan had

become separated from the balance of the tribe, nor were her defensive

senses upon the alert as they should have been. Months of immunity from

danger under the protecting watchfulness of the sentries, which Tarzan

had taught the tribe to post, had lulled them all into a sense of

peaceful security based on that fallacy which has wrecked many

enlightened communities in the past and will continue to wreck others

in the future—that because they have not been attacked they never will

be.

Toog, having satisfied himself that only the she and her balu were in

the immediate vicinity, crept stealthily forward. Teeka’s back was

toward him when he finally rushed upon her; but her senses were at last

awakened to the presence of danger and she wheeled to face the strange

bull just before he reached her. Toog halted a few paces from her. His

anger had fled before the seductive feminine charms of the stranger. He

made conciliatory noises—a species of clucking sound with his broad,

flat lips—that were, too, not greatly dissimilar to that which might be

produced in an osculatory solo.

But Teeka only bared her fangs and growled. Little Gazan started to run

toward his mother, but she warned him away with a quick “Kreeg-ah!”

telling him to run high into a tall tree. Evidently Teeka was not

favorably impressed by her new suitor. Toog realized this and altered

his methods accordingly. He swelled his giant chest, beat upon it with

his calloused knuckles and swaggered to and fro before her.

“I am Toog,” he boasted. “Look at my fighting fangs. Look at my great

arms and my mighty legs. With one bite I can slay your biggest bull.

Alone have I slain Sheeta. I am Toog. Toog wants you.” Then he waited

for the effect, nor did he have long to wait. Teeka turned with a

swiftness which belied her great weight and bolted in the opposite

direction. Toog, with an angry growl, leaped in pursuit; but the

smaller, lighter female was too fleet for him. He chased her for a few

yards and then, foaming and barking, he halted and beat upon the ground

with his hard fists.

From the tree above him little Gazan looked down and witnessed the

stranger bull’s discomfiture. Being young, and thinking himself safe

above the reach of the heavy male, Gazan screamed an ill-timed insult

at their tormentor. Toog looked up. Teeka had halted at a little

distance—she would not go far from her balu; that Toog quickly realized

and as quickly determined to take advantage of. He saw that the tree in

which the young ape squatted was isolated and that Gazan could not

reach another without coming to earth. He would obtain the mother

through her love for her young.

He swung himself into the lower branches of the tree. Little Gazan

ceased to insult him; his expression of deviltry changed to one of

apprehension, which was quickly followed by fear as Toog commenced to

ascend toward him. Teeka screamed to Gazan to climb higher, and the

little fellow scampered upward among the tiny branches which would not

support the weight of the great bull; but nevertheless Toog kept on

climbing. Teeka was not fearful. She knew that he could not ascend far

enough to reach Gazan, so she sat at a little distance from the tree

and applied jungle opprobrium to him. Being a female, she was a past

master of the art.

But she did not know the malevolent cunning of Toog’s little brain. She

took it for granted that the bull would climb as high as he could

toward Gazan and then, finding that he could not reach him, resume his

pursuit of her, which she knew would prove equally fruitless. So sure

was she of the safety of her balu and her own ability to take care of

herself that she did not voice the cry for help which would soon have

brought the other members of the tribe flocking to her side.

Toog slowly reached the limit to which he dared risk his great weight

to the slender branches. Gazan was still fifteen feet above him. The

bull braced himself and seized the main branch in his powerful hands,

then he commenced shaking it vigorously. Teeka was appalled. Instantly

she realized what the bull purposed. Gazan clung far out upon a swaying

limb. At the first shake he lost his balance, though he did not quite

fall, clinging still with his four hands; but Toog redoubled his

efforts; the shaking produced a violent snapping of the limb to which

the young ape clung. Teeka saw all too plainly what the outcome must be

and forgetting her own danger in the depth of her mother love, rushed

forward to ascend the tree and give battle to the fearsome creature

that menaced the life of her little one.

