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Volume 7023


Part Nine
Read Along with Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.
Does anyone remember what happened to the 100 gold ingots from the Oparian gold vault?  The Waziri buried them in Tarzan’s estate, but did anyone dig them up since then?  I can’t remember and if you can more power to you.  Perhaps this and many other things will become more clear in the pages to come.  Let’s find out.

XVII: The Deadly Peril of Jane Clayton

Lieutenant Albert Werper, terrified by contemplation of the fate which might await him at Adis Abeba, cast about for some scheme of escape, but after the black Mugambi had eluded their vigilance the Abyssinians redoubled their precautions to prevent Werper following the lead of the negro.

For some time Werper entertained the idea of bribing Abdul Mourak with a portion of the contents of the pouch; but fearing that the man would demand all the gems as the price of liberty, the Belgian, influenced by avarice, sought another avenue from his dilemma.

It was then that there dawned upon him the possibility of the success of a different course which would still leave him in possession of the jewels, while at the same time satisfying the greed of the Abyssinian with the conviction that he had obtained all that Werper had to offer.

And so it was that a day or so after Mugambi had disappeared, Werper asked for an audience with Abdul Mourak.  As the Belgian entered the presence of his captor the scowl upon the features of the latter boded ill for any hope which Werper might entertain, still he fortified himself by recalling the common weakness of mankind, which permits the most inflexible of natures to bend to the consuming desire for wealth.

 Abdul Mourak eyed him, frowningly.  “What do you want now?” he asked.

“My liberty,” replied Werper.

Abdul Mourak laughed loudly.  “Pay for it?” he cried.  “What with – the rags that you have upon your back?  Or, perhaps you are concealing beneath your coat a thousand pounds of ivory.  Get out!  You are a fool.  Do not bother me again or I shall have you whipped.”

But Werper persisted.  His liberty and perhaps his life depended upon his success.

“Listen to me,” he pleaded.  “If I can give you as much gold as ten men may carry will you promise that I shall be conducted in safety to the nearest English commissioner?”

“As much gold as ten men can carry?” repeated Abdul Mourak.  “You are crazy.  Where have you so much gold as that?”

“I know where it is hid,” said Werper.  “Promise, and I will lead you to it – if ten loads is enough?”

Abdul Mourak had ceased to laugh.  He was eyeing the Belgian intently.  The fellow seemed sane enough – yet ten loads of gold!  It was preposterous.  The Abyssinian thought in silence for a moment.

“Well, and if I promise,” he said.  “How far is this gold?’ “A long week’s march to the south,” replied Werper.

“And if we do not find it where you say it is, do you realize what your punishment will be?”

“If it is not there I will forfeit my life,” replied the Belgian.  “I know it is there, for I saw it buried with my own eyes.  And more – there are not only ten loads, but as many as fifty men may carry.  It is all yours if you will promise to see me safely delivered into the protection of the English.”

“You will stake your life against the finding of the gold?” asked Abdul.

Werper assented with a nod.

“Very well,” said the Abyssinian.  “I promise, and even if there be but five loads you shall have your freedom; but until the gold is in my possession, you remain a prisoner.’
“I am satisfied,” said Werper.  “Tomorrow we start?”

Abdul Mourak nodded, and the Belgian returned to his guards.  The following day the Abyssinian soldiers were surprised to receive an order which turned their faces from the northeast to the south.  And so it happened that upon the very night that Tarzan and the two apes entered the village of the raiders, the Abyssinians camped but a few miles to the east of the same spot.

While Werper dreamed of freedom and the unmolested enjoyment of the fortune in his stolen pouch, and Abdul Mourak lay awake in greedy contemplation of the fifty loads of gold which lay but a few days farther to the south of him, Achmet Zek gave orders to his lieutenants that they should prepare a force of fighting men and carriers to proceed to the ruins of the Englishman’s douar on the morrow and bring back the fabulous fortune which his renegade lieutenant had told him was buried there.

And as he delivered his instructions to those within, a silent listener crouched without his tent, waiting for the time when he might enter in safety and prosecute his search for the missing pouch and the pretty pebbles that had caught his fancy.

At last the swarthy companions of Achmet Zek quitted his tent, and the leader went with them to smoke a pipe with one of their number, leaving his own silken habitation unguarded. Scarcely had they left the interior when a knife blade was thrust through the fabric of the rear wall, some six feet above the ground, and a swift downward stroke opened an entrance to those who waited beyond.

