Tar-Gash and Thoar looked with wonder upon the wreckage of the plane
and Tarzan hastily searched it for the body of the pilot. The ape-man
experienced at least temporary relief when he discovered that there
was no body there, and a moment later he found footprints in the turf
upon the opposite side of the plane--the prints of a booted foot which
he recognized immediately as having been made by Jason Gridley--and
this evidence assured him that the American had not been killed and
apparently not even badly injured by the fall. And then he discovered
something else which puzzled him exceedingly. Mingling with the
footprints of Gridley and evidently made at the same time were those of
a small sandaled foot.
A further brief examination revealed the fact that two persons, one
of them Gridley and the other apparently a female or a youth of some
Pellucidarian tribe, who had accompanied him, had approached the plane
after it had crashed, remained in its vicinity for a short time and
then returned in the direction from which they had come. With the spoor
plain before him there was nothing for Tarzan to do other than to
follow it.
The evidence so far suggested that Gridley had been forced to abandon
the plane in air and that he had safely made a parachute descent, but
where and under what circumstances he had picked up his companion,
Tarzan could not even hazard a guess.
He found it difficult to get Thoar away from the aeroplane, the strange
thing having so fired his curiosity and imagination that he must need
remain near it and ask a hundred questions concerning it.
With Tar-Gash, however, the reaction was entirely different. He had
glanced at it with only a faint show of curiosity or interest, and
then he had asked one question, "What is it?"
"This is the thing that passed over us and which you said was a flying
reptile," replied Tarzan. "I told you at that time that one of my
friends was in it. Something happened and the thing fell, but my friend
escaped without injury."
"It has no eyes," said Tar-gash. "How could it see to fly?"
"It was not alive," replied Tarzan.
"I heard it growl," said the Sagoth; nor was he ever convinced that the
thing was not some strange form of living creature.
They had covered but a short distance along the trail made by Gridley
and Jana, after they had left the aeroplane, when they came upon the
carcass of a huge pteranodon. Its head was crushed and battered and
almost severed from its body and a splinter of smooth wood projected
from its skull--a splinter that Tarzan recognized as a fragment of an
aeroplane propeller--and instantly he knew the cause of Gridley's crash.
Half a mile further on the three discovered further evidence, some of
it quite startling. An opened parachute lay stretched upon the ground
where it had fallen and at short distances from it lay the bodies of
four hyaenodons and two hairy men.
An examination of the bodies revealed the fact that both of the men and
two of the hyaenodons had died from bullet wounds. Everywhere upon the
trampled turf appeared the imprints of the small sandals of Jason's
companion. It was evident to the keen eyes of Tarzan that two other
men, both natives, had taken part in the battle which had been waged
here. That they were of the same tribe as the two that had fallen was
evidenced by the imprints of their sandals, which were of identical
make, while those of Tarzan's companion differed materially from all
the others.
As he circled about, searching for further evidence, he saw that the
two men who had escaped had run rapidly for some distance toward the
mouth of a large canyon, and that, apparently following their retreat,
Jason and his companion had set out in search of the plane. Later they
had returned to the scene of the battle, and when they had departed
they also had gone toward the mountains, but along a line considerably
to the right of the trail made by the fleeing natives.
Thoar, too, was much interested in the various tracks that the
participants in the battle by the parachute had left, but he said
nothing until after Tarzan had completed his investigation.
"There were four men and either a woman or a youth here with my
friend," said Tarzan.
"Four of them were low countrymen from Pheli," said Thoar, "and the
other was a woman of Zoram."
"How do you know?" asked Tarzan, who was always anxious to add to his
store of woodcraft.
"The low-country sandals are never shaped to the foot as closely as are
those of the mountain tribes," replied Thoar, "and the soles are much
thinner, being made usually of the hides of the thag, which is tough
enough for people who do not walk often upon anything but soft grasses
or in soggy marshland. The sandals of the mountain tribes are soled
with the thick hide of Maj, the cousin of Tandor. If you will look at
the spoor you will see that they are not worn at all, while there are
holes in the sandals of these dead men of Pheli."
"Are we near Zoram?" asked Tarzan.