But before ever she reached the bole, Toog had succeeded, by violent

shaking of the branch, to loosen Gazan’s hold. With a cry the little

fellow plunged down through the foliage, clutching futilely for a new

hold, and alighted with a sickening thud at his mother’s feet, where he

lay silent and motionless. Moaning, Teeka stooped to lift the still

form in her arms; but at the same instant Toog was upon her.

Struggling and biting she fought to free herself; but the giant muscles

of the great bull were too much for her lesser strength. Toog struck

and choked her repeatedly until finally, half unconscious, she lapsed

into quasi submission. Then the bull lifted her to his shoulder and

turned back to the trail toward the south from whence he had come.

Upon the ground lay the quiet form of little Gazan. He did not moan. He

did not move. The sun rose slowly toward meridian. A mangy thing,

lifting its nose to scent the jungle breeze, crept through the

underbrush. It was Dango, the hyena. Presently its ugly muzzle broke

through some near-by foliage and its cruel eyes fastened upon Gazan.

Early that morning, Tarzan of the Apes had gone to the cabin by the

sea, where he passed many an hour at such times as the tribe was

ranging in the vicinity. On the floor lay the skeleton of a man—all

that remained of the former Lord Greystoke—lay as it had fallen some

twenty years before when Kerchak, the great ape, had thrown it,

lifeless, there. Long since had the termites and the small rodents

picked clean the sturdy English bones. For years Tarzan had seen it

lying there, giving it no more attention than he gave the countless

thousand bones that strewed his jungle haunts. On the bed another,

smaller, skeleton reposed and the youth ignored it as he ignored the

other. How could he know that the one had been his father, the other

his mother? The little pile of bones in the rude cradle, fashioned with

such loving care by the former Lord Greystoke, meant nothing to

him—that one day that little skull was to help prove his right to a

proud title was as far beyond his ken as the satellites of the suns of

Orion. To Tarzan they were bones—just bones. He did not need them, for

there was no meat left upon them, and they were not in his way, for he

knew no necessity for a bed, and the skeleton upon the floor he easily

could step over.

Today he was restless. He turned the pages first of one book and then

of another. He glanced at pictures which he knew by heart, and tossed

the books aside. He rummaged for the thousandth time in the cupboard.

He took out a bag which contained several small, round pieces of metal.

He had played with them many times in the years gone by; but always he

replaced them carefully in the bag, and the bag in the cupboard, upon

the very shelf where first he had discovered it. In strange ways did

heredity manifest itself in the ape-man. Come of an orderly race, he

himself was orderly without knowing why. The apes dropped things

wherever their interest in them waned—in the tall grass or from the

high-flung branches of the trees. What they dropped they sometimes

found again, by accident; but not so the ways of Tarzan. For his few

belongings he had a place and scrupulously he returned each thing to

its proper place when he was done with it. The round pieces of metal in

the little bag always interested him. Raised pictures were upon either

side, the meaning of which he did not quite understand. The pieces were

bright and shiny. It amused him to arrange them in various figures upon

the table. Hundreds of times had he played thus. Today, while so

engaged, he dropped a lovely yellow piece—an English sovereign—which

rolled beneath the bed where lay all that was mortal of the once

beautiful Lady Alice.

True to form, Tarzan at once dropped to his hands and knees and

searched beneath the bed for the lost gold piece. Strange as it might

appear, he had never before looked beneath the bed. He found the gold

piece, and something else he found, too—a small wooden box with a loose

cover. Bringing them both out he returned the sovereign to its bag and

the bag to its shelf within the cupboard; then he investigated the box.

It contained a quantity of cylindrical bits of metal, cone-shaped at

one end and flat at the other, with a projecting rim. They were all

quite green and dull, coated with years of verdigris.

Tarzan removed a handful of them from the box and examined them. He

rubbed one upon another and discovered that the green came off, leaving

a shiny surface for two-thirds of their length and a dull gray over the

cone-shaped end. Finding a bit of wood he rubbed one of the cylinders

rapidly and was rewarded by a lustrous sheen which pleased him.

