第 七 章 · The Light of Knowledge

. The Light of Knowledge

After what seemed an eternity to the little sufferer he was able to

walk once more, and from then on his recovery was so rapid that in

another month he was as strong and active as ever.

During his convalescence he had gone over in his mind many times the

battle with the gorilla, and his first thought was to recover the

wonderful little weapon which had transformed him from a hopelessly

outclassed weakling to the superior of the mighty terror of the jungle.

Also, he was anxious to return to the cabin and continue his

investigations of its wondrous contents.

So, early one morning, he set forth alone upon his quest. After a

little search he located the clean-picked bones of his late adversary,

and close by, partly buried beneath the fallen leaves, he found the

knife, now red with rust from its exposure to the dampness of the

ground and from the dried blood of the gorilla.

He did not like the change in its former bright and gleaming surface;

but it was still a formidable weapon, and one which he meant to use to

advantage whenever the opportunity presented itself. He had in mind

that no more would he run from the wanton attacks of old Tublat.

In another moment he was at the cabin, and after a short time had again

thrown the latch and entered. His first concern was to learn the

mechanism of the lock, and this he did by examining it closely while

the door was open, so that he could learn precisely what caused it to

hold the door, and by what means it released at his touch.

He found that he could close and lock the door from within, and this he

did so that there would be no chance of his being molested while at his

investigation.

He commenced a systematic search of the cabin; but his attention was

soon riveted by the books which seemed to exert a strange and powerful

influence over him, so that he could scarce attend to aught else for

the lure of the wondrous puzzle which their purpose presented to him.

Among the other books were a primer, some child’s readers, numerous

picture books, and a great dictionary. All of these he examined, but

the pictures caught his fancy most, though the strange little bugs

which covered the pages where there were no pictures excited his wonder

and deepest thought.

Squatting upon his haunches on the table top in the cabin his father

had built—his smooth, brown, naked little body bent over the book which

rested in his strong slender hands, and his great shock of long, black

hair falling about his well-shaped head and bright, intelligent

eyes—Tarzan of the apes, little primitive man, presented a picture

filled, at once, with pathos and with promise—an allegorical figure of

the primordial groping through the black night of ignorance toward the

light of learning.

His little face was tense in study, for he had partially grasped, in a

hazy, nebulous way, the rudiments of a thought which was destined to

prove the key and the solution to the puzzling problem of the strange

little bugs.

In his hands was a primer opened at a picture of a little ape similar

to himself, but covered, except for hands and face, with strange,

colored fur, for such he thought the jacket and trousers to be. Beneath

the picture were three little bugs—

BOY.

And now he had discovered in the text upon the page that these three

were repeated many times in the same sequence.

Another fact he learned—that there were comparatively few individual

bugs; but these were repeated many times, occasionally alone, but more

often in company with others.

Slowly he turned the pages, scanning the pictures and the text for a

repetition of the combination _b-o-y_. Presently he found it beneath a

picture of another little ape and a strange animal which went upon four

legs like the jackal and resembled him not a little. Beneath this

picture the bugs appeared as:

A BOY AND A DOG

There they were, the three little bugs which always accompanied the

little ape.

And so he progressed very, very slowly, for it was a hard and laborious

task which he had set himself without knowing it—a task which might

seem to you or me impossible—learning to read without having the

slightest knowledge of letters or written language, or the faintest

idea that such things existed.

He did not accomplish it in a day, or in a week, or in a month, or in a

year; but slowly, very slowly, he learned after he had grasped the

possibilities which lay in those little bugs, so that by the time he

was fifteen he knew the various combinations of letters which stood for

every pictured figure in the little primer and in one or two of the

picture books.

Of the meaning and use of the articles and conjunctions, verbs and

adverbs and pronouns he had but the faintest conception.

One day when he was about twelve he found a number of lead pencils in a

hitherto undiscovered drawer beneath the table, and in scratching upon

the table top with one of them he was delighted to discover the black

line it left behind it.

He worked so assiduously with this new toy that the table top was soon

a mass of scrawly loops and irregular lines and his pencil-point worn

down to the wood. Then he took another pencil, but this time he had a

definite object in view.

He would attempt to reproduce some of the little bugs that scrambled

over the pages of his books.

It was a difficult task, for he held the pencil as one would grasp the

hilt of a dagger, which does not add greatly to ease in writing or to

the legibility of the results.

But he persevered for months, at such times as he was able to come to

the cabin, until at last by repeated experimenting he found a position

in which to hold the pencil that best permitted him to guide and

control it, so that at last he could roughly reproduce any of the

little bugs.

Thus he made a beginning of writing.