"No," replied Thoar. "It lies across the highest range ahead of us."
"When we first met, Thoar, you told me that you were from Zoram."
"Yes, that is my country," replied Thoar.
"Then, perhaps, this woman is someone whom you know?"
"She is my sister," replied Thoar.
Tarzan of the Apes looked at him in surprise. "How do you know?" he
demanded.
"I found an imprint where there was no turf, only soft earth, and there
the spoor was so distinct that I could recognize the sandals as hers.
So familiar with her work am I that I could recognize the stitching
alone, where the sole is joined to the upper part of the sandal, and in
addition there are the notches, which indicate the tribe. The people
of Zoram have three notches in the underside of the sole at the toe of
the left sandal."
"What was your sister doing so far from her own country and how is it
that she is with my friend?"
"It is quite plain," replied Thoar. "These men of Pheli sought to
capture her. One of them wanted her for his mate, but she eluded them
and they pursued her across the Mountains of the Thipdars and down
into this valley, where she was set upon by jaloks. The man from your
country came and killed the jaloks and two of the Phelians and drove
the other two away. It is evident that my sister could not escape him,
and he captured her."
Tarzan of the Apes smiled. "The spoor does not indicate that she ever
made any effort to escape him," he said.
Thoar scratched his head. "That is true," he replied, "and I cannot
understand it, for the women of my tribe do not care to mate with the
men of other tribes and I know that Jana, my sister, would rather die
than mate outside the Mountains of the Thipdars. Many times has she
said so and Jana is not given to idle talk."
"My friend would not take her by force," said Tarzan. "If she has gone
with him, she has gone with him willingly. And I think that when we
find them you will discover that he is simply accompanying her back to
Zoram, for he is the sort of man who would not permit a woman to go
alone and unprotected."
"We shall see," said Thoar, "but if he has taken Jana against her
wishes, he must die."
As Tarzan, Tar-gash and Thoar followed the spoor of Jason and Jana a
disheartened company of men rounded the end of the great Mountains of
the Thipdars, fifty miles to the east of them, and entered the Gyor
Cors, or great Plains of the Gyors.
The party consisted of ten black warriors and a white man, and,
doubtless, never in the history of mankind had eleven men been more
completely and hopelessly lost than these.
Muviro and his warriors, than whom no better trackers ever lived, were
totally bewildered by their inability even to back-track successfully.
The stampeding of the maddened beasts, from which they had barely
escaped with their lives and then only by what appeared nothing short
of a miracle, had so obliterated all signs of the party's former spoor
that though they were all confident that they had gone but a short
distance from the clearing, into which the beasts had been herded by
the tarags, they had never again been able to locate the clearing, and
now they were wandering hopelessly and, in accordance with Von Horst's
plans, keeping as much in the open as possible in the hope that the
cruising O-220 might thus discover them, for Von Horst was positive
that eventually his companions would undertake a search for them.
Aboard the O-220 the grave fear that had been entertained for the
safety of the thirteen missing members of the ship's company had
developed into a conviction of disaster when Gridley failed to return
within the limit of the time that he might reasonably be able to keep
the scout plane in the air.
Then it was that Zuppner had sent Dorf out with another searching
party, but at the end of seventy hours they had returned to report
absolute failure. They had followed the trail to a clearing where
jackals fed upon rotting carrion, but beyond this there was no sign of
spoor to suggest in what direction their fellows had wandered.
Going and coming they had been beset by savage beasts and so ruthless
and determined had been the attacks of the giant tarags that Dorf
reported to Zuppner that he was confident that all of the missing
members of the party must by this time have been destroyed by these
great cats.
"Until we have proof of that, we must not give up hope," replied
Zuppner, "nor may we relinquish our efforts to find them, whether dead
or alive, and that we cannot do by remaining here."
There was nothing now to delay the start. While the motors were warming
up, the anchor was drawn in and the air expelled from the lower vacuum
tanks. As the giant ship rose from the ground Robert Jones jotted down
a brief note in a greasy memorandum book: "We sailed from here at
noon."
When Skruk and his companion had left the field to the victorious
Jason, the latter had returned his six-gun to its holster and faced the
girl. "Well," he inquired, "what now?"