At his side hung a pocket pouch taken from the body of one of the

numerous black warriors he had slain. Into this pouch he put a handful

of the new playthings, thinking to polish them at his leisure; then he

replaced the box beneath the bed, and finding nothing more to amuse

him, left the cabin and started back in the direction of the tribe.

Shortly before he reached them he heard a great commotion ahead of

him—the loud screams of shes and balus, the savage, angry barking and

growling of the great bulls. Instantly he increased his speed, for the

“Kreeg-ahs” that came to his ears warned him that something was amiss

with his fellows.

While Tarzan had been occupied with his own devices in the cabin of his

dead sire, Taug, Teeka’s mighty mate, had been hunting a mile to the

north of the tribe. At last, his belly filled, he had turned lazily

back toward the clearing where he had last seen the tribe and presently

commenced passing its members scattered alone or in twos or threes.

Nowhere did he see Teeka or Gazan, and soon he began inquiring of the

other apes where they might be; but none had seen them recently.

Now the lower orders are not highly imaginative. They do not, as you

and I, paint vivid mental pictures of things which might have occurred,

and so Taug did not now apprehend that any misfortune had overtaken his

mate and their offspring—he merely knew that he wished to find Teeka

that he might lie down in the shade and have her scratch his back while

his breakfast digested; but though he called to her and searched for

her and asked each whom he met, he could find no trace of Teeka, nor of

Gazan either.

He was beginning to become peeved and had about made up his mind to

chastise Teeka for wandering so far afield when he wanted her. He was

moving south along a game trail, his calloused soles and knuckles

giving forth no sound, when he came upon Dango at the opposite side of

a small clearing. The eater of carrion did not see Taug, for all his

eyes were for something which lay in the grass beneath a tree—something

upon which he was sneaking with the cautious stealth of his breed.

Taug, always cautious himself, as it behooves one to be who fares up

and down the jungle and desires to survive, swung noiselessly into a

tree, where he could have a better view of the clearing. He did not

fear Dango; but he wanted to see what it was that Dango stalked. In a

way, possibly, he was actuated as much by curiosity as by caution.

And when Taug reached a place in the branches from which he could have

an unobstructed view of the clearing he saw Dango already sniffing at

something directly beneath him—something which Taug instantly

recognized as the lifeless form of his little Gazan.

With a cry so frightful, so bestial, that it momentarily paralyzed the

startled Dango, the great ape launched his mighty bulk upon the

surprised hyena. With a cry and a snarl, Dango, crushed to earth,

turned to tear at his assailant; but as effectively might a sparrow

turn upon a hawk. Taug’s great, gnarled fingers closed upon the hyena’s

throat and back, his jaws snapped once on the mangy neck, crushing the

vertebrae, and then he hurled the dead body contemptuously aside.

Again he raised his voice in the call of the bull ape to its mate, but

there was no reply; then he leaned down to sniff at the body of Gazan.

In the breast of this savage, hideous beast there beat a heart which

was moved, however slightly, by the same emotions of paternal love

which affect us. Even had we no actual evidence of this, we must know

it still, since only thus might be explained the survival of the human

race in which the jealousy and selfishness of the bulls would, in the

earliest stages of the race, have wiped out the young as rapidly as

they were brought into the world had not God implanted in the savage

bosom that paternal love which evidences itself most strongly in the

protective instinct of the male.

In Taug the protective instinct was not alone highly developed; but

affection for his offspring as well, for Taug was an unusually

intelligent specimen of these great, manlike apes which the natives of

the Gobi speak of in whispers; but which no white man ever had seen,

or, if seeing, lived to tell of until Tarzan of the Apes came among

them.

And so Taug felt sorrow as any other father might feel sorrow at the

loss of a little child. To you little Gazan might have seemed a hideous

and repulsive creature, but to Taug and Teeka he was as beautiful and

as cute as is your little Mary or Johnnie or Elizabeth Ann to you, and

he was their first-born, their only balu, and a he—three things which

might make a young ape the apple of any fond father’s eye.