Through the opening stepped the ape-man, and close behind him came the huge Chulk; but Taglat did not follow them.  Instead he turned and slunk through the darkness toward the hut where the she who had arrested his brutish interest lay securely bound.  Before the doorway the sentries sat upon their haunches, conversing in monotones.  Within, the young woman lay upon a filthy sleeping mat, resigned, through utter hopelessness to whatever fate lay in store for her until the opportunity arrived which would permit her to free herself by the only means which now seemed even remotely possible – the hitherto detested act of self-destruction.

Creeping silently toward the sentries, a white-burnoosed figure approached the shadows at one end of the hut.  The meager intellect of the creature denied it the advantage it might have taken of its disguise.  Where it could have walked boldly to the very sides of the sentries, it chose rather to sneak upon them, unseen from the rear.

It came to the corner of the hut and peered around.  The sentries were but a few paces away; but the ape did not dare expose himself, even for an instant, to those feared and hated thunder-sticks which the Tarmangani knew so well how to use, if there were another and safer method of attack.

Taglat wished that there was a tree nearby from the overhanging branches of which he might spring upon his unsuspecting prey; but, though there was no tree, the idea gave birth to a plan.  The eaves of the hut were just above the heads of the sentries – from them he could leap upon the Tarmangani, unseen.  A quick snap of those mighty jaws would dispose of one of them before the other realized that they were attacked, and the second would fall an easy prey to the strength, agility and ferocity of a second quick charge.

Taglat withdrew a few paces to the rear of the hut, gathered himself for the effort, ran quickly forward and leaped high into the air.  He struck the roof directly above the rear wall of the hut, and the structure, reinforced by the wall beneath, held his enormous weight for an instant, then he moved forward a step, the roof sagged, the thatching parted and the great anthropoid shot through into the interior.

The sentries, hearing the crashing of the roof poles, leaped to their feet and rushed into the hut.  Jane Clayton tried to roll aside as the great form lit upon the floor so close to her that one foot pinned her clothing to the ground.

The ape, feeling the movement beside him, reached down and gathered the girl in the hollow of one mighty arm.  The burnoose covered the hairy body so that Jane Clayton believed that a human arm supported her, and from the extremity of hopelessness a great hope sprang into her breast that at last she was in the keeping of a rescuer.

Is Taglat going to succeed where Terkoz failed?  The idea of a woman being raped by an ape was always disturbing to ERB’s readers.  But they always sought adventure, and adventure is what they got – in spades.
The two sentries were now within the hut, but hesitating because of doubt as to the nature of the cause of the disturbance.  Their eyes, not yet accustomed to the darkness of the interior, told them nothing, nor did they hear any sound, for the ape stood silently awaiting their attack.

Seeing that they stood without advancing, and realizing that, handicapped as he was by the weight of the she, he could put up but a poor battle.  Taglat elected to risk a sudden break for liberty.  Lowering his head, he charged straight for the two sentries who blocked the doorway. The impact of his mighty shoulders bowled them over upon their backs, and before they could scramble to their feet, the ape was gone, darting in the shadows of the huts toward the palisade at the far end of the village.

The speed and strength of her rescuer filled Jane Clayton with wonder.  Could it be that Tarzan had survived the bullet of the Arab?  Who else in all the jungle could bear the weight of a grown woman as lightly as he who held her?  She spoke his name; but there was no response.

Still she did not give up hope.

At the palisade the beast did not even hesitate.  A single mighy leap carried it to the top, where it poised but for an instant before dropping to the ground upon the opposite side.  Now the girl was almost positive that she was safe in the arms of her husband, and when the ape took to the trees and bore her swiftly into the jungle, as Tarzan had done at other times in the past, belief became conviction.

In a little moonlit glade, a mile or so from the camp of the raiders, her rescuer halted and dropped her to the ground.  His roughness surprised her, but still she had no doubts.  Again she called him by name, and at the same instant the ape, fretting under the restraints of the unaccustomed garments of the Tarmangani, tore the burnoose from him, revealing to the eyes of the terror-struck woman the hideous face and hairy form of a giant anthropoid.

With a piteous wail of terror, Jane Clayton swooned, while, from the concealment of a nearby bush, Numa, the lion, eyed the pair hungrily and licked his chops.