Copying the bugs taught him another thing—their number; and though he

could not count as we understand it, yet he had an idea of quantity,

the base of his calculations being the number of fingers upon one of

his hands.

His search through the various books convinced him that he had

discovered all the different kinds of bugs most often repeated in

combination, and these he arranged in proper order with great ease

because of the frequency with which he had perused the fascinating

alphabet picture book.

His education progressed; but his greatest finds were in the

inexhaustible storehouse of the huge illustrated dictionary, for he

learned more through the medium of pictures than text, even after he

had grasped the significance of the bugs.

When he discovered the arrangement of words in alphabetical order he

delighted in searching for and finding the combinations with which he

was familiar, and the words which followed them, their definitions, led

him still further into the mazes of erudition.

By the time he was seventeen he had learned to read the simple, child’s

primer and had fully realized the true and wonderful purpose of the

little bugs.

No longer did he feel shame for his hairless body or his human

features, for now his reason told him that he was of a different race

from his wild and hairy companions. He was a M-A-N, they were A-P-E-S,

and the little apes which scurried through the forest top were

M-O-N-K-E-Y-S. He knew, too, that old Sabor was a L-I-O-N-E-S-S, and

Histah a S-N-A-K-E, and Tantor an E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T. And so he learned to

read. From then on his progress was rapid. With the help of the great

dictionary and the active intelligence of a healthy mind endowed by

inheritance with more than ordinary reasoning powers he shrewdly

guessed at much which he could not really understand, and more often

than not his guesses were close to the mark of truth.

There were many breaks in his education, caused by the migratory habits

of his tribe, but even when removed from his books his active brain

continued to search out the mysteries of his fascinating avocation.

Pieces of bark and flat leaves and even smooth stretches of bare earth

provided him with copy books whereon to scratch with the point of his

hunting knife the lessons he was learning.

Nor did he neglect the sterner duties of life while following the bent

of his inclination toward the solving of the mystery of his library.

He practiced with his rope and played with his sharp knife, which he

had learned to keep keen by whetting upon flat stones.

The tribe had grown larger since Tarzan had come among them, for under

the leadership of Kerchak they had been able to frighten the other

tribes from their part of the jungle so that they had plenty to eat and

little or no loss from predatory incursions of neighbors.

Hence the younger males as they became adult found it more comfortable

to take mates from their own tribe, or if they captured one of another

tribe to bring her back to Kerchak’s band and live in amity with him

rather than attempt to set up new establishments of their own, or fight

with the redoubtable Kerchak for supremacy at home.

Occasionally one more ferocious than his fellows would attempt this

latter alternative, but none had come yet who could wrest the palm of

victory from the fierce and brutal ape.

Tarzan held a peculiar position in the tribe. They seemed to consider

him one of them and yet in some way different. The older males either

ignored him entirely or else hated him so vindictively that but for his

wondrous agility and speed and the fierce protection of the huge Kala

he would have been dispatched at an early age.

Tublat was his most consistent enemy, but it was through Tublat that,

when he was about thirteen, the persecution of his enemies suddenly

ceased and he was left severely alone, except on the occasions when one

of them ran amuck in the throes of one of those strange, wild fits of

insane rage which attacks the males of many of the fiercer animals of

the jungle. Then none was safe.

On the day that Tarzan established his right to respect, the tribe was

gathered about a small natural amphitheater which the jungle had left

free from its entangling vines and creepers in a hollow among some low

hills.

The open space was almost circular in shape. Upon every hand rose the

mighty giants of the untouched forest, with the matted undergrowth

banked so closely between the huge trunks that the only opening into

the little, level arena was through the upper branches of the trees.

Here, safe from interruption, the tribe often gathered. In the center

of the amphitheater was one of those strange earthen drums which the

anthropoids build for the queer rites the sounds of which men have

heard in the fastnesses of the jungle, but which none has ever

witnessed.

Many travelers have seen the drums of the great apes, and some have

heard the sounds of their beating and the noise of the wild, weird

revelry of these first lords of the jungle, but Tarzan, Lord Greystoke,

is, doubtless, the only human being who ever joined in the fierce, mad,

intoxicating revel of the Dum-Dum.

From this primitive function has arisen, unquestionably, all the forms

and ceremonials of modern church and state, for through all the

countless ages, back beyond the uttermost ramparts of a dawning

humanity our fierce, hairy forebears danced out the rites of the

Dum-Dum to the sound of their earthen drums, beneath the bright light

of a tropical moon in the depth of a mighty jungle which stands

unchanged today as it stood on that long forgotten night in the dim,

unthinkable vistas of the long dead past when our first shaggy ancestor

swung from a swaying bough and dropped lightly upon the soft turf of

the first meeting place.

