IX.

It was an unhappy Korak who wandered aimlessly through the jungle the

day following his inhospitable reception by the great apes. His heart

was heavy from disappointment. Unsatisfied vengeance smoldered in his

breast. He looked with hatred upon the denizens of his jungle world,

baring his fighting fangs and growling at those that came within radius

of his senses. The mark of his father’s early life was strong upon him

and enhanced by months of association with beasts, from whom the

imitative faculty of youth had absorbed a countless number of little

mannerisms of the predatory creatures of the wild.

He bared his fangs now as naturally and upon as slight provocation as

Sheeta, the panther, bared his. He growled as ferociously as Akut

himself. When he came suddenly upon another beast his quick crouch bore

a strange resemblance to the arching of a cat’s back. Korak, the

killer, was looking for trouble. In his heart of hearts he hoped to

meet the king ape who had driven him from the amphitheater. To this end

he insisted upon remaining in the vicinity; but the exigencies of the

perpetual search for food led them several miles further away during

day.

They were moving slowly down wind, and warily because the advantage was

with whatever beast might chance to be hunting ahead of them, where

their scent-spoor was being borne by the light breeze. Suddenly the two

halted simultaneously. Two heads were cocked upon one side. Like

creatures hewn from solid rock they stood immovable, listening. Not a

muscle quivered. For several seconds they remained thus, then Korak

advanced cautiously a few yards and leaped nimbly into a tree. Akut

followed close upon his heels. Neither had made a noise that would have

been appreciable to human ears at a dozen paces.

Stopping often to listen they crept forward through the trees. That

both were greatly puzzled was apparent from the questioning looks they

cast at one another from time to time. Finally the lad caught a glimpse

of a palisade a hundred yards ahead, and beyond it the tops of some

goatskin tents and a number of thatched huts. His lip upcurled in a

savage snarl. Blacks! How he hated them. He signed to Akut to remain

where he was while he advanced to reconnoiter.

Woe betide the unfortunate villager whom The Killer came upon now.

Slinking through the lower branches of the trees, leaping lightly from

one jungle giant to its neighbor where the distance was not too great,

or swinging from one hand hold to another Korak came silently toward

the village. He heard a voice beyond the palisade and toward that he

made his way. A great tree overhung the enclosure at the very point

from which the voice came. Into this Korak crept. His spear was ready

in his hand. His ears told him of the proximity of a human being. All

that his eyes required was a single glance to show him his target.

Then, lightning like, the missile would fly to its goal. With raised

spear he crept among the branches of the tree glaring narrowly downward

in search of the owner of the voice which rose to him from below.

At last he saw a human back. The spear hand flew to the limit of the

throwing position to gather the force that would send the iron shod

missile completely through the body of the unconscious victim. And then

The Killer paused. He leaned forward a little to get a better view of

the target. Was it to insure more perfect aim, or had there been that

in the graceful lines and the childish curves of the little body below

him that had held in check the spirit of murder running riot in his

veins?

He lowered his spear cautiously that it might make no noise by scraping

against foliage or branches. Quietly he crouched in a comfortable

position along a great limb and there he lay with wide eyes looking

down in wonder upon the creature he had crept upon to kill—looking down

upon a little girl, a little nut brown maiden. The snarl had gone from

his lip. His only expression was one of interested attention—he was

trying to discover what the girl was doing. Suddenly a broad grin

overspread his face, for a turn of the girl’s body had revealed Geeka

of the ivory head and the rat skin torso—Geeka of the splinter limbs

and the disreputable appearance. The little girl raised the marred face

to hers and rocking herself backward and forward crooned a plaintive

Arab lullaby to the doll. A softer light entered the eyes of The

Killer. For a long hour that passed very quickly to him Korak lay with

gaze riveted upon the playing child. Not once had he had a view of the

girl’s full face. For the most part he saw only a mass of wavy, black

hair, one brown little shoulder exposed upon the side from where her

single robe was caught beneath her arm, and a shapely knee protruding

from beneath her garment as she sat cross legged upon the ground. A

tilt of the head as she emphasized some maternal admonition to the

passive Geeka revealed occasionally a rounded cheek or a piquant little

chin. Now she was shaking a slim finger at Geeka, reprovingly, and

again she crushed to her heart this only object upon which she might

lavish the untold wealth of her childish affections.