For a moment Taug sniffed at the quiet little form. With his muzzle and

his tongue he smoothed and caressed the rumpled coat. From his savage

lips broke a low moan; but quickly upon the heels of sorrow came the

overmastering desire for revenge.

Leaping to his feet he screamed out a volley of “Kreeg-ahs,” punctuated

from time to time by the blood-freezing cry of an angry, challenging

bull—a rage-mad bull with the blood lust strong upon him.

Answering his cries came the cries of the tribe as they swung through

the trees toward him. It was these that Tarzan heard on his return from

his cabin, and in reply to them he raised his own voice and hurried

forward with increased speed until he fairly flew through the middle

terraces of the forest.

When at last he came upon the tribe he saw their members gathered about

Taug and something which lay quietly upon the ground. Dropping among

them, Tarzan approached the center of the group. Taug was still roaring

out his challenges; but when he saw Tarzan he ceased and stooping

picked up Gazan in his arms and held him out for Tarzan to see. Of all

the bulls of the tribe, Taug held affection for Tarzan only. Tarzan he

trusted and looked up to as one wiser and more cunning. To Tarzan he

came now—to the playmate of his balu days, the companion of innumerable

battles of his maturity.

When Tarzan saw the still form in Taug’s arms, a low growl broke from

his lips, for he too loved Teeka’s little balu.

“Who did it?” he asked. “Where is Teeka?”

“I do not know,” replied Taug. “I found him lying here with Dango about

to feed upon him; but it was not Dango that did it—there are no fang

marks upon him.”

Tarzan came closer and placed an ear against Gazan’s breast. “He is not

dead,” he said. “Maybe he will not die.” He pressed through the crowd

of apes and circled once about them, examining the ground step by step.

Suddenly he stopped and placing his nose close to the earth sniffed.

Then he sprang to his feet, giving a peculiar cry. Taug and the others

pressed forward, for the sound told them that the hunter had found the

spoor of his quarry.

“A stranger bull has been here,” said Tarzan. “It was he that hurt

Gazan. He has carried off Teeka.”

Taug and the other bulls commenced to roar and threaten; but they did

nothing. Had the stranger bull been within sight they would have torn

him to pieces; but it did not occur to them to follow him.

“If the three bulls had been watching around the tribe this would not

have happened,” said Tarzan. “Such things will happen as long as you do

not keep the three bulls watching for an enemy. The jungle is full of

enemies, and yet you let your shes and your balus feed where they will,

alone and unprotected. Tarzan goes now—he goes to find Teeka and bring

her back to the tribe.”

The idea appealed to the other bulls. “We will all go,” they cried.

“No,” said Tarzan, “you will not all go. We cannot take shes and balus

when we go out to hunt and fight. You must remain to guard them or you

will lose them all.”

They scratched their heads. The wisdom of his advice was dawning upon

them, but at first they had been carried away by the new idea—the idea

of following up an enemy offender to wrest his prize from him and

punish him. The community instinct was ingrained in their characters

through ages of custom. They did not know why they had not thought to

pursue and punish the offender—they could not know that it was because

they had as yet not reached a mental plane which would permit them to

work as individuals. In times of stress, the community instinct sent

them huddling into a compact herd where the great bulls, by the weight

of their combined strength and ferocity, could best protect them from

an enemy. The idea of separating to do battle with a foe had not yet

occurred to them—it was too foreign to custom, too inimical to

community interests; but to Tarzan it was the first and most natural

thought. His senses told him that there was but a single bull connected

with the attack upon Teeka and Gazan. A single enemy did not require

the entire tribe for his punishment. Two swift bulls could quickly

overhaul him and rescue Teeka.

In the past no one ever had thought to go forth in search of the shes

that were occasionally stolen from the tribe. If Numa, Sabor, Sheeta or

a wandering bull ape from another tribe chanced to carry off a maid or

a matron while no one was looking, that was the end of it—she was gone,

that was all. The bereaved husband, if the victim chanced to have been

mated, growled around for a day or two and then, if he were strong

enough, took another mate within the tribe, and if not, wandered far

into the jungle on the chance of stealing one from another community.