Tarzan, entering the tent of Achmet Zek, searched the interior thoroughly.  He tore the bed to pieces and scattered the contents of box and bag about the floor.  He investigated whatever his eyes discovered, nor did those keen organs overlook a single article within the habitation of the raider chief; but no pouch or pretty pebbles rewarded his thoroughness.

Satisfied at last that his belongings were not in the possession of Achmet Zek, unless they were on the person of the chief himself.  Tarzan decided to secure the person of the she before further prosecuting his search for the pouch.

Motioning for Chulk to follow him, he passed out of the tent by the same way he had entered it, and walking boldly through the village, made directly for the hut where Jane Clayton had been imprisoned.

He noted with surprise the absence of Taglat, whom he had expected to find awaiting him outside the tent of Achmet Zek; but, accustomed as he was to the unreliability of apes, he gave no serious attention to the present defection of his surly companion.  So long as Taglat did not cause interference with his plans, Tarzan was indifferent to his absence.

As he approached the hut, the ape-man noticed that a crowd had collected about the entrance.  He could see that the men who composed it were much excited, and fearing lest Chulk’s disguise should prove inadequate to the concealment of his true identity in the face of many observers, he commanded the ape to betake himself to the far end of the village, and there await him.

As Chulk waddled off, keeping to the shadows, Tarzan advanced boldly toward the excited group before the doorway of the hut.  He mingled with the blacks and the Arabs in an endeavor to learn the cause of the commotion, in his interest forgetting that he alone of the assemblage carried a spear, a bow and arrows, and thus might become an object of suspicious attention.

Shouldering his way through the crowd he approached the doorway, and had almost reached it when one of the Arabs laid a hand upon his shoulder, crying: “Who is this?” at the same time snatching back the hood from the ape-man’s face.

Tarzan of the Apes in all his savage life had never been accustomed to pause in argument with an antagonist.  The primitive instinct of self-preservation acknowledges many arts and wiles; but argument is not one of them, nor did he now waste precious time in an attempt to convince the raiders that he was not a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  Instead he had his unmasker by the throat ere the man’s words had scarce quitted his lips, and hurling him from side to side brushed away those who would have swarmed upon him.
Using the Arab as a weapon, Tarzan forced his way quickly to the doorway, and a moment later was within the hut.  A hasty examination revealed the fact that it was empty, and his sense of smell discovered, too, the scent spoor of Taglat, the ape.  Tarzan uttered a low, ominous growl.  Those who were pressing forward at the doorway to seize him, fell back as the savage notes of the bestial challenge smote upon their ears.  They looked at one another in surprise and consternation.  A man had entered the hut alone, and yet with their own ears they had heard the voice of a wild beast within.  What could it mean?  Had a lion or leopard sought sanctuary in the interior, unbeknown to the sentries?

Tarzan’s quick eyes discovered the opening in the roof, through which Taglat had fallen. He guessed that the ape had either come or gone by way of the break, and while the Arabs hesitated without, he sprang, catlike, for the opening, grasped the top of the wall and clambered out upon the roof, dropping instantly to the ground at the rear of the hut.

When the Arabs finally mustered courage to enter the hut, after firing several volleys through the walls, they found the interior deserted.  At the same time Tarzan, at the far end of the village, sought for Chulk; but the ape was nowhere to be found.

Robbed of his she, deserted by his accomplices, and as much in ignorance as ever as to the whereabouts of his pouch and pebbles, it was an angry Tarzan who climbed the palisade and vanished into the darkness of the jungle.

For the present he must give up the search for his pouch, since it would be paramount to self-destruction to enter the Arab camp now while all its inhabitants were aroused and upon the alert.

In his escape from the village, the ape-man had lost the spoor of the fleeing Taglat, and now he circled widely through the forest in an endeavor to again pick it up.

Chulk had remained at his post until the cries and shots of the Arabs had filled his simple soul with terror, for above all things the ape folk fear the thunder-sticks of the Tarmangani; then he had clambered nimbly over the palisade, tearing his burnoose in the effort, and fled into the depths of the jungle, grumbling and scolding as he went.