Korak, momentarily forgetful of his bloody mission, permitted the

fingers of his spear hand to relax a little their grasp upon the shaft

of his formidable weapon. It slipped, almost falling; but the

occurrence recalled The Killer to himself. It reminded him of his

purpose in slinking stealthily upon the owner of the voice that had

attracted his vengeful attention. He glanced at the spear, with its

well-worn grip and cruel, barbed head. Then he let his eyes wander

again to the dainty form below him. In imagination he saw the heavy

weapon shooting downward. He saw it pierce the tender flesh, driving

its way deep into the yielding body. He saw the ridiculous doll drop

from its owner’s arms to lie sprawled and pathetic beside the quivering

body of the little girl. The Killer shuddered, scowling at the

inanimate iron and wood of the spear as though they constituted a

sentient being endowed with a malignant mind.

Korak wondered what the girl would do were he to drop suddenly from the

tree to her side. Most likely she would scream and run away. Then would

come the men of the village with spears and guns and set upon him. They

would either kill him or drive him away. A lump rose in the boy’s

throat. He craved the companionship of his own kind, though he scarce

realized how greatly. He would have liked to slip down beside the

little girl and talk with her, though he knew from the words he had

overheard that she spoke a language with which he was unfamiliar. They

could have talked by signs a little. That would have been better than

nothing. Too, he would have been glad to see her face. What he had

glimpsed assured him that she was pretty; but her strongest appeal to

him lay in the affectionate nature revealed by her gentle mothering of

the grotesque doll.

At last he hit upon a plan. He would attract her attention, and

reassure her by a smiling greeting from a greater distance. Silently he

wormed his way back into the tree. It was his intention to hail her

from beyond the palisade, giving her the feeling of security which he

imagined the stout barricade would afford.

He had scarcely left his position in the tree when his attention was

attracted by a considerable noise upon the opposite side of the

village. By moving a little he could see the gate at the far end of the

main street. A number of men, women and children were running toward

it. It swung open, revealing the head of a caravan upon the opposite

side. In trooped the motley organization—black slaves and dark hued

Arabs of the northern deserts; cursing camel drivers urging on their

vicious charges; overburdened donkeys, waving sadly pendulous ears

while they endured with stoic patience the brutalities of their

masters; goats, sheep and horses. Into the village they all trooped

behind a tall, sour, old man, who rode without greetings to those who

shrunk from his path directly to a large goatskin tent in the center of

the village. Here he spoke to a wrinkled hag.

Korak, from his vantage spot, could see it all. He saw the old man

asking questions of the black woman, and then he saw the latter point

toward a secluded corner of the village which was hidden from the main

street by the tents of the Arabs and the huts of the natives in the

direction of the tree beneath which the little girl played. This was

doubtless her father, thought Korak. He had been away and his first

thought upon returning was of his little daughter. How glad she would

be to see him! How she would run and throw herself into his arms, to be

crushed to his breast and covered with his kisses. Korak sighed. He

thought of his own father and mother far away in London.

He returned to his place in the tree above the girl. If he couldn’t

have happiness of this sort himself he wanted to enjoy the happiness of

others. Possibly if he made himself known to the old man he might be

permitted to come to the village occasionally as a friend. It would be

worth trying. He would wait until the old Arab had greeted his

daughter, then he would make his presence known with signs of peace.

The Arab was striding softly toward the girl. In a moment he would be

beside her, and then how surprised and delighted she would be! Korak’s

eyes sparkled in anticipation—and now the old man stood behind the

little girl. His stern old face was still unrelaxed. The child was yet

unconscious of his presence. She prattled on to the unresponsive Geeka.

Then the old man coughed. With a start the child glanced quickly up

over her shoulder. Korak could see her full face now. It was very

beautiful in its sweet and innocent childishness—all soft and lovely

curves. He could see her great, dark eyes. He looked for the happy love

light that would follow recognition; but it did not come. Instead,

terror, stark, paralyzing terror, was mirrored in her eyes, in the

expression of her mouth, in the tense, cowering attitude of her body. A

grim smile curved the thin, cruel lip of the Arab. The child essayed to

crawl away; but before she could get out of his reach the old man

kicked her brutally, sending her sprawling upon the grass. Then he

followed her up to seize and strike her as was his custom.

Above them, in the tree, a beast crouched where a moment before had

been a boy—a beast with dilating nostrils and bared fangs—a beast that

trembled with rage.

The Sheik was stooping to reach for the girl when The Killer dropped to

the ground at his side. His spear was still in his left hand but he had

forgotten it. Instead his right fist was clenched and as The Sheik took

a backward step, astonished by the sudden materialization of this

strange apparition apparently out of clear air, the heavy fist landed

full upon his mouth backed by the weight of the young giant and the

terrific power of his more than human muscles.