In the past Tarzan of the Apes had condoned this practice for the

reason that he had had no interest in those who had been stolen; but

Teeka had been his first love and Teeka’s balu held a place in his

heart such as a balu of his own would have held. Just once before had

Tarzan wished to follow and revenge. That had been years before when

Kulonga, the son of Mbonga, the chief, had slain Kala. Then,

single-handed, Tarzan had pursued and avenged. Now, though to a lesser

degree, he was moved by the same passion.

He turned toward Taug. “Leave Gazan with Mumga,” he said. “She is old

and her fangs are broken and she is no good; but she can take care of

Gazan until we return with Teeka, and if Gazan is dead when we come

back,” he turned to address Mumga, “I will kill you, too.”

“Where are we going?” asked Taug.

“We are going to get Teeka,” replied the ape-man, “and kill the bull

who has stolen her. Come!”

He turned again to the spoor of the stranger bull, which showed plainly

to his trained senses, nor did he glance back to note if Taug followed.

The latter laid Gazan in Mumga’s arms with a parting: “If he dies

Tarzan will kill you,” and he followed after the brown-skinned figure

that already was moving at a slow trot along the jungle trail.

No other bull of the tribe of Kerchak was so good a trailer as Tarzan,

for his trained senses were aided by a high order of intelligence. His

judgment told him the natural trail for a quarry to follow, so that he

need but note the most apparent marks upon the way, and today the trail

of Toog was as plain to him as type upon a printed page to you or me.

Following close behind the lithe figure of the ape-man came the huge

and shaggy bull ape. No words passed between them. They moved as

silently as two shadows among the myriad shadows of the forest. Alert

as his eyes and ears, was Tarzan’s patrician nose. The spoor was fresh,

and now that they had passed from the range of the strong ape odor of

the tribe he had little difficulty in following Toog and Teeka by scent

alone. Teeka’s familiar scent spoor told both Tarzan and Taug that they

were upon her trail, and soon the scent of Toog became as familiar as

the other.

They were progressing rapidly when suddenly dense clouds overcast the

sun. Tarzan accelerated his pace. Now he fairly flew along the jungle

trail, or, where Toog had taken to the trees, followed nimbly as a

squirrel along the bending, undulating pathway of the foliaged branches,

swinging from tree to tree as Toog had swung before them; but more

rapidly because they were not handicapped by a burden such as Toog’s.

Tarzan felt that they must be almost upon the quarry, for the scent

spoor was becoming stronger and stronger, when the jungle was suddenly

shot by livid lightning, and a deafening roar of thunder reverberated

through the heavens and the forest until the earth trembled and shook.

Then came the rain—not as it comes to us of the temperate zones, but as

a mighty avalanche of water—a deluge which spills tons instead of drops

upon the bending forest giants and the terrified creatures which haunt

their shade.

And the rain did what Tarzan knew that it would do—it wiped the spoor

of the quarry from the face of the earth. For a half hour the torrents

fell—then the sun burst forth, jeweling the forest with a million

scintillant gems; but today the ape-man, usually alert to the changing

wonders of the jungle, saw them not. Only the fact that the spoor of

Teeka and her abductor was obliterated found lodgment in his thoughts.

Even among the branches of the trees there are well-worn trails, just

as there are trails upon the surface of the ground; but in the trees

they branch and cross more often, since the way is more open than among

the dense undergrowth at the surface. Along one of these well-marked

trails Tarzan and Taug continued after the rain had ceased, because the

ape-man knew that this was the most logical path for the thief to

follow; but when they came to a fork, they were at a loss. Here they

halted, while Tarzan examined every branch and leaf which might have

been touched by the fleeing ape.

He sniffed the bole of the tree, and with his keen eyes he sought to

find upon the bark some sign of the way the quarry had taken. It was

slow work and all the time, Tarzan knew, the bull of the alien tribe

was forging steadily away from them—gaining precious minutes that might

carry him to safety before they could catch up with him.

