With wide eyes fixed upon him, like a trapped creature horrified
beneath the mesmeric gaze of a great serpent, the girl watched the
approach of the man. Her hands were free, the Swedes having secured her
with a length of ancient slave chain fastened at one end to an iron
collar padlocked about her neck and at the other to a long stake driven
deep into the ground.
Slowly Meriem shrank inch by inch toward the opposite end of the tent.
Malbihn followed her. His hands were extended and his fingers
half-opened—claw-like—to seize her. His lips were parted, and his
breath came quickly, pantingly.
The girl recalled Jenssen’s instructions to call him should Malbihn
molest her; but Jenssen had gone into the jungle to hunt. Malbihn had
chosen his time well. Yet she screamed, loud and shrill, once, twice, a
third time, before Malbihn could leap across the tent and throttle her
alarming cries with his brute fingers. Then she fought him, as any
jungle she might fight, with tooth and nail. The man found her no easy
prey. In that slender, young body, beneath the rounded curves and the
fine, soft skin, lay the muscles of a young lioness. But Malbihn was no
weakling. His character and appearance were brutal, nor did they belie
his brawn. He was of giant stature and of giant strength. Slowly he
forced the girl back upon the ground, striking her in the face when she
hurt him badly either with teeth or nails. Meriem struck back, but she
was growing weaker from the choking fingers at her throat.
Out in the jungle Jenssen had brought down two bucks. His hunting had
not carried him far afield, nor was he prone to permit it to do so. He
was suspicious of Malbihn. The very fact that his companion had refused
to accompany him and elected instead to hunt alone in another direction
would not, under ordinary circumstances, have seemed fraught with
sinister suggestion; but Jenssen knew Malbihn well, and so, having
secured meat, he turned immediately back toward camp, while his boys
brought in his kill.
He had covered about half the return journey when a scream came faintly
to his ears from the direction of camp. He halted to listen. It was
repeated twice. Then silence. With a muttered curse Jenssen broke into
a rapid run. He wondered if he would be too late. What a fool Malbihn
was indeed to thus chance jeopardizing a fortune!
Further away from camp than Jenssen and upon the opposite side another
heard Meriem’s screams—a stranger who was not even aware of the
proximity of white men other than himself—a hunter with a handful of
sleek, black warriors. He, too, listened intently for a moment. That
the voice was that of a woman in distress he could not doubt, and so he
also hastened at a run in the direction of the affrighted voice; but he
was much further away than Jenssen so that the latter reached the tent
first. What the Swede found there roused no pity within his calloused
heart, only anger against his fellow scoundrel. Meriem was still
fighting off her attacker. Malbihn still was showering blows upon her.
Jenssen, streaming foul curses upon his erstwhile friend, burst into
the tent. Malbihn, interrupted, dropped his victim and turned to meet
Jenssen’s infuriated charge. He whipped a revolver from his hip.
Jenssen, anticipating the lightning move of the other’s hand, drew
almost simultaneously, and both men fired at once. Jenssen was still
moving toward Malbihn at the time, but at the flash of the explosion he
stopped. His revolver dropped from nerveless fingers. For a moment he
staggered drunkenly. Deliberately Malbihn put two more bullets into his
friend’s body at close range. Even in the midst of the excitement and
her terror Meriem found herself wondering at the tenacity of life which
the hit man displayed. His eyes were closed, his head dropped forward
upon his breast, his hands hung limply before him. Yet still he stood
there upon his feet, though he reeled horribly. It was not until the
third bullet had found its mark within his body that he lunged forward
upon his face. Then Malbihn approached him, and with an oath kicked him
viciously. Then he returned once more to Meriem. Again he seized her,
and at the same instant the flaps of the tent opened silently and a
tall white man stood in the aperture. Neither Meriem or Malbihn saw the
newcomer. The latter’s back was toward him while his body hid the
stranger from Meriem’s eyes.