She shook her head. "I cannot understand you," she said. "You do not
speak the language of gilaks."
Jason scratched his head. "That being the case," he said, "and as it is
evident that we are never going to get anywhere on conversation which
neither one of us understands, I am going to have a look around for my
ship, in the meantime, praying to all the gods that my thirty-thirty
and ammunition are safe. It's a cinch that she did not burn for she
must have fallen close by and I could have seen the smoke."
Jana listened attentively and shook her head.
"Come on," said Jason, and started off in the direction that he thought
the ship might lie.
"No, not that way," exclaimed Jana, and running forward she seized
his arm and tried to stop him, pointing back to the tall peaks of the
Mountains of the Thipdars, where Zoram lay.
Jason essayed the difficult feat of explaining in a weird sign language
of his own invention that he was looking for an aeroplane that had
crashed somewhere in the vicinity, but the conviction soon claimed him
that that would be a very difficult thing to accomplish even if the
person to whom he was trying to convey the idea knew what an aeroplane
was, and so he ended up by grinning good-naturedly, and, seizing the
girl by the hand, gently leading her in the direction he wished to go.
Again that charming smile disarmed The Red Flower of Zoram and though
she knew that this stranger was leading her away from the caverns of
her people, yet she followed docilely, though her brow was puckered in
perplexity as she tried to understand why she was not afraid, or why
she was willing to go with this stranger, who evidently was not even a
gilak, since he could not speak the language of men.
A half hour's search was rewarded by the discovery of the wreck of the
plane, which had suffered far less damage than Jason had expected.
It was evident that in its plunge to earth it must have straightened
out and glided to a landing. Of course, it was wrecked beyond repair,
even if there had been any facilities for repairs, but it had not
burned and Jason recovered his thirty-thirty and all his ammunition.
Jana was intensely interested in the plane and examined every portion
of it minutely. Never in her life had she wished so much to ask
questions, for never in her life had she seen anything that had so
aroused her wonder. And here was the one person in all the world who
could answer her questions, but she could not make him understand one
of them. For a moment she almost hated him, and then he smiled at her
and pressed her hand, and she forgave him and smiled back.
"And now," said Jason, "where do we go from here? As far as I am
concerned one place is as good as another."
Being perfectly well aware that he was hopelessly lost, Jason Gridley
felt that the only chance he had of being reunited with his companions
lay in the possibility that the O-220 might chance to cruise over
the very locality where he happened to be, and no matter whither he
might wander, whether north or south or east or west, that chance
was as slender in one direction as another, and, conversely, equally
good. In an hour the O-220 would cover a distance fully as great as
he could travel in several days of outer earthly time. And so even
if he chanced to be moving in a direction that led away from the
ship's first anchorage, he could never go so far that it might not
easily and quickly overtake him, if its search should chance to lead
it in his direction. Therefore he turned questioningly to the girl,
pointing first in one direction, and then in another, while he looked
inquiringly at her, attempting thus to convey to her the idea that
he was ready and willing to go in any direction she chose, and Jana,
sensing his meaning, pointed toward the lofty Mountains of the Thipdars.
"There," she said, "lies Zoram, the land of my people."
"Your logic is unassailable," said Jason, "and I only wish I could
understand what you are saying, for I am sure that anyone with such
beautiful teeth could never be uninteresting."
Jana did not wait to discuss the matter, but started forthwith for
Zoram and beside her walked Jason Gridley of California.
Jana's active mind had been working rapidly and she had come to the
conclusion that she could not for long endure the constantly increasing
pressure of unsatisfied curiosity. She must find some means of
communicating with this interesting stranger and to the accomplishment
of this end she could conceive of no better plan than teaching the
man her language. But how to commence! Never in her experience or
that of her people had the necessity arisen for teaching a language.
