Two tall, bearded white men moved cautiously through the jungle from
their camp beside a wide river. They were Carl Jenssen and Sven
Malbihn, but little altered in appearance since the day, years before,
that they and their _safari_ had been so badly frightened by Korak and
Akut as the former sought haven with them.
Every year had they come into the jungle to trade with the natives, or
to rob them; to hunt and trap; or to guide other white men in the land
they knew so well. Always since their experience with The Sheik had
they operated at a safe distance from his territory.
Now they were closer to his village than they had been for years, yet
safe enough from discovery owing to the uninhabited nature of the
intervening jungle and the fear and enmity of Kovudoo’s people for The
Sheik, who, in time past, had raided and all but exterminated the
tribe.
This year they had come to trap live specimens for a European
zoological garden, and today they were approaching a trap which they
had set in the hope of capturing a specimen of the large baboons that
frequented the neighborhood. As they approached the trap they became
aware from the noises emanating from its vicinity that their efforts
had been crowned with success. The barking and screaming of hundreds of
baboons could mean naught else than that one or more of their number
had fallen a victim to the allurements of the bait.
The extreme caution of the two men was prompted by former experiences
with the intelligent and doglike creatures with which they had to deal.
More than one trapper has lost his life in battle with enraged baboons
who will hesitate to attack nothing upon one occasion, while upon
another a single gun shot will disperse hundreds of them.
Heretofore the Swedes had always watched near-by their trap, for as a
rule only the stronger bulls are thus caught, since in their greediness
they prevent the weaker from approaching the covered bait, and when
once within the ordinary rude trap woven on the spot of interlaced
branches they are able, with the aid of their friends upon the outside,
to demolish their prison and escape. But in this instance the trappers
had utilized a special steel cage which could withstand all the
strength and cunning of a baboon. It was only necessary, therefore, to
drive away the herd which they knew were surrounding the prison and
wait for their boys who were even now following them to the trap.
As they came within sight of the spot they found conditions precisely
as they had expected. A large male was battering frantically against
the steel wires of the cage that held him captive. Upon the outside
several hundred other baboons were tearing and tugging in his aid, and
all were roaring and jabbering and barking at the top of their lungs.
But what neither the Swedes nor the baboons saw was the half-naked
figure of a youth hidden in the foliage of a nearby tree. He had come
upon the scene at almost the same instant as Jenssen and Malbihn, and
was watching the activities of the baboons with every mark of interest.
Korak’s relations with the baboons had never been over friendly. A
species of armed toleration had marked their occasional meetings. The
baboons and Akut had walked stiff legged and growling past one another,
while Korak had maintained a bared fang neutrality. So now he was not
greatly disturbed by the predicament of their king. Curiosity prompted
him to tarry a moment, and in that moment his quick eyes caught the
unfamiliar coloration of the clothing of the two Swedes behind a bush
not far from him. Now he was all alertness. Who were these interlopers?
What was their business in the jungle of the Mangani? Korak slunk
noiselessly around them to a point where he might get their scent as
well as a better view of them, and scarce had he done so when he
recognized them—they were the men who had fired upon him years before.
His eyes blazed. He could feel the hairs upon his scalp stiffen at the
roots. He watched them with the intentness of a panther about to spring
upon its prey.
He saw them rise and, shouting, attempt to frighten away the baboons as
they approached the cage. Then one of them raised his rifle and fired
into the midst of the surprised and angry herd. For an instant Korak
thought that the baboons were about to charge, but two more shots from
the rifles of the white men sent them scampering into the trees. Then
the two Europeans advanced upon the cage. Korak thought that they were
going to kill the king. He cared nothing for the king but he cared less
for the two white men. The king had never attempted to kill him—the
white men had. The king was a denizen of his own beloved jungle—the
white men were aliens. His loyalty therefore was to the baboon against
the human. He could speak the language of the baboon—it was identical
to that of the great apes. Across the clearing he saw the jabbering
horde watching.
Raising his voice he shouted to them. The white men turned at the sound
of this new factor behind them. They thought it was another baboon that
had circled them; but though they searched the trees with their eyes
they saw nothing of the now silent figure hidden by the foliage. Again
Korak shouted.
