The new day dawned cloudy and threatening. The season of rains was
over, but it appeared that a belated storm was gathering above the
lofty peaks through which Tarzan and Valthor were searching for the
elusive valley of Thenar. The chill of night was dissipated by no
kindly warmth of sunlight. The two men shivered as they rose from their
rude beds among the branches of a tree.
"We shall eat later," announced Tarzan, "after a little climbing has
put warmth into our blood."
"If we are lucky enough to find anything to eat," rejoined Valthor.
"Tarzan seldom goes hungry," replied the ape-man. "He will not go
hungry today. When Tarzan is ready to hunt, we shall eat."
Down the box canyon they went until Tarzan found a place where they
might ascend the precipitous side wall; then they toiled upward, the
warrior from Athne confident that each step would be his last as he
clung to the steep face of the canyon wall but too proud to reveal his
fear to the agile ape-man climbing so easily above him. But he did not
fall, and at last the two stood upon the summit of a mighty ridge that
led upward toward lofty peaks.
Valthor's heart was pounding and he was breathing heavily, but Tarzan
showed no sign of exertion. He was about to continue on up the ridge,
when he glanced at his companion and saw his condition; then he
squatted on the ground with a laconic "Rest now"; and Valthor was glad
to rest.
All day they moved toward the northeast. Sometimes it rained a little,
and always it threatened to rain more. A great storm seemed always to
be gathering, yet it never broke during the long day. Tarzan made a
kill before noon, and they ate; but immediately afterward they started
on again. The cold, damp, sunless air offered them no incentive for
tarrying on the way.
It was late in the afternoon when they ascended out of a deep gorge and
stood upon a lofty plateau. In the near foreground were no mountains,
but at a distance lofty peaks were visible dimly through a light
drizzle of rain. Suddenly Valthor voiced an exclamation of elation. "We
have found it!" he cried. "There is Xarator."
Tarzan looked in the direction that the other pointed and saw a mighty,
flat-topped peak in the distance, directly above which low clouds were
reflecting a dull red light. "So that is Xarator!" he remarked. "And
Thenar is directly east of it?"
"Yes," replied Valthor; "which means that Onthar must be just below the
edge of this plateau, almost directly in front of us. Come!"
The two walked quickly over the level, grassy ground for a mile or two
to come at length to the edge of the plateau beyond which, and below
them, stretched a wide valley.
"We are almost at the southern end of Onthar," said Valthor. "There is
Cathne, the city of gold. See it--in the bend of the river at this end
of that forest? It is a rich city but its people are the enemies of my
people."
Through the rain, Tarzan saw a walled city between a forest and a
river. The houses were nearly all white, and there were many domes
of dull yellow. The river, which ran between them and the city, was
spanned by a bridge that was also a dull yellow color in the twilight
of the late afternoon storm. Tarzan saw that the river extended the
full length of the valley, a distance of fourteen or fifteen miles,
being fed by smaller streams coming down out of the mountains.
Also extending the length of the valley was what appeared to be a
well-marked road. Near the center of the valley it branched, one fork
following an affluent of the main stream with which it disappeared into
the mouth of a canyon on the eastern side of the valley. Directly below
them and extending to the northern extremity of Onthar was a level
plain dotted with trees; across the river, a forest stretched from the
farther bank to the steep hills that bounded Onthar on the east and
southeast.
Tarzan's eyes wandered back to the city of Cathne. "Why do you call it
the city of gold?" he asked.
"Do you not see the golden domes and the bridge of gold?" demanded
Valthor.
"Are they covered with gold paint?" inquired Tarzan.
"They are covered with solid gold," replied Valthor. "The gold on some
of the domes is an inch thick, and the bridge is built of solid blocks
of gold."
Tarzan lifted his eyebrows. As he looked down upon this seemingly
deserted and peaceful valley he could not but conjure another
picture--a picture of what it would be if word of these vast riches
were carried to the outside world, bringing the kindly beneficences of
modern civilization and civilized men to Onthar. How the valley would
hum and roar then with the sweet music of mill and factory! What a
gorgeous spectacle would be painted against the African sky by tall
chimneys spouting black smoke to hang like a sable curtain above the
golden domes of Cathne!
"Where do they find their gold?" he asked.
"Their mines lie in the hills directly south of the city," replied
Valthor.
"And where is your country, Thenar?" asked the ape-man.
"Just beyond the hills east of Onthar. Do you see where the river and
the road cut through the forest about five miles above the city? You
can see them entering the hills just beyond the forest."
"Yes," replied Tarzan; "I see."
"The road and the river run through the Pass of the Warriors into the
valley of Thenar; a little northeast of the center of the valley lies
Athne, the city of ivory; there, beyond the pass, is my country."
"How far are we from Athne?" inquired Tarzan.
"About twenty-five miles, possibly a little less," replied Valthor.
"We might as well start now, then," suggested the ape-man, "for in
this rain it will be more comfortable to be on the march than to lie
up until morning; and in your city we can find a dry place to sleep I
presume."
