"There!" gasped the "Gunner."
"I am free!" exclaimed Jezebel.
"And my jaws is wore out," said Danny.
Quickly Jezebel turned and worked upon the thongs that confined the
"Gunner's" wrists before taking the time to loose her ankles. Her
fingers were quite numb, for the cords had partially cut off the
circulation from her hands; and she was slow and bungling at the
work. It seemed to them both that she would never be done. Had they
known that Ntale had already arisen from his breakfast fire with the
announcement that he was going to kill the "Gunner," they would have
been frantic; but they did not know it, and perhaps that were better,
since to Jezebel's other handicaps was not added the nervous tension
that surely would have accompanied a knowledge of the truth.
But at last the "Gunner's" hands were free; and then both fell to work
upon the cords that secured their ankles, which were less tightly
fastened.
At last the "Gunner" arose. "The first thing I do," he said, "is to
find out what I was lyin' on yesterday. It had a familiar feel to it;
and, if I'm right--boy!"
He rummaged among the filthy rags at the end of the hut, and a moment
later straightened up with a Thompson submachine gun in one hand and
his revolver, belt and holster in the other--a grin on his face.
"This is the first break I've had in a long time," he said.
"Everything's jake now, sister."
"What are those things?" asked Jezebel.
"Them's the other half of 'Gunner' Patrick," replied Danny. "Now, bring
on your tough smokes!"
As he spoke, Ntale the chief drew aside the rug at the doorway and
looked in. The interior of the hut was rather dark, and at first glance
he could not make out the figures of the girl and the man standing at
the far side; but, silhouetted as he was against the growing morning
light beyond the doorway, he was plainly visible to his intended
victim; and Danny saw that the man carried a pistol ready in his hand.
The "Gunner" had already buckled his belt about him. Now he transferred
the machine gun to his left hand and drew his revolver from its
holster. He did these things quickly and silently. So quickly that, as
he fired, Ntale had not realized that his prisoners were free of their
bonds--a thing he never knew, as, doubtless, he never heard the report
of the shot that killed him.
At the same instant that the "Gunner" fired, the report of his revolver
was drowned by yells and a shot from a sentry at the gate, to whom the
coming day had revealed a hostile force creeping upon the village.
As Danny Patrick stepped over the dead body of the chief and looked
out into the village he realized something of what had occurred. He
saw men running hastily toward the village gates and scrambling to the
banquette. He heard a fusillade of shots that spattered against the
palisade, splintering the wood and tearing through to fill the village
with a screaming, terror stricken mob.
His knowledge of such things told him that only high powered rifles
could send their projectiles through the heavy wood of the palisade.
He saw the _shiftas_ on the banquette returning the fire with their
antiquated muskets. He saw the slaves and prisoners cowering in a
corner of the village that was freer from the fire of the attackers
than other portions.
He wondered who the enemies of the _shiftas_ might be, and past
experience suggested only two possibilities--either a rival "gang" or
the police.
"I never thought I'd come to it, kid," he said.
"Come to what, Danny?"
"I hate to tell you what I been hopin'," he admitted.
"Tell me, Danny," she said. "I won't be angry."
"I been hopin' them guys out there was cops. Just think o' that, kid!
Me, "Gunner" Patrick, a-hopin' the cops would come!"
"What are cops, Danny?"
"Laws, harness bulls--Geeze, kid, why do you ask so many questions?
Cops is cops. And I'll tell you why I hope its them. If it ain't cops
its a rival mob, and we'd get just as tough a break with them as with
these guys."
He stepped out into the village street. "Well," he said, "here goes
Danny Patrick smearin' up with the police. You stay here, kid, and lie
down on your bread basket, so none of them slugs'll find you, while I
go out and push the smokes around."
Before the gate was a great crowd of _shiftas_ firing through openings
at the enemy beyond. The "Gunner" knelt and raised the machine gun
to his shoulder. There was the vicious b-r-r-r as of some titanic
rattle snake; and a dozen of the massed _shiftas_ collapsed, dead or
screaming, to the ground.
The others turned and, seeing the "Gunner," realized that they were
caught between two fires, for they remembered the recent occasion upon
which they had witnessed the deadly effects of this terrifying weapon.
The "Gunner" spied Ogonyo among the prisoners and slaves huddled not
far from where he stood, and the sight of him suggested an idea to the
white man.