“I am The Killer,” he cried. “These men are my enemies and yours. I
will help you free your king. Run out upon the strangers when you see
me do so, and together we will drive them away and free your king.”
And from the baboons came a great chorus: “We will do what you say,
Korak.”
Dropping from his tree Korak ran toward the two Swedes, and at the same
instant three hundred baboons followed his example. At sight of the
strange apparition of the half-naked white warrior rushing upon them
with uplifted spear Jenssen and Malbihn raised their rifles and fired
at Korak; but in the excitement both missed and a moment later the
baboons were upon them. Now their only hope of safety lay in escape,
and dodging here and there, fighting off the great beasts that leaped
upon their backs, they ran into the jungle. Even then they would have
died but for the coming of their men whom they met a couple of hundred
yards from the cage.
Once the white men had turned in flight Korak gave them no further
attention, turning instead to the imprisoned baboon. The fastenings of
the door that had eluded the mental powers of the baboons, yielded
their secret immediately to the human intelligence of The Killer, and a
moment later the king baboon stepped forth to liberty. He wasted no
breath in thanks to Korak, nor did the young man expect thanks. He knew
that none of the baboons would ever forget his service, though as a
matter of fact he did not care if they did. What he had done had been
prompted by a desire to be revenged upon the two white men. The baboons
could never be of service to him. Now they were racing in the direction
of the battle that was being waged between their fellows and the
followers of the two Swedes, and as the din of battle subsided in the
distance, Korak turned and resumed his journey toward the village of
Kovudoo.
On the way he came upon a herd of elephants standing in an open forest
glade. Here the trees were too far apart to permit Korak to travel
through the branches—a trail he much preferred not only because of its
freedom from dense underbrush and the wider field of vision it gave him
but from pride in his arboreal ability. It was exhilarating to swing
from tree to tree; to test the prowess of his mighty muscles; to reap
the pleasurable fruits of his hard won agility. Korak joyed in the
thrills of the highflung upper terraces of the great forest, where,
unhampered and unhindered, he might laugh down upon the great brutes
who must keep forever to the darkness and the gloom of the musty soil.
But here, in this open glade where Tantor flapped his giant ears and
swayed his huge bulk from side to side, the ape-man must pass along the
surface of the ground—a pygmy amongst giants. A great bull raised his
trunk to rattle a low warning as he sensed the coming of an intruder.
His weak eyes roved hither and thither but it was his keen scent and
acute hearing which first located the ape-man. The herd moved
restlessly, prepared for fight, for the old bull had caught the scent
of man.
“Peace, Tantor,” called The Killer. “It is I, Korak, Tarmangani.”
The bull lowered his trunk and the herd resumed their interrupted
meditations. Korak passed within a foot of the great bull. A sinuous
trunk undulated toward him, touching his brown hide in a half caress.
Korak slapped the great shoulder affectionately as he went by. For
years he had been upon good terms with Tantor and his people. Of all
the jungle folk he loved best the mighty pachyderm—the most peaceful
and at the same time the most terrible of them all. The gentle gazelle
feared him not, yet Numa, lord of the jungle, gave him a wide berth.
Among the younger bulls, the cows and the calves Korak wound his way.
Now and then another trunk would run out to touch him, and once a
playful calf grasped his legs and upset him.
The afternoon was almost spent when Korak arrived at the village of
Kovudoo. There were many natives lolling in shady spots beside the
conical huts or beneath the branches of the several trees which had
been left standing within the enclosure. Warriors were in evidence upon
hand. It was not a good time for a lone enemy to prosecute a search
through the village. Korak determined to await the coming of darkness.
He was a match for many warriors; but he could not, unaided, overcome
an entire tribe—not even for his beloved Meriem. While he waited among
the branches and foliage of a near-by tree he searched the village
constantly with his keen eyes, and twice he circled it, sniffing the
vagrant breezes which puffed erratically from first one point of the
compass and then another. Among the various stenches peculiar to a
native village the ape-man’s sensitive nostrils were finally rewarded
by cognizance of the delicate aroma which marked the presence of her he
sought. Meriem was there—in one of those huts! But which one he could
not know without closer investigation, and so he waited, with the
dogged patience of a beast of prey, until night had fallen.