"Certainly," replied Valthor, "but it will not be safe to attempt to
cross Onthar by daylight. We should certainly be seen by the sentries
on the gates of Cathne, and as these people are our enemies the chances
are that we should never cross the valley without being either killed
or taken prisoners. It will be bad enough at night on account of the
lions, but by day it will be infinitely worse as we shall have both men
and lions to contend with."
"What lions?" demanded Tarzan.
"The men of Cathne breed lions, and there are many at large in the
valley," explained Valthor. "That great plain that you see below us,
stretching the full length of the valley on this side of the river, is
called the Field of the Lions. We shall be safer if we cross it after
dark."
"Whatever you wish," agreed Tarzan with a shrug; "it is all the same to
me if we start now or wait until dark."
"It is not very comfortable here," remarked the Athnean. "The rain is
cold."
"I have been uncomfortable before," replied Tarzan; "rains do not last
forever."
"If we were in Athne we should be very comfortable," sighed Valthor.
"In my father's house there are fireplaces; even now the flames are
roaring about great logs, and all is warmth and comfort."
"Above the clouds the sun is shining," replied Tarzan, "but we are not
above the clouds; we are here where the sun is not shining and there is
no fire, and we are cold." A faint smile touched his lips. "It does not
warm me to speak of fires or the sun."
"Nevertheless, I wish I were in Athne," insisted Valthor. "It is a
splendid city, and Thenar is a lovely valley. In Thenar we raise goats
and sheep and elephants. In Thenar there are no lions except those
that stray in from Onthar; those we kill. Our farmers raise vegetables
and fruits and hay; our artizans manufacture leather goods; they make
cloth from the hair of goats and the wool of sheep; our carvers work in
ivory and wood.
"We trade a little with the outside world, paying for what we buy with
ivory and gold. Were it not for the Cathneans we should lead a happy,
peaceful life without a care."
"What do you buy from the outside world, and of whom do you buy it?"
asked Tarzan.
"We buy salt, of which we have none of our own," explained Valthor.
"We also buy steel for our weapons and black slaves and occasionally
a white woman, if she be young and pretty. These things we buy from a
band of _shiftas_. With this same band we have traded since before the
memory of man. _Shifta_ chiefs and kings of Athne have come and gone,
but our relations with this band have never altered. I was searching
for them when I became lost and was captured by another band."
"Do you never trade with the people of Cathne?" asked the ape-man.
"Once each year there is a week's truce during which we trade with them
in peace. They give us gold and foodstuffs and hay in exchange for
the women, the salt, and the steel we buy from the _shiftas_, and the
cloth, leather, and ivory that we produce.
"Besides mining gold, the Cathneans breed lions for war and sport,
raise fruits, vegetables, cereals, and hay and work in gold and, to a
lesser extent, in ivory. Their gold and their hay are the products most
valuable to us; and of these we value the hay more, for without it we
should have to decrease our elephant herds."
"Why should two peoples so dependent upon one another fight?" asked
Tarzan.
Valthor shrugged. "I do not know; perhaps it is just a custom. Yet,
though we talk much of wanting peace, we should miss the thrills and
excitement that peace does not hold." His eyes brightened. "The raids!"
he exclaimed. "There is a sport for men! The Cathneans come with their
lions to hunt our goats, our sheep, our elephants, and us. They take
heads for trophies, and above all they value the head of man. They try
to take our women, and when they succeed then there is war, if the
family of the woman seized be of sufficient importance.
"When we wish sport we go into Onthar after gold and women or just for
the sport of killing men or capturing slaves. The greatest game of all
is to sell a woman to a Cathnean for much gold and then take her away
from him in a raid. No, I do not think that either we or the Cathneans
would care for peace."
As Valthor talked, an invisible sun sank lower into the west; heavy
clouds, dark and ominous, hid the peaks to the north, settling low over
the upper end of the valley. "I think we may start now," he said; "it
will soon be dark."
Downward through a gully, the sides of which hid them from the city of
Cathne, the two men made their way toward the floor of the valley. From
the heavy storm clouds burst a flash of lightning followed by the roar
of thunder; upon the upper end of the valley the storm god loosed his
wrath; water fell in a deluge of masses wiping from their sight the
hills beyond the storm.
By the time they reached level ground the storm was upon them and the
gully they had descended a raging mountain torrent. The swift night
had fallen; utter darkness surrounded them, darkness frequently broken
by vivid flashes of lightning. The pealing of the constant thunder was
deafening. The rain engulfed them in solid sheets like the waves of the
ocean. It was, perhaps, the most terrific storm that either of these
men had ever seen.
They could not converse; only the lightning prevented their becoming
separated, as it alone permitted Valthor to keep his course across the
grassy floor of the valley in the direction of the city of gold where
they would find the road that led to the Pass of the Warriors and on
into the valley of Thenar.