He crossed the tent quickly, stepping over Jenssen’s body. The first
intimation Malbihn had that he was not to carry out his design without
further interruption was a heavy hand upon his shoulder. He wheeled to
face an utter stranger—a tall, black-haired, gray-eyed stranger clad in
khaki and pith helmet. Malbihn reached for his gun again, but another
hand had been quicker than his and he saw the weapon tossed to the
ground at the side of the tent—out of reach.
“What is the meaning of this?” the stranger addressed his question to
Meriem in a tongue she did not understand. She shook her head and spoke
in Arabic. Instantly the man changed his question to that language.
“These men are taking me away from Korak,” explained the girl. “This
one would have harmed me. The other, whom he had just killed, tried to
stop him. They were both very bad men; but this one is the worse. If my
Korak were here he would kill him. I suppose you are like them, so you
will not kill him.”
The stranger smiled. “He deserves killing,” he said. “There is no doubt
of that. Once I should have killed him; but not now. I will see,
though, that he does not bother you any more.”
He was holding Malbihn in a grasp the giant Swede could not break,
though he struggled to do so, and he was holding him as easily as
Malbihn might have held a little child, yet Malbihn was a huge man,
mightily thewed. The Swede began to rage and curse. He struck at his
captor, only to be twisted about and held at arm’s length. Then he
shouted to his boys to come and kill the stranger. In response a dozen
strange blacks entered the tent. They, too, were powerful, clean-limbed
men, not at all like the mangy crew that followed the Swedes.
“We have had enough foolishness,” said the stranger to Malbihn. “You
deserve death, but I am not the law. I know now who you are. I have
heard of you before. You and your friend here bear a most unsavory
reputation. We do not want you in our country. I shall let you go this
time; but should you ever return I shall take the law into my own
hands. You understand?”
Malbihn blustered and threatened, finishing by applying a most
uncomplimentary name to his captor. For this he received a shaking that
rattled his teeth. Those who know say that the most painful punishment
that can be inflicted upon an adult male, short of injuring him, is a
good, old fashioned shaking. Malbihn received such a shaking.
“Now get out,” said the stranger, “and next time you see me remember
who I am,” and he spoke a name in the Swede’s ear—a name that more
effectually subdued the scoundrel than many beatings—then he gave him a
push that carried him bodily through the tent doorway to sprawl upon
the turf beyond.
“Now,” he said, turning toward Meriem, “who has the key to this thing
about your neck?”
The girl pointed to Jenssen’s body. “He carried it always,” she said.
The stranger searched the clothing on the corpse until he came upon the
key. A moment more Meriem was free.
“Will you let me go back to my Korak?” she asked.
“I will see that you are returned to your people,” he replied. “Who are
they and where is their village?”
He had been eyeing her strange, barbaric garmenture wonderingly. From
her speech she was evidently an Arab girl; but he had never before seen
one thus clothed.
“Who are your people? Who is Korak?” he asked again.
“Korak! Why Korak is an ape. I have no other people. Korak and I live
in the jungle alone since A’ht went to be king of the apes.” She had
always thus pronounced Akut’s name, for so it had sounded to her when
first she came with Korak and the ape. “Korak could have been kind, but
he would not.”
A questioning expression entered the stranger’s eyes. He looked at the
girl closely.
“So Korak is an ape?” he said. “And what, pray, are you?”
“I am Meriem. I, also, am an ape.”
“M-m,” was the stranger’s only oral comment upon this startling
announcement; but what he thought might have been partially interpreted
through the pitying light that entered his eyes. He approached the girl
and started to lay his hand upon her forehead. She drew back with a
savage little growl. A smile touched his lips.
“You need not fear me,” he said. “I shall not harm you. I only wish to
discover if you have fever—if you are entirely well. If you are we will
set forth in search of Korak.”
Meriem looked straight into the keen gray eyes. She must have found
there an unquestionable assurance of the honorableness of their owner,
for she permitted him to lay his palm upon her forehead and feel her
pulse. Apparently she had no fever.
“How long have you been an ape?” asked the man.
“Since I was a little girl, many, many years ago, and Korak came and
took me from my father who was beating me. Since then I have lived in
the trees with Korak and A’ht.”