The camp fires of the blacks dotted the gloom with little points of
light, casting their feeble rays in tiny circles of luminosity that
brought into glistening relief the naked bodies of those who lay or
squatted about them. It was then that Korak slid silently from the tree
that had hidden him and dropped lightly to the ground within the
enclosure.
Keeping well in the shadows of the huts he commenced a systematic
search of the village—ears, eyes and nose constantly upon the alert for
the first intimation of the near presence of Meriem. His progress must
of necessity be slow since not even the keen-eared curs of the savages
must guess the presence of a stranger within the gates. How close he
came to a detection on several occasions The Killer well knew from the
restless whining of several of them.
It was not until he reached the back of a hut at the head of the wide
village street that Korak caught again, plainly, the scent of Meriem.
With nose close to the thatched wall Korak sniffed eagerly about the
structure—tense and palpitant as a hunting hound. Toward the front and
the door he made his way when once his nose had assured him that Meriem
lay within; but as he rounded the side and came within view of the
entrance he saw a burly Negro armed with a long spear squatting at the
portal of the girl’s prison. The fellow’s back was toward him, his
figure outlined against the glow of cooking fires further down the
street. He was alone. The nearest of his fellows were beside a fire
sixty or seventy feet beyond. To enter the hut Korak must either
silence the sentry or pass him unnoticed. The danger in the
accomplishment of the former alternative lay in the practical certainty
of alarming the warriors near by and bringing them and the balance of
the village down upon him. To achieve the latter appeared practically
impossible. To you or me it would have been impossible; but Korak, The
Killer, was not as you or I.
There was a good twelve inches of space between the broad back of the
black and the frame of the doorway. Could Korak pass through behind the
savage warrior without detection? The light that fell upon the
glistening ebony of the sentry’s black skin fell also upon the light
brown of Korak’s. Should one of the many further down the street chance
to look long in this direction they must surely note the tall,
light-colored, moving figure; but Korak depended upon their interest in
their own gossip to hold their attention fast where it already lay, and
upon the firelight near them to prevent them seeing too plainly at a
distance into the darkness at the village end where his work lay.
Flattened against the side of the hut, yet not arousing a single
warning rustle from its dried thatching, The Killer came closer and
closer to the watcher. Now he was at his shoulder. Now he had wormed
his sinuous way behind him. He could feel the heat of the naked body
against his knees. He could hear the man breathe. He marveled that the
dull-witted creature had not long since been alarmed; but the fellow
sat there as ignorant of the presence of another as though that other
had not existed.
Korak moved scarcely more than an inch at a time, then he would stand
motionless for a moment. Thus was he worming his way behind the guard
when the latter straightened up, opened his cavernous mouth in a wide
yawn, and stretched his arms above his head. Korak stood rigid as
stone. Another step and he would be within the hut. The black lowered
his arms and relaxed. Behind him was the frame work of the doorway.
Often before had it supported his sleepy head, and now he leaned back
to enjoy the forbidden pleasure of a cat nap.
But instead of the door frame his head and shoulders came in contact
with the warm flesh of a pair of living legs. The exclamation of
surprise that almost burst from his lips was throttled in his throat by
steel-thewed fingers that closed about his windpipe with the suddenness
of thought. The black struggled to arise—to turn upon the creature that
had seized him—to wriggle from its hold; but all to no purpose. As he
had been held in a mighty vise of iron he could not move. He could not
scream. Those awful fingers at his throat but closed more and more
tightly. His eyes bulged from their sockets. His face turned an ashy
blue. Presently he relaxed once more—this time in the final dissolution
from which there is no quickening. Korak propped the dead body against
the door frame. There it sat, lifelike in the gloom. Then the ape-man
turned and glided into the Stygian darkness of the hut’s interior.
“Meriem!” he whispered.
“Korak! My Korak!” came an answering cry, subdued by fear of alarming
her captors, and half stifled by a sob of joyful welcome.
The youth knelt and cut the bonds that held the girl’s wrists and
ankles. A moment later he had lifted her to her feet, and grasping her
by the hand led her towards the entrance. Outside the grim sentinel of
death kept his grisly vigil. Sniffing at his dead feet whined a mangy
native cur. At sight of the two emerging from the hut the beast gave an
ugly snarl and an instant later as it caught the scent of the strange
white man it raised a series of excited yelps. Instantly the warriors
at the near-by fire were attracted. They turned their heads in the
direction of the commotion. It was impossible that they should fail to
see the white skins of the fugitives.