Tarzan, roaming the jungle in search of the trail of Taglat and the she, traveled swiftly.  In a little moonlit glade ahead of him the great ape was bending over the prostrate form of the woman Tarzan sought.  The beast was tearing at the bonds that confined her ankles and wrists, pulling and gnawing upon the cords.

The course the ape-man was taking would carry him but a short distance to the right of them, and though he could not have seen them the wind was bearing down from them to him, carrying their scent spoor strongly toward him.

A moment more and Jane Clayton’s safety might have been assured, even though Numa, the lion, was already gathering himself in preparation of a charge; but Fate, already all too cruel, now outdid herself – the wind veered suddenly for a few moments, the scent spoor that would have led the ape-man to the girl’s side was wafted in the opposite direction; Tarzan passed within fifty yards of the tragedy that was being enacted in the glade, and the opportunity was gone beyond recall.

I love the way that ERB always plays the role of God and Fate in his novels.  But unlike the sadist, G.R.R. Martin, he never allows horrible things to happen to his favorite characters. He may bring them to their wit’s end, but in the end the love of his characters always provides the hope and grace they need to survive.  So, what’s next?

XVIII: The Fight for the Treasure

It was morning before Tarzan could bring himself to a realization of the possibility of failure in his quest, and even then he would only admit that success was but delayed.  He would eat and sleep, and then set forth again.  The jungle was wide; but wide too were the experience and cunning of Tarzan.  Taglat might travel far; but Tarzan would find him in the end, though he had to search every tree in the mighty forest.

Soliloquizing thus, the ape-man followed the spoor of Bara, the deer, the unfortunate upon which he had decided to satisfy his hunger.  For half an hour the trail led the ape-man toward the east along a well-marked game path, when suddenly, to the stalker’s astonishment, the quarry broke into sight, racing madly back along the narrow way straight toward the hunter.

Tarzan, who had been following along the trail, leaped so quickly to the concealing verdure at the side that the deer was still unaware of the presence of an enemy in this direction, and while the animal was still some distance away, the ape-man swung into the lower branches of a tree which overhung the trail.  There he crouched, a savage beast of prey, awaiting the coming of his victim.

What had frightened the deer into so frantic a retreat, Tarzan did not know – Numa, the lion, perhaps, or Sheeta, the panther; but whatsoever it was mattered little to Tarzan of the Apes – he was ready and willing to defend his kill against any other denizen of the jungle.  If he were unable to do it by means of physical prowess, he had at his command another and greater power – his shrewd intelligence.

And so, on came the running deer, straight into the jaws of death.  The ape-man turned so that his back was toward the approaching animal.  He poised with bent knees upon the gently swaying limb above the trail, timing with keen ears the nearing hoof beats of a frightened Bara.

In a moment the victim flashed beneath the limb and at the same instant the ape-man above sprang out and down upon his back.  The weight of the man’s body carried the deer to the ground.  It stumbled forward once in a futile effort to rise, and then the mighty muscles dragged its head far back, gave the neck a vicious wrench, and Bara was dead.

Quick had been the killing, and equally quick were the ape-man’s subsequent actions, for who might know what manner of killer pursued Bara, or how close at hand he might be?  Scarce had the neck of the victim snapped than the carcass was hanging over one of Tarzan’s broad shoulders, and an instant later the ape-man was perched once more among the lower branches of a tree above the trail, his keen, gray eyes scanning the pathway down which the deer had fled.

Nor was it long before the cause of Bara’s fright became evident to Tarzan, for presently came the unmistakable sounds of approaching horsemen.  Dragging his kill after him the apeman ascended to the middle terrace, and settling himself comfortably in the crotch of a tree where he could still view the trail beneath, cut a juicy steak from the deer’s loin, and burying his strong, white teeth in the hot flesh proceeded to enjoy the fruits of his prowess and his cunning.

Nor did he neglect the trail beneath while he satisfied his hunger.  His sharp eyes saw the muzzle of the leading horse as it came into view around a bend in the tortuous trail, and one by one they scrutinized the riders as they passed beneath him in single file.

Among them came one whom Tarzan recognized, but so schooled was the ape-man in the control of his emotions that no slightest change of expression, much less any hysterical demonstration that might have revealed his presence, betrayed the fact of his inward excitement.

Beneath him, as unconscious of his presence as were the Abyssinians before and behind him, rode Albert Werper, while the ape-man scrutinized the Belgian for some sign of the pouch which he had stolen.