“Where in the jungle lives Korak?” asked the stranger.
Meriem pointed with a sweep of her hand that took in, generously, half
the continent of Africa.
“Could you find your way back to him?”
“I do not know,” she replied; “but he will find his way to me.”
“Then I have a plan,” said the stranger. “I live but a few marches from
here. I shall take you home where my wife will look after you and care
for you until we can find Korak or Korak finds us. If he could find you
here he can find you at my village. Is it not so?”
Meriem thought that it was so; but she did not like the idea of not
starting immediately back to meet Korak. On the other hand the man had
no intention of permitting this poor, insane child to wander further
amidst the dangers of the jungle. From whence she had come, or what she
had undergone he could not guess, but that her Korak and their life
among the apes was but a figment of a disordered mind he could not
doubt. He knew the jungle well, and he knew that men have lived alone
and naked among the savage beasts for years; but a frail and slender
girl! No, it was not possible.
Together they went outside. Malbihn’s boys were striking camp in
preparation for a hasty departure. The stranger’s blacks were
conversing with them. Malbihn stood at a distance, angry and glowering.
The stranger approached one of his own men.
“Find out where they got this girl,” he commanded.
The Negro thus addressed questioned one of Malbihn’s followers.
Presently he returned to his master.
“They bought her from old Kovudoo,” he said. “That is all that this
fellow will tell me. He pretends that he knows nothing more, and I
guess that he does not. These two white men were very bad men. They did
many things that their boys knew not the meanings of. It would be well,
Bwana, to kill the other.”
“I wish that I might; but a new law is come into this part of the
jungle. It is not as it was in the old days, Muviri,” replied the
master.
The stranger remained until Malbihn and his _safari_ had disappeared
into the jungle toward the north. Meriem, trustful now, stood at his
side, Geeka clutched in one slim, brown hand. They talked together, the
man wondering at the faltering Arabic of the girl, but attributing it
finally to her defective mentality. Could he have known that years had
elapsed since she had used it until she was taken by the Swedes he
would not have wondered that she had half forgotten it. There was yet
another reason why the language of The Sheik had thus readily eluded
her; but of that reason she herself could not have guessed the truth
any better than could the man.
He tried to persuade her to return with him to his “village” as he
called it, or _douar_, in Arabic; but she was insistent upon searching
immediately for Korak. As a last resort he determined to take her with
him by force rather than sacrifice her life to the insane hallucination
which haunted her; but, being a wise man, he determined to humor her
first and then attempt to lead her as he would have her go. So when
they took up their march it was in the direction of the south, though
his own ranch lay almost due east.
By degrees he turned the direction of their way more and more eastward,
and greatly was he pleased to note that the girl failed to discover
that any change was being made. Little by little she became more
trusting. At first she had had but her intuition to guide her belief
that this big Tarmangani meant her no harm, but as the days passed and
she saw that his kindness and consideration never faltered she came to
compare him with Korak, and to be very fond of him; but never did her
loyalty to her apeman flag.
On the fifth day they came suddenly upon a great plain and from the
edge of the forest the girl saw in the distance fenced fields and many
buildings. At the sight she drew back in astonishment.
“Where are we?” she asked, pointing.
“We could not find Korak,” replied the man, “and as our way led near my
_douar_ I have brought you here to wait and rest with my wife until my
men can find your ape, or he finds you. It is better thus, little one.
You will be safer with us, and you will be happier.”
“I am afraid, Bwana,” said the girl. “In thy _douar_ they will beat me
as did The Sheik, my father. Let me go back into the jungle. There
Korak will find me. He would not think to look for me in the _douar_ of
a white man.”
“No one will beat you, child,” replied the man. “I have not done so,
have I? Well, here all belong to me. They will treat you well. Here no
one is beaten. My wife will be very good to you, and at last Korak will
come, for I shall send men to search for him.”
The girl shook her head. “They could not bring him, for he would kill
them, as all men have tried to kill him. I am afraid. Let me go,
Bwana.”
