As Jason Gridley leaped down the canyon side toward the lone warrior
who stood facing the attack of the tremendous reptile gliding swiftly
through the air from the top of the opposite cliff side, there flashed
upon the screen of his recollection the picture of a restoration of a
similar extinct reptile and he recognized the creature as a stegosaurus
of the Jurassic; but how inadequately had the picture that he had seen
carried to his mind the colossal proportions of the creature, or but
remotely suggested its terrifying aspect.
Jason saw the lone warrior standing there facing inevitable doom, but
in his attitude there was no outward sign of fear. In his right hand he
held his puny spear, and in his left his crude stone knife. He would
die, but he would give a good account of himself. There was no panic of
terror, no futile flight.
The distance between Jason and the stegosaurus was over great for a
revolver shot, but the American hoped that he might at least divert the
attention of the reptile from its prey and even, perhaps, frighten it
away by the unaccustomed sound of the report of the weapon, and so he
fired twice in rapid succession as he leaped downward toward the bottom
of the canyon. That at least one of the shots struck the reptile was
evidenced by the fact that it veered from its course, simultaneously
emitting a loud, screaming sound.
Attracted to Jason by the report of the revolver and evidently
attributing its hurt to this new enemy, the reptile, using its tail as
a rudder and tilting its spine plates up on one side, veered in the
direction of the American.
As the two shots shattered the silence of the canyon, the warrior
turned his eyes in the direction of the man leaping down the declivity
toward him, and then he saw the reptile veer in the direction of the
newcomer.
Heredity and training, coupled with experience, had taught this
primitive savage that every man's hand was against him, unless that
man was a member of his own tribe. Only upon a single occasion in his
life had experience controverted these teachings, and so it seemed
inconceivable that this stranger, whom he immediately recognized as
such, was deliberately risking his life in an effort to succor him;
yet there seemed no other explanation, and so the perplexed warrior,
instead of seeking to escape now that the attention of the reptile was
diverted from him, ran swiftly toward Jason to join forces with him in
combatting the attack of the creature.
From the instant that the stegosaurus had leaped from the summit of
the cliff, it had hurtled through the air with a speed which seemed
entirely out of proportion to its tremendous bulk, so that all that
had transpired in the meantime had occupied but a few moments of time,
and Jason Gridley found himself facing this onrushing death almost
before he had had time to speculate upon the possible results of his
venturesome interference.
With wide distended jaws and uttering piercing shrieks, the terrifying
creature shot toward him, but now at last it presented an easy target
and Jason Gridley was entirely competent to take advantage of the
altered situation.
He fired rapidly with both weapons, trying to reach the tiny brain, at
the location of which he could only guess and for which his bullets
were searching through the roof of the opened mouth. His greatest
hope, however, was that the beast could not for long face that
terrific fusillade of shots, and in this he was right. The strange and
terrifying sound and the pain and shock of the bullets tearing into its
skull proved too much for the stegosaurus. Scarcely half a dozen feet
from Gridley it swerved upward and passed over his head, receiving two
or three bullets in its belly as it did so.
Still shrieking with rage and pain it glided to the ground beyond him.
Almost immediately it turned to renew the attack. This time it came
upon its four feet, and Jason saw that it was likely to prove fully as
formidable upon the ground as it had been in the air, for considering
its tremendous bulk it moved with great agility and speed.
As he stood facing the returning creature, the warrior reached his side.
"Get on that side of him," said the warrior, "and I will attack him
on this. Keep out of the way of his tail. Use your spear; you cannot
frighten a dyrodor away by making a noise."
Jason Gridley leaped quickly to one side to obey the suggestions of the
warrior, smiling inwardly at the naïve suggestion of the other that his
Colt had been used solely to frighten the creature.
The warrior took his place upon the opposite side of the approaching
reptile, but before he had time to cast his spear or Jason to fire
again the creature stumbled forward, its nose dug into the ground and
it rolled over upon its side dead.
"It is dead!" said the warrior in a surprised tone. "What could have
killed it? Neither one of us has cast a spear."
Jason slipped his Colts into their holsters. "These killed it," he
said, tapping them.
"Noises do not kill," said the warrior skeptically. "It is not the bark
of the jalok or the growl of the ryth that rends the flesh of man. The
hiss of the thipdar kills no one."
"It was not the noise that killed it," said Jason, "but if you will
examine its head and especially the roof of its mouth you will see what
happened when my weapons spoke."
Following Jason's suggestion the warrior examined the head and mouth of
the dyrodor and when he had seen the gaping wounds he looked at Jason
with a new respect. "Who are you," he asked, "and what are you doing in
the land of Zoram?"
"My God!" exclaimed Jason. "Am I in Zoram?"
"You are."
"And you are one of the men of Zoram?" demanded the American.
"I am; but who are you?"