As the Abyssinians rode toward the south, a giant figure hovered ever upon their trail – a huge, almost naked white man, who carried the bloody carcass of a deer upon his shoulders, for Tarzan knew that he might not have another opportunity to hunt for some time if he were to follow the Belgian.

To endeavor to snatch him from the midst of the armed horsemen, not even Tarzan would attempt other than in the last extremity, for the way of the wild is the way of caution and cunning, unless they be aroused to rashness by pain or anger.

So the Abyssinians and the Belgian marched southward and Tarzan of the Apes swung silently after them through the swaying branches of the middle terrace.

A two days’ march brought them to a level plain beyond which lay mountains – a plain which Tarzan remembered and which aroused within him vague, half memories and strange longings.  Out upon the plain the horsemen rode, and at a safe distance behind them crept the ape-man, taking advantage of such cover as the ground afforded.

Beside a charred pile of timbers the Abyssinians halted, and Tarzan, sneaking close and concealing himself in nearby shrubbery, watched them in wonderment.  He saw them digging up the earth, and he wondered if they had hidden meat there in the past and now had come for it. Then he recalled how he had buried his pretty pebbles, and the suggestion that had caused him to do it.  They were digging for the things the blacks had buried there!

Presently he saw them uncover a dirty, yellow object, and he witnessed the joy of Werper and of Abdul Marouk as the grimy object was exposed to view.  One by one they unearthed many similar pieces, all of the same uniform, dirty yellow, until a pile of them lay upon the ground, a pile which Abdul Marouk fondled and petted in an ecstasy of greed.

Something stirred in the ape-man’s mind as he looked long upon the golden ingots. Where had he seen such before?  What were they?  Why did these Tarmangani covet them so greatly?  To whom did they belong?

He recalled the black men who had buried them.  The things must be theirs.  Werper was stealing them as he had stolen Tarzan’s pouch of pebbles.  The ape-man’s eyes blazed in anger. He would like to find the black men and lead them against these thieves.  He wondered where there village might be.

As all these things ran through the active mind, a party of men moved out of the forest at the edge of the plain and advanced toward the ruins of the burned bungalow.

Abdul Marouk, always watchful, was the first to see them, but already they were halfway across the open.  He called to his men to mount and hold themselves in readiness, for in the heart of Africa who may know whether a strange host be friend or foe?

Werper, swinging into his saddle, fastened his eyes upon the newcomers, then, white and trembling he turned toward Abdul Marouk.

“It is Achmet Zek and his raiders,” he whispered.  “They are come for the gold.”

It must have been at about the same instant that Achmet Zek discovered the pile of yellow ingots and realized the actuality of what he had already feared since first his eyes alighted upon the party beside the ruins of the Englishman’s bungalow.  Someone had forestalled him – another had come for the treasure ahead of him.

ERB loved to set up these kind of scenarios, but we knew it was coming because of the title of this chapter.  A battle between two equally bad men is a treat that he just couldn’t walk away from.  And neither can we.
The Arab was crazed by rage.  Recently everything had gone against him.  He had lost the jewels, the Belgian, and for the second time he had lost the Englishwoman.  Now someone had come to rob him of this treasure which he had thought safe from disturbance here as though it had never been mined.

He cared not whom the thieves might be.  They would not give up the gold without a battle, of that he was certain, and with a wild whoop and a command to his followers, Achmet Zek put spurs to his horse and dashed down upon the Abyssinians, and after him, waving their long guns above their heads, yelling and cursing, came his motley horde of cut-throat followers.

The men of Abdul Marouk met them with a volley which emptied a few saddles, and then the raiders were among them, and sword, pistol and musket, each was doing its most hideous and bloody work.

Achmet Zek, spying Werper at the first charge, bore down upon the Belgian, and the latter, terrified by contemplation of the fate he deserved, turned his horse’s head and dashed madly away in an effort to escape.  Shouting to a lieutenant to take command, and urging him upon pain of death to dispatch the Abyssinians and bring the gold back to his camp, Achmet Zek set off across the plain in pursuit of the Belgian, his wicked nature unable to forego the pleasures of revenge, even at the risk of sacrificing the treasure.

As the pursued and the pursuer raced madly toward the distant forest the battle behind them raged with bloody savageness.  No quarter was asked or given by either the ferocious Abyssinians or the murderous cut-throats of Achmet Zek.