Korak slunk quickly into the shadows at the hut’s side, drawing Meriem
with him; but he was too late. The blacks had seen enough to arouse
their suspicions and a dozen of them were now running to investigate.
The yapping cur was still at Korak’s heels leading the searchers
unerringly in pursuit. The youth struck viciously at the brute with his
long spear; but, long accustomed to dodging blows, the wily creature
made a most uncertain target.
Other blacks had been alarmed by the running and shouting of their
companions and now the entire population of the village was swarming up
the street to assist in the search. Their first discovery was the dead
body of the sentry, and a moment later one of the bravest of them had
entered the hut and discovered the absence of the prisoner. These
startling announcements filled the blacks with a combination of terror
and rage; but, seeing no foe in evidence they were enabled to permit
their rage to get the better of their terror, and so the leaders,
pushed on by those behind them, ran rapidly around the hut in the
direction of the yapping of the mangy cur. Here they found a single
white warrior making away with their captive, and recognizing him as
the author of numerous raids and indignities and believing that they
had him cornered and at a disadvantage, they charged savagely upon him.
Korak, seeing that they were discovered, lifted Meriem to his shoulders
and ran for the tree which would give them egress from the village. He
was handicapped in his flight by the weight of the girl whose legs
would but scarce bear her weight, to say nothing of maintaining her in
rapid flight, for the tightly drawn bonds that had been about her
ankles for so long had stopped circulation and partially paralyzed her
extremities.
Had this not been the case the escape of the two would have been a feat
of little moment, since Meriem was scarcely a whit less agile than
Korak, and fully as much at home in the trees as he. But with the girl
on his shoulder Korak could not both run and fight to advantage, and
the result was that before he had covered half the distance to the tree
a score of native curs attracted by the yelping of their mate and the
yells and shouts of their masters had closed in upon the fleeing white
man, snapping at his legs and at last succeeding in tripping him. As he
went down the hyena-like brutes were upon him, and as he struggled to
his feet the blacks closed in.
A couple of them seized the clawing, biting Meriem, and subdued her—a
blow upon the head was sufficient. For the ape-man they found more
drastic measures would be necessary.
Weighted down as he was by dogs and warriors he still managed to
struggle to his feet. To right and left he swung crushing blows to the
faces of his human antagonists—to the dogs he paid not the slightest
attention other than to seize the more persistent and wring their necks
with a single quick movement of the wrist.
A knob stick aimed at him by an ebon Hercules he caught and wrested
from his antagonist, and then the blacks experienced to the full the
possibilities for punishment that lay within those smooth flowing
muscles beneath the velvet brown skin of the strange, white giant. He
rushed among them with all the force and ferocity of a bull elephant
gone mad. Hither and thither he charged striking down the few who had
the temerity to stand against him, and it was evident that unless a
chance spear thrust brought him down he would rout the entire village
and regain his prize. But old Kovudoo was not to be so easily robbed of
the ransom which the girl represented, and seeing that their attack
which had up to now resulted in a series of individual combats with the
white warrior, he called his tribesmen off, and forming them in a
compact body about the girl and the two who watched over her bid them
do nothing more than repel the assaults of the ape-man.
Again and again Korak rushed against this human barricade bristling
with spear points. Again and again he was repulsed, often with severe
wounds to caution him to greater wariness. From head to foot he was red
with his own blood, and at last, weakening from the loss of it, he came
to the bitter realization that alone he could do no more to succor his
Meriem.
Presently an idea flashed through his brain. He called aloud to the
girl. She had regained consciousness now and replied.
“Korak goes,” he shouted; “but he will return and take you from the
Gomangani. Good-bye, my Meriem. Korak will come for you again.”
“Good-bye!” cried the girl. “Meriem will look for you until you come.”
Like a flash, and before they could know his intention or prevent him,
Korak wheeled, raced across the village and with a single leap
disappeared into the foliage of the great tree that was his highroad to
the village of Kovudoo. A shower of spears followed him, but their only
harvest was a taunting laugh flung back from out the darkness of the
jungle.