Previously she had not dreamed of the existence of such a means. If you
can feature such a state, which is doubtful, you must concede to this
primitive girl of the stone age a high degree of intelligence. This was
no accidental blowing off of the lid of the teapot upon which might be
built a theory. It required, as a matter of fact, a greater reasoning
ability. Give a steam engine to a man who had never heard of steam and
ask him to make it go--Jana's problem was almost as difficult. But the
magnitude of the reward spurred her on, for what will one not do to
have one's curiosity satisfied, especially if one happens to be a young
and beautiful girl and the object of one's curiosity an exceptionally
handsome young man. Skirts may change, but human nature never.
And so The Red Flower of Zoram pointed at herself with a slim, brown
forefinger and said, "Jana." She repeated this several times and then
she pointed at Jason, raising her eyebrows in interrogation.
"Jason," he said, for there was no misunderstanding her meaning. And
so the slow, laborious task began as the two trudged upward toward the
foothills of the Mountains of the Thipdars.
There lay before them a long, hard climb to the higher altitudes, but
there was water in abundance in the tumbling brooks, dropping down the
hillside, and Jana knew the edible plants, and nuts, and fruits which
grew in riotous profusion in many a dark, deep ravine, and there was
game in plenty to be brought down, when they needed meat, by Jason's
thirty-thirty.
As they proceeded in their quest for Zoram, Jason found greater
opportunity to study his companion and he came to the conclusion
that nature had attained the pinnacle of physical perfection with
the production of this little savage. Every line and curve of that
lithe, brown body sang of symmetry, for The Red Flower of Zoram was a
living poem of beauty. If he had thought that her teeth were beautiful
he was forced to admit that they held no advantage in that respect
over her eyes, her nose or any other of her features. And when she
fell to with her crude stone knife and helped him skin a kill and
prepare the meat for cooking, when he saw the deftness and celerity
with which she made fire with the simplest and most primitive of
utensils, when he witnessed the almost uncanny certitude with which
she located nests of eggs and edible fruit and vegetables, he was
conscious that her perfections were not alone physical and he became
more than ever anxious to acquire a sufficient understanding of her
tongue to be able to communicate with her, though he realized that
he might doubtless suffer a rude awakening and disillusionment when,
through an understanding of her language, he might be able to judge the
limitations of her mind.
When Jana was tired she went beneath a tree, and, making a bed of
grasses, curled up and fell asleep immediately, and, while she slept,
Gridley watched, for the dangers of this primitive land were numerous
and constant. Fully as often as he shot for food he shot to protect
them from some terrible beast, until the encounters became as prosaic
and commonplace as does the constant eluding of death by pedestrians at
congested traffic corners in cities of the outer crust.
When Jason felt the need of sleep, Jana watched and sometimes they
merely rested without sleeping, usually beneath a tree for there they
found the greatest protection from their greatest danger, the fierce
and voracious thipdars from which the mountains took their name. These
hideous, flying reptiles were a constant menace, but so thoroughly had
nature developed a defense against them that the girl could hear their
wings at a greater distance than either of them could see the creatures.
Jason had no means for determining how far they had travelled, or how
long they had been upon their way, but he was sure that considerable
outer earthly time must have elapsed since he had met the girl, when
they came to a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, for already he had
made considerable progress toward mastering her tongue and they were
exchanging short sentences, much to Jana's delight, her merry laughter,
often marking one of Jason's more flagrant errors in pronunciation or
construction.
And now they had come to a deep chasm with overhanging walls that not
even Jana could negotiate. To Jason it resembled a stupendous fault
that might have been caused by the subsidence of the mountain range for
it paralleled the main axis of the range. And if this were true he knew
that it might extend for hundreds of miles, effectually barring the way
across the mountains by the route they were following.
For a long time Jana sought a means of descent into the crevice.
She did not want to turn to the left as that route might lead her
eventually back to the canyon that she had descended when pursued by
Skruk and his fellows and she well knew how almost unscalable were the
perpendicular sides of this terrific gorge. Another thing, perhaps,
which decided her against the left hand route was the possibility that
in that direction they might again come in contact with the Phelians,
and so she led Jason toward the right and always she searched for a way
to the bottom of the rift.