From the concealment of the shrubbery Tarzan watched the sanguinary conflict which so effectually surrounded him that he found no loop-hole through which he might escape to follow Werper and the Arab chief.

The Abyssinians were formed in a circle which included Tarzan’s position, and around and into them galloped the yelling raiders, now darting away, now charging in to deliver thrusts and cuts with their curved swords.

Numerically the men of Achmet Zek were superior, and slowly but surely the soldiers of Menelek were being exterminated.  To Tarzan the result was immaterial.  He watched with but a single purpose – to escape the ring of blood-mad fighters and be away after the Belgian and his pouch.

When he had first discovered Werper upon the trail where he had slain Bara, he had thought that his eyes must be playing him false, so certain had he been that the thief had been slain and devoured by Numa; but after following the detachment for two days, with his keen eyes always upon the Belgian, he no longer doubted the identity of the man, though he was put to it to explain the identity of the mutilated corpse he had supposed was the man he sought.

As he crouched in hiding among the unkempt shrubbery which so short a while since had been the delight and pride of the wife he no longer recalled, an Arab and an Abyssinian wheeled their mounts close to his position as they slashed at each other with their swords.

Step by step the Arab beat back his adversary until the latter’s horse all but trod upon the ape-man, and then a vicious cut clove the black warrior’s skull, and the corpse toppled backward almost upon Tarzan.

As the Abyssinian tumbled from his saddle the possibility of escape which was represented by the riderless horse electrified the ape-man to instant action.  Before the frightened beast could gather himself for flight a naked giant was astride his back.  A strong hand had grasped his bridle rein, and the surprised Arab discovered a new foe in the saddle of him, whom he had slain.

But this enemy wielded no sword, and his spear and bow remained upon his back.  The Arab, recovered from his first surprise, dashed in with raised sword to annihilate this presumptuous stranger.  He aimed a mighty blow at the ape-man’s head, a blow which swung harmlessly through thin air as Tarzan ducked from its path, and then the Arab felt the other’s horse brushing his leg, a great arm shot out and encircled his waist, and before he could recover himself he was dragged from his saddle, and forming a shield for his antagonist was borne at a mad run straight through the encircling ranks of his fellows.

Just beyond them he was tossed aside upon the ground, and the last he saw of his strange foeman the latter was galloping off across the plain in the direction of the forest at its farther edge.

For another hour the battle raged nor did it cease until that last of the Abyssinians lay dead upon the ground, or had galloped off toward the north in flight.  But a handful of men escaped, among them Abdul Marouk.

The victorious raiders collected about the pile of golden ingots which the Abyssinians had uncovered, and there awaited the return of their leader.  Their exultation was slightly tempered by the glimpse they had had of the strange apparition of the naked white man galloping away upon the horse of one of their foemen and carrying a companion who was now among them expatiating upon the superhuman strength of the ape-man.  None of them there but was familiar with the name and fame of Tarzan of the Apes, and the fact that they had recognized the white giant as the ferocious enemy of the wrongdoers of the jungle, added to their terror, for they had been assured that Tarzan was dead.

That was quite a battle, wasn’t it?  ERB was famous for writing riveting action scenes, and his books are really nothing but a series of action events, one after another in rapid succession, like a Spielberg/Lucas Indiana Jones movie.  Well, let’s get back to the victory celebration of our cut-throat raiders.
Naturally superstitious, they fully believed that they had seen the disembodied spirit of the dead man, and now they cast fearful glances about them in expectation of the ghost’s early return to the scene of the ruin that had inflicted upon him during their recent raid upon his home, and discussed in affrighted whispers the probable nature of the vengeance which the spirit would inflict upon them should he return to find them in possession of his gold.

As they conversed their terror grew, while from the concealment of the reeds along the river below them a small party of naked, black warriors watched their every move.  From the heights beyond the river these black men had heard the noise of the conflict, and creeping warily down to the stream had forded it and advanced through the reeds until they were in a position to watch every move of the combatants.

For a half hour the raiders awaited Achmet Zek’s return, their fear of the earlier return of the ghost of Tarzan constantly undermining their loyalty to and fear of their chief.  Finally one among them voiced the desires of all when he announced that he intended riding forth toward the forest in search of Achmet Zek.  Instantly, every man of them sprang to his mount.