First along one fork he went, and then another, applying every test

that his wonderful junglecraft was cognizant of; but again and again he

was baffled, for the scent had been washed away by the heavy downpour,

in every exposed place. For a half hour Tarzan and Taug searched, until

at last, upon the bottom of a broad leaf, Tarzan’s keen nose caught the

faint trace of the scent spoor of Toog, where the leaf had brushed a

hairy shoulder as the great ape passed through the foliage.

Once again the two took up the trail, but it was slow work now and

there were many discouraging delays when the spoor seemed lost beyond

recovery. To you or me there would have been no spoor, even before the

coming of the rain, except, possibly, where Toog had come to earth and

followed a game trail. In such places the imprint of a huge handlike

foot and the knuckles of one great hand were sometimes plain enough for

an ordinary mortal to read. Tarzan knew from these and other

indications that the ape was yet carrying Teeka. The depth of the

imprint of his feet indicated a much greater weight than that of any of

the larger bulls, for they were made under the combined weight of Toog

and Teeka, while the fact that the knuckles of but one hand touched the

ground at any time showed that the other hand was occupied in some

other business—the business of holding the prisoner to a hairy

shoulder. Tarzan could follow, in sheltered places, the changing of the

burden from one shoulder to another, as indicated by the deepening of

the foot imprint upon the side of the load, and the changing of the

knuckle imprints from one side of the trail to the other.

There were stretches along the surface paths where the ape had gone for

considerable distances entirely erect upon his hind feet—walking as a

man walks; but the same might have been true of any of the great

anthropoids of the same species, for, unlike the chimpanzee and the

gorilla, they walk without the aid of their hands quite as readily as

with. It was such things, however, which helped to identify to Tarzan

and to Taug the appearance of the abductor, and with his individual

scent characteristic already indelibly impressed upon their memories,

they were in a far better position to know him when they came upon him,

even should he have disposed of Teeka before, than is a modern sleuth

with his photographs and Bertillon measurements, equipped to recognize

a fugitive from civilized justice.

But with all their high-strung and delicately attuned perceptive

faculties the two bulls of the tribe of Kerchak were often sore pressed

to follow the trail at all, and at best were so delayed that in the

afternoon of the second day, they still had not overhauled the

fugitive. The scent was now strong, for it had been made since the

rain, and Tarzan knew that it would not be long before they came upon

the thief and his loot. Above them, as they crept stealthily forward,

chattered Manu, the monkey, and his thousand fellows; squawked and

screamed the brazen-throated birds of plumage; buzzed and hummed the

countless insects amid the rustling of the forest leaves, and, as they

passed, a little gray-beard, squeaking and scolding upon a swaying

branch, looked down and saw them. Instantly the scolding and the squeaking

ceased, and off tore the long-tailed mite as though Sheeta, the

panther, had been endowed with wings and was in close pursuit of him.

To all appearances he was only a very much frightened little monkey,

fleeing for his life—there seemed nothing sinister about him.

And what of Teeka during all this time? Was she at last resigned to her

fate and accompanying her new mate in the proper humility of a loving

and tractable spouse? A single glance at the pair would have answered

these questions to the utter satisfaction of the most captious. She was

torn and bleeding from many wounds, inflicted by the sullen Toog in his

vain efforts to subdue her to his will, and Toog too was disfigured and

mutilated; but with stubborn ferocity, he still clung to his now

useless prize.

On through the jungle he forced his way in the direction of the

stamping ground of his tribe. He hoped that his king would have

forgotten his treason; but if not he was still resigned to his fate—any

fate would be better than suffering longer the sole companionship of

this frightful she, and then, too, he wished to exhibit his captive to

his fellows. Maybe he could wish her on the king—it is possible that

such a thought urged him on.

At last they came upon two bulls feeding in a parklike grove—a

beautiful grove dotted with huge boulders half embedded in the rich

loam—mute monuments, possibly, to a forgotten age when mighty glaciers

rolled their slow course where now a torrid sun beats down upon a

tropic jungle.