“You do not know the way to your own country. You would be lost. The
leopards or the lions would get you the first night, and after all you
would not find your Korak. It is better that you stay with us. Did I
not save you from the bad man? Do you not owe me something for that?
Well, then remain with us for a few weeks at least until we can
determine what is best for you. You are only a little girl—it would be
wicked to permit you to go alone into the jungle.”
Meriem laughed. “The jungle,” she said, “is my father and my mother. It
has been kinder to me than have men. I am not afraid of the jungle. Nor
am I afraid of the leopard or the lion. When my time comes I shall die.
It may be that a leopard or a lion shall kill me, or it may be a tiny
bug no bigger than the end of my littlest finger. When the lion leaps
upon me, or the little bug stings me I shall be afraid—oh, then I shall
be terribly afraid, I know; but life would be very miserable indeed
were I to spend it in terror of the thing that has not yet happened. If
it be the lion my terror shall be short of life; but if it be the
little bug I may suffer for days before I die. And so I fear the lion
least of all. He is great and noisy. I can hear him, or see him, or
smell him in time to escape; but any moment I may place a hand or foot
on the little bug, and never know that he is there until I feel his
deadly sting. No, I do not fear the jungle. I love it. I should rather
die than leave it forever; but your _douar_ is close beside the jungle.
You have been good to me. I will do as you wish, and remain here for a
while to wait the coming of my Korak.”
“Good!” said the man, and he led the way down toward the flower-covered
bungalow behind which lay the barns and out-houses of a well-ordered
African farm.
As they came nearer a dozen dogs ran barking toward them—gaunt wolf
hounds, a huge great Dane, a nimble-footed collie and a number of
yapping, quarrelsome fox terriers. At first their appearance was savage
and unfriendly in the extreme; but once they recognized the foremost
black warriors, and the white man behind them their attitude underwent
a remarkable change. The collie and the fox terriers became frantic
with delirious joy, and while the wolf hounds and the great Dane were
not a whit less delighted at the return of their master their greetings
were of a more dignified nature. Each in turn sniffed at Meriem who
displayed not the slightest fear of any of them.
The wolf hounds bristled and growled at the scent of wild beasts that
clung to her garment; but when she laid her hand upon their heads and
her soft voice murmured caressingly they half-closed their eyes,
lifting their upper lips in contented canine smiles. The man was
watching them and he too smiled, for it was seldom that these savage
brutes took thus kindly to strangers. It was as though in some subtile
way the girl had breathed a message of kindred savagery to their savage
hearts.
With her slim fingers grasping the collar of a wolf hound upon either
side of her Meriem walked on toward the bungalow upon the porch of
which a woman dressed in white waved a welcome to her returning lord.
There was more fear in the girl’s eyes now than there had been in the
presence of strange men or savage beasts. She hesitated, turning an
appealing glance toward the man.
“This is my wife,” he said. “She will be glad to welcome you.”
The woman came down the path to meet them. The man kissed her, and
turning toward Meriem introduced them, speaking in the Arab tongue the
girl understood.
“This is Meriem, my dear,” he said, and he told the story of the jungle
waif in so far as he knew it.
Meriem saw that the woman was beautiful. She saw that sweetness and
goodness were stamped indelibly upon her countenance. She no longer
feared her, and when her brief story had been narrated and the woman
came and put her arms about her and kissed her and called her “poor
little darling” something snapped in Meriem’s little heart. She buried
her face on the bosom of this new friend in whose voice was the mother
tone that Meriem had not heard for so many years that she had forgotten
its very existence. She buried her face on the kindly bosom and wept as
she had not wept before in all her life—tears of relief and joy that
she could not fathom.
And so came Meriem, the savage little Mangani, out of her beloved
jungle into the midst of a home of culture and refinement. Already
“Bwana” and “My Dear,” as she first heard them called and continued to
call them, were as father and mother to her. Once her savage fears
allayed, she went to the opposite extreme of trustfulness and love. Now
she was willing to wait here until they found Korak, or Korak found
her. She did not give up that thought—Korak, her Korak always was
first.