Presently they came within sight of the lights of the city, a few dim
lights framed by the casements of windows; and a moment later they
were on the road and were moving northward against the full fury of
the storm. And such a storm! As they moved toward its center it grew
in intensity; against the wind that accompanied it they waged a grim
battle that was sometimes to them and sometimes to the wind, for often
it stopped them in their tracks and forced them back.
For miles they pitted their muscles against the Herculean strength of
the storm god; and the rage of the storm god seemed to rise against
them, knowing no bounds, as though he was furious that these two puny
mortals should pit their strength against his. Suddenly, as though in a
last titanic effort to overcome them, the lightning burst into a mighty
blaze that illuminated the entire valley for seconds, the thunder
crashed as it had never crashed before, and a mass of water fell that
crushed the two men to earth.
As they staggered to their feet again foot-deep water swirled about
their legs; they stood in a broad, racing torrent that rushed past
them toward the river; but in that last effort the storm god had spent
his force. The rain ceased; through a rift in the dark clouds the moon
looked down, perhaps in wonder, upon a drowned world; and Valthor led
the way again toward the Pass of the Warriors. The last storm of the
rainy season was over.
It is seven miles from the Bridge of Gold, that is the gateway to
the city of Cathne, to the ford where the road to Thenar crosses the
river; and it required three hours for Valthor and Tarzan to cover the
distance, two hours for the first third and one hour for the remainder;
but at last they stood at the river's brink.
A boiling flood confronted them, tearing down a widened river toward
the city of Cathne. Valthor hesitated. "Ordinarily," he said to Tarzan,
"the water is little more than a foot deep. It must be three feet deep
now."
"And it will soon be deeper," commented the ape-man. "Only a small
portion of the storm waters have had time to reach this point from the
hills and the upper valley. If we are going to cross tonight, we shall
have to do it now."
"Very well," replied Valthor, "but follow me; I know the ford."
As the Athnean stepped into the water the clouds closed again beneath
the moon and plunged the world once more into darkness. As Tarzan
followed he could scarcely see his guide ahead of him; and as Valthor
knew the ford he moved more rapidly than the ape-man with the result
that presently Tarzan could not see him at all, but he felt his way
toward the opposite bank without thought of disaster.
The force of the stream was mighty; but mighty, too, are the thews of
Tarzan of the Apes. The water, which Valthor had thought to be three
feet in depth, was soon surging to the ape-man's waist, and then he
missed the ford and stepped into a hole. Instantly the current seized
him and swept him away; not even the giant muscles of Tarzan could cope
with the might of the flood.
The lord of the jungle fought the swirling waters in an effort to reach
the opposite shore, but in their embrace he was powerless. Was the
storm god proud or resentful to see one of his children succeed where
he had failed? That is a difficult question to answer, for gods are
strange creatures; they give to those who have and take from those who
have not; they punish whom they love and are jealous and resentful; in
which they resemble the creatures who conceived them.
Finding even his great strength powerless and weakening, Tarzan gave
up the struggle to reach the opposite bank and devoted his efforts to
keeping his nose above the surface of the angry flood. Even this was
none too easy of accomplishment, as the rushing waters had a trick of
twisting him about or turning him over. Often his head was submerged,
and sometimes he floated feet first and sometimes head first; but he
tried to rest his muscles as best he could against the time when some
vagary of the torrent might carry him within reach of the bank upon one
side or the other.
He knew that several miles below the city of Cathne the river entered
a narrow gorge, for that he had seen from the edge of the plateau from
which he had first viewed the valley of Onthar; and Valthor had told
him that beyond the gorge it tumbled in a mighty falls a hundred feet
to the bottom of a rocky canyon. Should he not succeed in escaping the
clutches of the torrent before it carried him into the gorge his doom
was sealed, but Tarzan felt neither fear nor panic. His life had been
in jeopardy often during his savage existence, yet he still lived.
He wondered what had become of Valthor. Perhaps he, too, was being
hurtled along either above or below him. But such was not the fact.
Valthor had reached the opposite bank in safety and waited there for
Tarzan. When the ape-man did not appear within a reasonable time, the
Athnean shouted his name aloud; but though he received no answer he was
still not sure that Tarzan was not upon the opposite side of the river,
the loud roaring of which might have drowned the sound of the voice of
either.
Then Valthor decided to wait until daylight, rather than abandon his
friend in a country with which he was entirely unfamiliar. That the
Athnean remained bespoke his loyalty as well as the high esteem in
which he held the ape-man, for the dangers that might beset Tarzan in
Onthar would prove even a greater menace to Valthor, an hereditary
enemy of the Cathneans.
Through the long night he waited and, with the coming of dawn, eagerly
scanned the opposite bank of the river, his slender hope for the safety
of his friend dying when daylight failed to reveal any sign of him.
Then, at last, he was convinced that Tarzan had been swept away to his
death by the raging flood; and, with a heavy heart, he turned away from
the river and resumed his interrupted journey toward the Pass of the
Warriors and the Valley of Thenar.
V