The two bulls looked up, baring long fighting fangs, as Toog appeared

in the distance. The latter recognized the two as friends. “It is

Toog,” he growled. “Toog has come back with a new she.”

The apes waited his nearer approach. Teeka turned a snarling, fanged

face toward them. She was not pretty to look upon, yet through the

blood and hatred upon her countenance they realized that she was

beautiful, and they envied Toog—alas! they did not know Teeka.

As they squatted looking at one another there raced through the trees

toward them a long-tailed little monkey with gray whiskers. He was a

very excited little monkey when he came to a halt upon the limb of a

tree directly overhead.

“Two strange bulls come,” he cried. “One is a

Mangani, the other a hideous ape without hair upon his body. They

follow the spoor of Toog. I saw them.”

The four apes turned their eyes backward along the trail Toog had just

come; then they looked at one another for a minute. “Come,” said the

larger of Toog’s two friends, “we will wait for the strangers in the

thick bushes beyond the clearing.”

He turned and waddled away across the open place, the others following

him. The little monkey danced about, all excitement. His chief

diversion in life was to bring about bloody encounters between the

larger denizens of the forest, that he might sit in the safety of the

trees and witness the spectacles. He was a glutton for gore, was this

little, whiskered, gray monkey, so long as it was the gore of others—a

typical fight fan was the graybeard.

The apes hid themselves in the shrubbery beside the trail along which

the two stranger bulls would pass. Teeka trembled with excitement. She

had heard the words of Manu, and she knew that the hairless ape must be

Tarzan, while the other was, doubtless, Taug. Never, in her wildest

hopes, had she expected succor of this sort. Her one thought had been

to escape and find her way back to the tribe of Kerchak; but even this

had appeared to her practically impossible, so closely did Toog watch

her.

As Taug and Tarzan reached the grove where Toog had come upon his

friends, the ape scent became so strong that both knew the quarry was

but a short distance ahead. And so they went even more cautiously, for

they wished to come upon the thief from behind if they could and charge

him before he was aware of their presence. That a little gray-whiskered

monkey had forestalled them they did not know, nor that three pairs of

savage eyes were already watching their every move and waiting for them

to come within reach of itching paws and slavering jowls.

On they came across the grove, and as they entered the path leading

into the dense jungle beyond, a sudden “Kreeg-ah!” shrilled out close

before them—a “Kreeg-ah” in the familiar voice of Teeka. The small

brains of Toog and his companions had not been able to foresee that

Teeka might betray them, and now that she had, they went wild with

rage. Toog struck the she a mighty blow that felled her, and then the

three rushed forth to do battle with Tarzan and Taug. The little monkey

danced upon his perch and screamed with delight.

And indeed he might well be delighted, for it was a lovely fight. There

were no preliminaries, no formalities, no introductions—the five bulls

merely charged and clinched. They rolled in the narrow trail and into

the thick verdure beside it. They bit and clawed and scratched and

struck, and all the while they kept up the most frightful chorus of

growlings and barkings and roarings. In five minutes they were torn and

bleeding, and the little graybeard leaped high, shrilling his primitive

bravos; but always his attitude was “thumbs down.” He wanted to see

something killed. He did not care whether it were friend or foe. It was

blood he wanted—blood and death.

Taug had been set upon by Toog and another of the apes, while Tarzan

had the third—a huge brute with the strength of a buffalo. Never before

had Tarzan’s assailant beheld so strange a creature as this slippery,

hairless bull with which he battled. Sweat and blood covered Tarzan’s

sleek, brown hide. Again and again he slipped from the clutches of the

great bull, and all the while he struggled to free his hunting knife

from the scabbard in which it had stuck.