“The gold will be safe here,” cried one.  “We have killed the Abyssinians and there are no others to carry it away.  Let us ride in search of Achmet Zek!”
And a moment later, amidst a cloud of dust, the raiders were galloping madly across the plain, and out from the concealment of the reeds along the river, crept a party of black warriors toward the spot where the golden ingots of Opar lay piled on the ground.

Werper had still been in advance of Achmet Zek when he reached the forest; but the latter, better mounted, was gaining upon him.  Riding with reckless courage of desperation the Belgian urged his mount to greater speed even within the narrow confines of the winding, game trail that the beast was following.

Behind him he could hear the voice of Achmet Zek crying to him to halt; but Werper only dug the spurs deeper into the bleeding sides of his panting mount.  Two hundred yards within the forest a broken branch lay across the trail.  It was a small thing that a horse might ordinarily take in his natural stride without noticing its presence; but Werper’s horse was jaded, his feet were heavy with weariness, and as the branch caught between his front legs he stumbled, was unable to recover himself, and went down, sprawling in the trail.

Werper, going over his head rolled a few yards farther on, scrambled to his feet and ran back.  Seizing the reins he tugged to drag the beast to his feet; but the animal would not or could not rise, and as the Belgian cursed and struck at him, Achmet Zek appeared in view.

Instantly the Belgian ceased his efforts with the dying animal at his feet, and seizing his rifle, dropped behind the horse and fired at the oncoming Arab.

His bullet, going low, struck Achmet Zek’s horse in the breast, bringing him down a hundred yards from where Werper lay preparing to fire a second shot.

The Arab, who had gone down with his mount, was standing astride him, and seeing the Belgian’s strategic position behind his fallen horse, lost no time in taking up a similar one behind his own.

And there the two lay, alternately firing at and cursing each other, while from behind the Arab, Tarzan of the Apes approached to the edge of the forest.  Here he heard the occasional shots of the duelists, and choosing the safer and swifter avenue of the forest branches to the uncertain transportation afforded by a half-broken Abyssinian pony, took to the trees.

Keeping to one side of the trail, the ape-man came presently to a point where he could look down in comparative safety upon the fighters.  First one and then the other would partially raise himself above the breastworks of horseflesh, fire his weapon and immediately drop flat behind his shelter, where he would reload and repeat the act a moment later.

Werper had but little ammunition, having been hastily armed by Abdul Marouk from the body of one of the first of the Abyssinians who had fallen in the fight about the pile of ingots, and now he realized that soon he would have used his last bullet, and be at the mercy of the Arab – a mercy with which he was well acquainted.

Facing both death and despoilment of his treasure, the Belgian cast about for some plan of escape, and the only one that appealed to him as containing even a remote possibility of success hinged upon the chance of bribing Achmet Zek.

Werper had fired all but a single cartridge, when, during a lull in the fighting, he called aloud to his opponent.

“Achmet Zek,” he cried, “Allah alone knows which one of us may leave our bones to rot where he lies upon this trail today if we keep up our foolish battle.  You wish the contents of the pouch I wear about my waist, and I wish my life and my liberty even more than I do the jewels. Let us each, then, take that which he most desires and go our separate ways in peace.  I will lay the pouch upon the carcass of my horse, where you may see it, and you, in turn will lay your gun upon your horse, with butt toward me.  Then I will go away, leaving the pouch to you, and you will let me go in safety.  I want only my life, and my freedom.”

The Arab thought in silence for a moment.  Then he spoke.  His reply was influenced by the fact that he had expended his last shot.

“Go your way, then,” he growled, “leaving the pouch in plain sight behind you.  See, I lay my gun thus, with the butt toward you.  Go.”

Werper removed the pouch from about his waist.  Sorrowfully and affectionately he let his fingers press the hard outlines of the contents.  Ah, if he could but extract a little handful of the precious stones!  But Achmet Zek was standing now, his eagle eyes commanding a plain view of the Belgian and his every act.

Regretfully Werper laid the pouch, its contents undisturbed, upon the body of his horse, rose, and taking his rifle with him, backed slowly down the trail until a turn hid him from the view of the watchful Arab.