Bleeding and senseless The Sheik sank to earth. Korak turned toward the

child. She had regained her feet and stood wide eyed and frightened,

looking first into his face and then, horror struck, at the recumbent

figure of The Sheik. In an involuntary gesture of protection The Killer

threw an arm about the girl’s shoulders and stood waiting for the Arab

to regain consciousness. For a moment they remained thus, when the girl

spoke.

“When he regains his senses he will kill me,” she said, in Arabic.

Korak could not understand her. He shook his head, speaking to her

first in English and then in the language of the great apes; but

neither of these was intelligible to her. She leaned forward and

touched the hilt of the long knife that the Arab wore. Then she raised

her clasped hand above her head and drove an imaginary blade into her

breast above her heart. Korak understood. The old man would kill her.

The girl came to his side again and stood there trembling. She did not

fear him. Why should she? He had saved her from a terrible beating at

the hands of The Sheik. Never, in her memory, had another so befriended

her. She looked up into his face. It was a boyish, handsome face,

nut-brown like her own. She admired the spotted leopard skin that

circled his lithe body from one shoulder to his knees. The metal

anklets and armlets adorning him aroused her envy. Always had she

coveted something of the kind; but never had The Sheik permitted her

more than the single cotton garment that barely sufficed to cover her

nakedness. No furs or silks or jewelry had there ever been for little

Meriem.

And Korak looked at the girl. He had always held girls in a species of

contempt. Boys who associated with them were, in his estimation,

mollycoddles. He wondered what he should do. Could he leave her here to

be abused, possibly murdered, by the villainous old Arab? No! But, on

the other hand, could he take her into the jungle with him? What could

he accomplish burdened by a weak and frightened girl? She would scream

at her own shadow when the moon came out upon the jungle night and the

great beasts roamed, moaning and roaring, through the darkness.

He stood for several minutes buried in thought. The girl watched his

face, wondering what was passing in his mind. She, too, was thinking of

the future. She feared to remain and suffer the vengeance of The Sheik.

There was no one in all the world to whom she might turn, other than

this half-naked stranger who had dropped miraculously from the clouds

to save her from one of The Sheik’s accustomed beatings. Would her new

friend leave her now? Wistfully she gazed at his intent face. She moved

a little closer to him, laying a slim, brown hand upon his arm. The

contact awakened the lad from his absorption. He looked down at her,

and then his arm went about her shoulder once more, for he saw tears

upon her lashes.

“Come,” he said. “The jungle is kinder than man. You shall live in the

jungle and Korak and Akut will protect you.”

She did not understand his words, but the pressure of his arm drawing

her away from the prostrate Arab and the tents was quite intelligible.

One little arm crept about his waist and together they walked toward

the palisade. Beneath the great tree that had harbored Korak while he

watched the girl at play he lifted her in his arms and throwing her

lightly across his shoulder leaped nimbly into the lower branches. Her

arms were about his neck and from one little hand Geeka dangled down

his straight young back.

And so Meriem entered the jungle with Korak, trusting, in her childish

innocence, the stranger who had befriended her, and perhaps influenced

in her belief in him by that strange intuitive power possessed by

woman. She had no conception of what the future might hold. She did not

know, nor could she have guessed the manner of life led by her

protector. Possibly she pictured a distant village similar to that of

The Sheik in which lived other white men like the stranger. That she

was to be taken into the savage, primeval life of a jungle beast could

not have occurred to her. Had it, her little heart would have

palpitated with fear. Often had she wished to run away from the

cruelties of The Sheik and Mabunu; but the dangers of the jungle always

had deterred her.

The two had gone but a short distance from the village when the girl

spied the huge proportions of the great Akut. With a half-stifled

scream she clung more closely to Korak, and pointed fearfully toward

the ape.

Akut, thinking that The Killer was returning with a prisoner, came

growling toward them—a little girl aroused no more sympathy in the

beast’s heart than would a full-grown bull ape. She was a stranger and

therefore to be killed. He bared his yellow fangs as he approached, and

to his surprise The Killer bared his likewise, but he bared them at

Akut, and snarled menacingly.

“Ah,” thought Akut, “The Killer has taken a mate,” and so, obedient to

the tribal laws of his kind, he left them alone, becoming suddenly

absorbed in a fuzzy caterpillar of peculiarly succulent appearance. The

larva disposed of, he glanced from the corner of an eye at Korak. The

youth had deposited his burden upon a large limb, where she clung

desperately to keep from falling.

“She will accompany us,” said Korak to Akut, jerking a thumb in the

direction of the girl. “Do not harm her. We will protect her.”