At length he succeeded—a brown hand shot out and clutched a hairy

throat, another flew upward clutching the sharp blade. Three swift,

powerful strokes and the bull relaxed with a groan, falling limp

beneath his antagonist. Instantly Tarzan broke from the clutches of the

dying bull and sprang to Taug’s assistance. Toog saw him coming and

wheeled to meet him. In the impact of the charge, Tarzan’s knife was

wrenched from his hand and then Toog closed with him. Now was the

battle even—two against two—while on the verge, Teeka, now recovered

from the blow that had felled her, slunk waiting for an opportunity to

aid. She saw Tarzan’s knife and picked it up. She never had used it,

but knew how Tarzan used it. Always had she been afraid of the thing

which dealt death to the mightiest of the jungle people with the ease

that Tantor’s great tusks deal death to Tantor’s enemies.

She saw Tarzan’s pocket pouch torn from his side, and with the

curiosity of an ape, that even danger and excitement cannot entirely

dispel, she picked this up, too.

Now the bulls were standing—the clinches had been broken. Blood

streamed down their sides—their faces were crimsoned with it. Little

graybeard was so fascinated that at last he had even forgotten to

scream and dance; but sat rigid with delight in the enjoyment of the

spectacle.

Back across the grove Tarzan and Taug forced their adversaries. Teeka

followed slowly. She scarce knew what to do. She was lame and sore and

exhausted from the frightful ordeal through which she had passed, and

she had the confidence of her sex in the prowess of her mate and the

other bull of her tribe—they would not need the help of a she in their

battle with these two strangers.

The roars and screams of the fighters reverberated through the jungle,

awakening the echoes in the distant hills. From the throat of Tarzan’s

antagonist had come a score of “Kreeg-ahs!” and now from behind came

the reply he had awaited. Into the grove, barking and growling, came a

score of huge bull apes—the fighting men of Toog’s tribe.

Teeka saw them first and screamed a warning to Tarzan and Taug. Then

she fled past the fighters toward the opposite side of the clearing,

fear for a moment claiming her. Nor can one censure her after the

frightful ordeal from which she was still suffering.

Down upon them came the great apes. In a moment Tarzan and Taug would

be torn to shreds that would later form the _pièce de résistance_ of

the savage orgy of a Dum-Dum. Teeka turned to glance back. She saw the

impending fate of her defenders and there sprang to life in her savage

bosom the spark of martyrdom, that some common forbear had transmitted

alike to Teeka, the wild ape, and the glorious women of a higher order

who have invited death for their men. With a shrill scream she ran

toward the battlers who were rolling in a great mass at the foot of one

of the huge boulders which dotted the grove; but what could she do? The

knife she held she could not use to advantage because of her lesser

strength. She had seen Tarzan throw missiles, and she had learned this

with many other things from her childhood playmate. She sought for

something to throw and at last her fingers touched upon the hard

objects in the pouch that had been torn from the ape-man. Tearing the

receptacle open, she gathered a handful of shiny cylinders—heavy for

their size, they seemed to her, and good missiles. With all her

strength she hurled them at the apes battling in front of the granite

boulder.

The result surprised Teeka quite as much as it did the apes. There was

a loud explosion, which deafened the fighters, and a puff of acrid

smoke. Never before had one there heard such a frightful noise.

Screaming with terror, the stranger bulls leaped to their feet and fled

back toward the stamping ground of their tribe, while Taug and Tarzan

slowly gathered themselves together and arose, lame and bleeding, to

their feet. They, too, would have fled had they not seen Teeka standing

there before them, the knife and the pocket pouch in her hands.

“What was it?” asked Tarzan.

Teeka shook her head. “I hurled these at the stranger bulls,” and she

held forth another handful of the shiny metal cylinders with the dull

gray, cone-shaped ends.

Tarzan looked at them and scratched his head.

“What are they?” asked Taug.

“I do not know,” said Tarzan. “I found them.”

The little monkey with the gray beard halted among the trees a mile

away and huddled, terrified, against a branch. He did not know that the

dead father of Tarzan of the Apes, reaching back out of the past across

a span of twenty years, had saved his son’s life.

Nor did Tarzan, Lord Greystoke, know it either.