On the day that Tarzan won his emancipation from the persecution that

had followed him remorselessly for twelve of his thirteen years of

life, the tribe, now a full hundred strong, trooped silently through

the lower terrace of the jungle trees and dropped noiselessly upon the

floor of the amphitheater.

The rites of the Dum-Dum marked important events in the life of the

tribe—a victory, the capture of a prisoner, the killing of some large

fierce denizen of the jungle, the death or accession of a king, and

were conducted with set ceremonialism.

Today it was the killing of a giant ape, a member of another tribe, and

as the people of Kerchak entered the arena two mighty bulls were seen

bearing the body of the vanquished between them.

They laid their burden before the earthen drum and then squatted there

beside it as guards, while the other members of the community curled

themselves in grassy nooks to sleep until the rising moon should give

the signal for the commencement of their savage orgy.

For hours absolute quiet reigned in the little clearing, except as it

was broken by the discordant notes of brilliantly feathered parrots, or

the screeching and twittering of the thousand jungle birds flitting

ceaselessly amongst the vivid orchids and flamboyant blossoms which

festooned the myriad, moss-covered branches of the forest kings.

At length as darkness settled upon the jungle the apes commenced to

bestir themselves, and soon they formed a great circle about the

earthen drum. The females and young squatted in a thin line at the

outer periphery of the circle, while just in front of them ranged the

adult males. Before the drum sat three old females, each armed with a

knotted branch fifteen or eighteen inches in length.

Slowly and softly they began tapping upon the resounding surface of the

drum as the first faint rays of the ascending moon silvered the

encircling tree tops.

As the light in the amphitheater increased the females augmented the

frequency and force of their blows until presently a wild, rhythmic din

pervaded the great jungle for miles in every direction. Huge, fierce

brutes stopped in their hunting, with up-pricked ears and raised heads,

to listen to the dull booming that betokened the Dum-Dum of the apes.

Occasionally one would raise his shrill scream or thunderous roar in

answering challenge to the savage din of the anthropoids, but none came

near to investigate or attack, for the great apes, assembled in all the

power of their numbers, filled the breasts of their jungle neighbors

with deep respect.

As the din of the drum rose to almost deafening volume Kerchak sprang

into the open space between the squatting males and the drummers.

Standing erect he threw his head far back and looking full into the eye

of the rising moon he beat upon his breast with his great hairy paws

and emitted his fearful roaring shriek.

Once—twice—thrice that terrifying cry rang out across the teeming

solitude of that unspeakably quick, yet unthinkably dead, world.

Then, crouching, Kerchak slunk noiselessly around the open circle,

veering far away from the dead body lying before the altar-drum, but,

as he passed, keeping his little, fierce, wicked, red eyes upon the

corpse.

Another male then sprang into the arena, and, repeating the horrid

cries of his king, followed stealthily in his wake. Another and another

followed in quick succession until the jungle reverberated with the now

almost ceaseless notes of their bloodthirsty screams.

It was the challenge and the hunt.

When all the adult males had joined in the thin line of circling

dancers the attack commenced.

Kerchak, seizing a huge club from the pile which lay at hand for the

purpose, rushed furiously upon the dead ape, dealing the corpse a

terrific blow, at the same time emitting the growls and snarls of

combat. The din of the drum was now increased, as well as the frequency

of the blows, and the warriors, as each approached the victim of the

hunt and delivered his bludgeon blow, joined in the mad whirl of the

Death Dance.

Tarzan was one of the wild, leaping horde. His brown, sweat-streaked,

muscular body, glistening in the moonlight, shone supple and graceful

among the uncouth, awkward, hairy brutes about him.

None was more stealthy in the mimic hunt, none more ferocious than he

in the wild ferocity of the attack, none who leaped so high into the

air in the Dance of Death.

As the noise and rapidity of the drumbeats increased the dancers

apparently became intoxicated with the wild rhythm and the savage

yells. Their leaps and bounds increased, their bared fangs dripped

saliva, and their lips and breasts were flecked with foam.

For half an hour the weird dance went on, until, at a sign from

Kerchak, the noise of the drums ceased, the female drummers scampering

hurriedly through the line of dancers toward the outer rim of squatting

spectators. Then, as one, the males rushed headlong upon the thing

which their terrific blows had reduced to a mass of hairy pulp.

Flesh seldom came to their jaws in satisfying quantities, so a fit

finale to their wild revel was a taste of fresh killed meat, and it was

to the purpose of devouring their late enemy that they now turned their

attention.