Akut shrugged. To be burdened by the young of man was in no way to his

liking. He could see from her evident fright at her position on the

branch, and from the terrified glances she cast in his direction that

she was hopelessly unfit. By all the ethics of Akut’s training and

inheritance the unfit should be eliminated; but if The Killer wished

this there was nothing to be done about it but to tolerate her. Akut

certainly didn’t want her—of that he was quite positive. Her skin was

too smooth and hairless. Quite snake-like, in fact, and her face was

most unattractive. Not at all like that of a certain lovely she he had

particularly noticed among the apes in the amphitheater the previous

night. Ah, there was true feminine beauty for one!—a great, generous

mouth; lovely, yellow fangs, and the cutest, softest side whiskers!

Akut sighed. Then he rose, expanded his great chest and strutted back

and forth along a substantial branch, for even a puny thing like this

she of Korak’s might admire his fine coat and his graceful carriage.

But poor little Meriem only shrank closer to Korak and almost wished

that she were back in the village of The Sheik where the terrors of

existence were of human origin, and so more or less familiar. The

hideous ape frightened her. He was so large and so ferocious in

appearance. His actions she could only interpret as a menace, for how

could she guess that he was parading to excite admiration? Nor could

she know of the bond of fellowship which existed between this great

brute and the godlike youth who had rescued her from the Sheik.

Meriem spent an evening and a night of unmitigated terror. Korak and

Akut led her along dizzy ways as they searched for food. Once they hid

her in the branches of a tree while they stalked a near-by buck. Even

her natural terror of being left alone in the awful jungle was

submerged in a greater horror as she saw the man and the beast spring

simultaneously upon their prey and drag it down, as she saw the

handsome face of her preserver contorted in a bestial snarl; as she saw

his strong, white teeth buried in the soft flesh of the kill.

When he came back to her blood smeared his face and hands and breast

and she shrank from him as he offered her a huge hunk of hot, raw meat.

He was evidently much disturbed by her refusal to eat, and when, a

moment later, he scampered away into the forest to return with fruit

for her she was once more forced to alter her estimation of him. This

time she did not shrink, but acknowledged his gift with a smile that,

had she known it, was more than ample payment to the affection starved

boy.

The sleeping problem vexed Korak. He knew that the girl could not

balance herself in safety in a tree crotch while she slept, nor would

it be safe to permit her to sleep upon the ground open to the attacks

of prowling beasts of prey. There was but a single solution that

presented itself—he must hold her in his arms all night. And that he

did, with Akut braced upon one side of her and he upon the other, so

that she was warmed by the bodies of them both.

She did not sleep much until the night was half spent; but at last

Nature overcame her terrors of the black abyss beneath and the hairy

body of the wild beast at her side, and she fell into a deep slumber

which outlasted the darkness. When she opened her eyes the sun was well

up. At first she could not believe in the reality of her position. Her

head had rolled from Korak’s shoulder so that her eyes were directed

upon the hairy back of the ape. At sight of it she shrank away. Then

she realized that someone was holding her, and turning her head she saw

the smiling eyes of the youth regarding her. When he smiled she could

not fear him, and now she shrank closer against him in natural

revulsion toward the rough coat of the brute upon her other side.

Korak spoke to her in the language of the apes; but she shook her head,

and spoke to him in the language of the Arab, which was as

unintelligible to him as was ape speech to her. Akut sat up and looked

at them. He could understand what Korak said but the girl made only

foolish noises that were entirely unintelligible and ridiculous. Akut

could not understand what Korak saw in her to attract him. He looked at

her long and steadily, appraising her carefully, then he scratched his

head, rose and shook himself.

His movement gave the girl a little start—she had forgotten Akut for

the moment. Again she shrank from him. The beast saw that she feared

him, and being a brute enjoyed the evidence of the terror his

brutishness inspired. Crouching, he extended his huge hand stealthily

toward her, as though to seize her. She shrank still further away.

Akut’s eyes were busy drinking in the humor of the situation—he did not

see the narrowing eyes of the boy upon him, nor the shortening neck as

the broad shoulders rose in a characteristic attitude of preparation

for attack. As the ape’s fingers were about to close upon the girl’s

arm the youth rose suddenly with a short, vicious growl. A clenched

fist flew before Meriem’s eyes to land full upon the snout of the

astonished Akut. With an explosive bellow the anthropoid reeled

backward and tumbled from the tree.

Korak stood glaring down upon him when a sudden swish in the bushes

close by attracted his attention. The girl too was looking down; but

she saw nothing but the angry ape scrambling to his feet. Then, like a

bolt from a cross bow, a mass of spotted, yellow fur shot into view

straight for Akut’s back. It was Sheeta, the leopard.