Even then Achmet Zek did not advance, fearful as he was of some such treachery as he himself might have been guilty of under like circustances; nor were his suspicions groundles, for the Belgian, no sooner had he passed out of the range of the Arab’s vision, halted behind the bole of a tree, where he still commanded an unobstructed view of his dead horse and the pouch, and raising his rifle covered the spot where the other’s body must appear when he came forward to seize the treasure.

But Achmet Zek was no fool to expose himself to the blackened honor of a thief and a murderer.  Taking his long gun with him, he left the trail, entering the rank and tangled vegetation which walled it, and crawling slowly forward on hands and knees he paralleled the trail; but never for an instant was his body exposed to the rifle of the hidden assassin.

Thus Achmet Zek advanced until he had come opposite the dead horse of his enemy.  The pouch lay there in full view, while a short distance along the trail, Werper waited in growing impatience and nervousness, wondering why the Arab did not come to claim his reward.

Presently he saw the muzzle of a rifle appear suddenly and mysteriously a few inches above the pouch, and before he could realize the cunning trick that the Arab had played upon him the sight of the weapon was adroitly hooked in his rawhide thong which formed the carrying strap of the pouch, and the latter was drawn quickly from his view into the dense foliage at the trail’s side.

Not for an instant had the raider exposed a square inch of his body, and Werper dared not fire his one remaining shot unless every chance of a successful hit was in his favor.

Chuckling to himself, Achmet Zek withdrew a few paces farther into the jungle, for he was as positive that Werper was waiting nearby for a chance to pot him as though his eyes had penetrated the jungle trees to the figure of the hiding Belgian, fingering his rifle behind the bole of the buttressed giant.

Werper did not dare advance – his cupidity would not permit him to depart, and so he stood there, his rifle ready in his hands, his eyes watching the trail before him with cat-like intensity.

But there was another who had seen the pouch and recognized it, who did advance with Achmet Zek, hovering above him, as silent and as sure as death itself, and as the Arab, finding a little spot less overgrown with bushes than he had yet encountered, prepared to gloat his eyes upon the contents of the pouch, Tarzan paused directly above him, intent upon the same object.

Wetting his thin lips with his tongue, Achmet Zek loosened the tie strings which closed the mouth of the pouch, and cupping one claw-like hand poured forth a portion of the contents into his palm.

A single look he took at the stones lying in his hand.  His eyes narrowed, a curse broke forth from his lips, and he hurled the small objects upon the ground, disdainfully.  Quickly he emptied the balance of the contents until he had scanned each separate stone, and as he dumped them all upon the ground and stamped upon them his rage grew until the muscles of his face worked in demon-like fury, and his fingers clenched until his nails bit into the flesh.

Above, Tarzan watched in wonderment.  He had been curious to discover what all the pow-wow about his pouch had meant.  He wanted to see what the Arab would do after the other had gone away, leaving the pouch behind him, and, having satisfied his curiosity, he would then have pounced upon Achmet Zek and taken the pouch and his pretty pebbles away from him, for did they not belong to Tarzan?

He saw the Arab now throw aside the empty pouch, and grasping his long gun by the barrel, clublike, sneak stealthily through the jungle beside the trail along which Werper had gone.

As the man disappeared from his view, Tarzan dropped to the ground and commenced gathering up the spilled contents of the pouch, and the moment that he obtained his first near view of the scattered pebbles he understood the rage of the Arab, for instead of the glittering and scintillating gems which had first caught and held the attention of the ape-man, the pouch had now contained but a collection of ordinary river pebbles.

All right, how many of you saw that coming?  I think we would be right to deduce that Mugambi had something to do with this.  But at least we are beginning to understand the role the jewels take in the telling of this tale.  See you for the next chapter, which is called, “Jane Clayton and the Beasts of the Jungle.”  Oh, boy, more of Jane.


Read Along with Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.
ERBzine 7021
Ch. 1
ERBzine 7021a
Ch. 2
ERBzine 7021b
Ch. 3
ERBzine 7021c
Ch. 4
ERBzine 7022
Ch. 5
ERBzine 7022a
Ch. 6
ERBzine 7022b
Ch. 7
ERBzine 7022c
Ch. 8
ERBzine 7023
Ch. 9
ERBzine 7023a
Ch. 10
ERBzine 7023b
Ch. 11
ERBzine 7023c
Ch. 12
Read the ERB C.H.A.S.E.R. Bibliography Entry

Read All of the ERB Essays by
Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.

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