Great fangs sunk into the carcass tearing away huge hunks, the

mightiest of the apes obtaining the choicest morsels, while the weaker

circled the outer edge of the fighting, snarling pack awaiting their

chance to dodge in and snatch a dropped tidbit or filch a remaining

bone before all was gone.

Tarzan, more than the apes, craved and needed flesh. Descended from a

race of meat eaters, never in his life, he thought, had he once

satisfied his appetite for animal food; and so now his agile little

body wormed its way far into the mass of struggling, rending apes in an

endeavor to obtain a share which his strength would have been unequal

to the task of winning for him.

At his side hung the hunting knife of his unknown father in a sheath

self-fashioned in copy of one he had seen among the pictures of his

treasure-books.

At last he reached the fast disappearing feast and with his sharp knife

slashed off a more generous portion than he had hoped for, an entire

hairy forearm, where it protruded from beneath the feet of the mighty

Kerchak, who was so busily engaged in perpetuating the royal

prerogative of gluttony that he failed to note the act of

_lèse-majesté_.

So little Tarzan wriggled out from beneath the struggling mass,

clutching his grisly prize close to his breast.

Among those circling futilely the outskirts of the banqueters was old

Tublat. He had been among the first at the feast, but had retreated

with a goodly share to eat in quiet, and was now forcing his way back

for more.

So it was that he spied Tarzan as the boy emerged from the clawing,

pushing throng with that hairy forearm hugged firmly to his body.

Tublat’s little, close-set, bloodshot, pig-eyes shot wicked gleams of

hate as they fell upon the object of his loathing. In them, too, was

greed for the toothsome dainty the boy carried.

But Tarzan saw his arch enemy as quickly, and divining what the great

beast would do he leaped nimbly away toward the females and the young,

hoping to hide himself among them. Tublat, however, was close upon his

heels, so that he had no opportunity to seek a place of concealment,

but saw that he would be put to it to escape at all.

Swiftly he sped toward the surrounding trees and with an agile bound

gained a lower limb with one hand, and then, transferring his burden to

his teeth, he climbed rapidly upward, closely followed by Tublat.

Up, up he went to the waving pinnacle of a lofty monarch of the forest

where his heavy pursuer dared not follow him. There he perched, hurling

taunts and insults at the raging, foaming beast fifty feet below him.

And then Tublat went mad.

With horrifying screams and roars he rushed to the ground, among the

females and young, sinking his great fangs into a dozen tiny necks and

tearing great pieces from the backs and breasts of the females who fell

into his clutches.

In the brilliant moonlight Tarzan witnessed the whole mad carnival of

rage. He saw the females and the young scamper to the safety of the

trees. Then the great bulls in the center of the arena felt the mighty

fangs of their demented fellow, and with one accord they melted into

the black shadows of the overhanging forest.

There was but one in the amphitheater beside Tublat, a belated female

running swiftly toward the tree where Tarzan perched, and close behind

her came the awful Tublat.

It was Kala, and as quickly as Tarzan saw that Tublat was gaining on

her he dropped with the rapidity of a falling stone, from branch to

branch, toward his foster mother.

Now she was beneath the overhanging limbs and close above her crouched

Tarzan, waiting the outcome of the race.

She leaped into the air grasping a low-hanging branch, but almost over

the head of Tublat, so nearly had he distanced her. She should have

been safe now but there was a rending, tearing sound, the branch broke

and precipitated her full upon the head of Tublat, knocking him to the

ground.

Both were up in an instant, but as quick as they had been Tarzan had

been quicker, so that the infuriated bull found himself facing the

man-child who stood between him and Kala.

Nothing could have suited the fierce beast better, and with a roar of

triumph he leaped upon the little Lord Greystoke. But his fangs never

closed in that nut brown flesh.

A muscular hand shot out and grasped the hairy throat, and another

plunged a keen hunting knife a dozen times into the broad breast. Like

lightning the blows fell, and only ceased when Tarzan felt the limp

form crumple beneath him.

As the body rolled to the ground Tarzan of the Apes placed his foot

upon the neck of his lifelong enemy and, raising his eyes to the full

moon, threw back his fierce young head and voiced the wild and terrible

cry of his people.

One by one the tribe swung down from their arboreal retreats and formed

a circle about Tarzan and his vanquished foe. When they had all come

Tarzan turned toward them.

“I am Tarzan,” he cried. “I am a great killer. Let all respect Tarzan

of the Apes and Kala, his mother. There be none among you as mighty as

Tarzan. Let his enemies beware.”

Looking full into the wicked, red eyes of Kerchak, the young Lord

Greystoke beat upon his mighty breast and screamed out once more his

shrill cry of defiance.