Jason realized that they were consuming a great deal of time in trying
to cross, but he became also aware of the fact that time meant nothing
in timeless Pellucidar. It was never a factor with which to reckon
for the excellent reason that it did not exist, and when he gave the
matter thought he was conscious of a mild surprise that he, who had
been always a slave of time, so easily and naturally embraced the
irresponsible existence of Pellucidar. It was not only the fact that
time itself seemed not to matter but that the absence of this greatest
of all task masters singularly affected one's outlook upon every
other consideration of existence. Without time there appeared to be
no accountability for one's acts since it is to the future that the
slaves of time have learned to look for their reward or punishment.
Where there is no time, there is no future. Jason Gridley found
himself affected much as Tarzan had been in that the sense of his
responsibility for the welfare of his fellows seemed deadened. What had
happened to them had happened and no act of his could alter it. They
were not there with him and so he could not be of assistance to them,
and as it was difficult to visualize the future beneath an eternal
noonday sun how might one plan ahead for others or for himself?
Jason Gridley gave up the riddle with a shake of his head and found
solace in contemplation of the profile of The Red Flower of Zoram.
"Why do you look at me so much?" demanded the girl; for by now they
could make themselves understood to one another.
Jason Gridley flushed slightly and looked quickly away. Her question
had been very abrupt and surprising and for the first time he realized
that he had been looking at her a great deal. He started to answer,
hesitated and stopped. Why _had_ he been looking at her so much?
It seemed silly to say that it was because she was beautiful.
"Why do you not say it, Jason?" she inquired.
"Say what?" he demanded.
"Say the thing that is in your eyes when you look at me," she replied.
Gridley looked at her in astonishment. No one but an imbecile could
have misunderstood her meaning, and Jason Gridley was no imbecile.
Could it be possible that he had been looking at her _that_ way?
Had he gone stark mad that he was even subconsciously entertaining such
thoughts of this little barbarian who seized her meat in both hands and
tore pieces from it with her flashing, white teeth, who went almost as
naked as the beasts of the field and with all their unconsciousness of
modesty? Could it be that his eyes had told this untutored savage that
he was harboring thoughts of love for her? The artificialities of a
thousand years of civilization rose up in horror against such a thought.
Upon the screen of his memory there was flashed a picture of the
haughty Cynthia Furnois of Hollywood, daughter of the famous director,
Abelard Furnois, né Abe Fink. He recalled Cynthia's meticulous
observance of the minutest details of social usages and the studied
perfection of her deportment that had sometimes awed him. He saw, too,
the aristocratic features of Barbara Green, daughter of old John Green,
the Los Angeles realtor, from Texas. It is true that old John was no
purist and that his total disregard of the social precedence of forks
often shocked the finer sensibilities that Mrs. Green and Barbara had
laboriously achieved in the universities of Montmarte and Cocoanut
Grove, but Barbara had had two years at Marlborough and knew her
suffixes and her hardware.
Of course Cynthia was a rotten little snob, not only on the surface
but to the bottom of her shallow, selfish soul, while Barbara's
snobbishness, he felt, was purely artificial, the result of mistaking
for the genuine the silly artificialities and affectations of the
almost celebrities and sudden rich that infest the public places of
Hollywood.
But nevertheless these two did, after a fashion, reflect the social
environment to which he was accustomed and as he tried to answer Jana's
question he could not but picture her seated at dinner with a company
made up of such as these. Of course, Jana was a bully companion upon
an adventure such as that in which they were engaged, but modern man
cannot go adventuring forever in the Stone Age. If his eyes had carried
any other message to Jana than that of friendly comradeship he felt
sorry, for he realized that in fairness to her, as well as to himself,
there could never be anything more than this between them.
As Jason hesitated for a reply, the eyes of The Red Flower of Zoram
searched his soul and slowly the half expectant smile faded from her
lips. Perhaps she was a savage little barbarian of the Stone Age, but
she was no fool and she was a woman.
Slowly she drew her slender figure erect as she turned away from him
and started back along the rim of the rift toward the great gorge
through which she had descended from the higher peaks when Skruk and
his fellows had been pursuing her.
"Jana," he exclaimed, "don't be angry. Where are you going?"
She stopped and with her haughty little chin in air turned a withering
look back upon him across a perfect shoulder. "Go your way, jalok," she
said, "and Jana will go hers."