"Hey! Big Smoke, you!" He waved his hand to Ogonyo. "Come here! Bring
all them guys with you. Tell 'em to grab anything they can fight with
if they want to make their getaway."
Whether or not Ogonyo understood even a small part of what the "Gunner"
said, he seemed at least to grasp the main idea; and presently the
whole mob of prisoners and slaves, except the women, had placed
themselves behind Danny.
The firing from the attacking force had subsided somewhat since Danny's
typewriter had spoken, as though the leader of that other party had
recognized its voice and guessed that white prisoners within the
village might be menaced by his rifle fire. Only an occasional shot,
aimed at some specific target, was coming into the village.
The _shiftas_ had regained their composure to some extent and were
preparing their horses and mounting, with the evident intention of
executing a sortie. They were leaderless and confused, half a dozen
shouting advice and instructions at the same time.
It was at this moment that Danny advanced upon them with his motley
horde armed with sticks and stones, an occasional knife and a few
swords hastily stolen from the huts of their captors.
As the _shiftas_ realized that they were menaced thus seriously from
the rear, "the Gunner" opened fire upon them for the second time, and
the confusion that followed in the village compound gave the attackers
both within and without a new advantage.
The _shiftas_ fought among themselves for the loose horses that were
now stampeding in terror about the village; and as a number of them
succeeded in mounting they rode for the village gates, overthrowing
those who had remained to defend them. Some among them forced the
portals open; and as the horsemen dashed out they were met by a band
of black warriors, above whose heads waved white plumes, and in whose
hands were modern high powered rifles.
The attacking force had been lying partially concealed behind a low
ridge, and as it rose to meet the escaping _shiftas_ the savage war cry
of the Waziri rang above the tumult of the battle.
First to the gates was Tarzan, war chief of the Waziri, and while
Muviro and a small detachment accounted for all but a few of the
horsemen who had succeeded in leaving the village, the ape-man, with
the remaining Waziri, charged the demoralized remnants of Capietro's
band that remained within the palisade.
Surrounded by enemies, the _shiftas_ threw down their rifles and begged
for mercy, and soon they were herded into a corner of the village under
guard of a detachment of the Waziri.
As Tarzan greeted the "Gunner" and Jezebel he expressed his relief at
finding them unharmed.
"You sure come at the right time," Danny told him. "This old typewriter
certainly chews up the ammunition, and that last burst just about
emptied the drum; but say, who are your friends? Where did you raise
this mob?"
"They are my people," replied Tarzan.
"Some gang!" ejaculated the "Gunner," admiringly; "but say, have you
seen anything of old Smithy?"
"He is safe at my camp."
"And Barbara," asked Jezebel; "where is she?"
"She is with Smith," replied Tarzan. "You will see them both in a few
hours. We start back as soon as I arrange for the disposal of these
people." He turned away and commenced to make inquiries among the
prisoners of the _shiftas_.
"Is he not beautiful!" exclaimed Jezebel.
"Hey, sister, can that 'beautiful' stuff," warned the "Gunner," "and
from now on remember that I'm the only 'beautiful' guy you know, no
matter what my pan looks like."
Quickly Tarzan separated the prisoners according to their tribes and
villages, appointed headmen to lead them back to their homes and issued
instructions to them as he explained his plans.
The weapons, ammunition, loot and belongings of the _shiftas_ were
divided among the prisoners, after the Waziri had been allowed to
select such trifles as they desired. The captured _shiftas_ were placed
in charge of a large band of Gallas with orders to return them to
Abyssinia and turn them over to the nearest ras.
"Why not hang them here?" asked the Galla headman. "We shall then save
all the food they would eat on the long march back to our country,
besides saving us much trouble and worry in guarding them--for the ras
will certainly hang them."
"Take them back, as I tell you," replied Tarzan. "But if they give you
trouble do with them as you see fit."
It took little more than an hour to evacuate the village. All of
Smith's loads were recovered, including Danny's precious ammunition
and extra drums for his beloved Thompson; and these were assigned to
Smith's porters, who were once again assembled under Ogonyo.
When the village was emptied it was fired in a dozen places; and, as
the black smoke curled up toward the blue heavens, the various parties
took their respective ways from the scene of their captivity, but not
before the several headmen had come and knelt before the Lord of the
Jungle and thanked him for the deliverance of their people.