"Tell me, do you know Jana, The Red Flower of Zoram?" insisted Jason.
"What do you know of The Red Flower of Zoram, stranger?" demanded the
other. And then suddenly his eyes widened to a new thought. "Tell me,"
he cried, "by what name do they call you in the country from which you
come?"
"My name is Gridley," replied the American; "Jason Gridley."
"Jason!" exclaimed the other; "yes, Jason Gridley, that is it. Tell me,
man, where is The Red Flower of Zoram? What did you with her?"
"That is what I am asking you," said Jason. "We became separated and I
have been searching for her. But what do you know of me?"
"I followed you for a long time," replied the other, "but the waters
fell and obliterated your tracks."
"Why did you follow me?" asked Jason.
"I followed because you were with The Red Flower of Zoram," replied the
other. "I followed to kill you, but he said you would not harm her; he
said that she went with you willingly. Is that true?"
"She came with me willingly for a while," replied Jason, "and then she
left me; but I did not harm her."
"Perhaps he was right then," said the warrior. "I shall wait until I
find her and if you have not harmed her, I shall not kill you."
"Whom do you mean by 'he'?" asked Jason. "There is no one in Pellucidar
who could possibly know anything about me, except Jana."
"Do you not know Tarzan?" asked the warrior.
"Tarzan!" exclaimed Jason. "You have seen Tarzan? He is alive?"
"I saw him. We hunted together and we followed you and Jana, but he is
not alive now; he is dead."
"Dead! You are sure that he is dead?"
"Yes, he is dead."
"How did it happen?"
"We were crossing the summit of the mountains when he was seized by a
thipdar and carried away."
Tarzan dead! He had feared as much and yet now that he had proof it
seemed unbelievable. His mind could scarcely grasp the significance of
the words that he had heard as he recalled the strength and vitality of
that man of steel. It seemed incredible that that giant frame should
cease to pulsate with life; that those mighty muscles no longer rolled
beneath the sleek, bronzed hide; that that courageous heart no longer
beat.
"You were very fond of him?" asked the warrior, noticing the silence
and dejection of the other.
"Yes," said Jason.
"So was I," said the warrior; "but neither Tar-gash nor I could save
him, the thipdar struck so swiftly and was gone before we could cast a
weapon."
"Who is Tar-gash?" asked Jason.
"A Sagoth--one of the hairy men," replied the warrior. "They live in
the forest and are often used as warriors by the Mahars."
"And he was with you and Tarzan?" inquired Jason.
"Yes. They were together when I first saw them, but now Tarzan is dead
and Tar-gash has gone back to his own country and I must proceed upon
my search for The Red Flower of Zoram. You have saved my life, man
from another country, but I do not know that you have not harmed Jana.
Perhaps you have slain her. How am I to know? I do not know what I
should do."
"I, too, am looking for Jana," said Jason. "Let us look for her
together."
"Then if we find her, she shall tell me whether or not I shall kill
you," said the warrior.
Jason could not but recall how angry Jana had been with him. She had
almost killed him herself. Perhaps she would find it easier to permit
this warrior to kill him. Doubtless the man was her sweetheart and
if he knew the truth he would need no urging to destroy a rival, but
neither by look nor word did he reveal any apprehension as he replied.
"I will go with you," he said, "and if I have harmed The Red Flower of
Zoram you may kill me. What is your name?"
"Thoar," replied the warrior.
Jana had spoken of her brother to Jason, but if she had ever mentioned
his name, the American had forgotten it, and so he continued to think
that Thoar was the sweetheart and possibly the mate of The Red Flower
and his reaction to this belief was unpleasant; yet why it should have
been he could not have explained. The more he thought of the matter the
more certain he was that Thoar was Jana's mate, for who was there who
might more naturally desire to kill one who had wronged her. Yes, he
was sure that the man was Jana's mate. The thought made him angry for
she had certainly led him to believe that she was not mated. That was
just like a woman, he meditated; they were all flirts; they would make
a fool of a man merely to pass an idle hour, but she had not made a
fool of him. He had not fallen victim to her lures, that is why she had
been so angry--her vanity had been piqued--and being a very primitive
young person the first thought that had come to her mind had been to
kill him. What a little devil she was to try to get him to make love
to her when she already had a mate, and thus Jason almost succeeded
in working himself into a rage until his sense of humor came to his
rescue; yet even though he smiled, way down deep within him something
hurt and he wondered why.
"Where did you last see Jana?" asked Thoar. "We can return there and
try and locate her tracks."
"I do not know that I can explain," replied Jason. "It is very
difficult for me to locate myself or anything else where there are no
points of compass."
"We can start together at the point where we found your tracks with
Jana's," said Thoar.
"Perhaps that will not be necessary if you are familiar with the
country on the other side of the range," said Jason. "Returning
toward the mountains from the spot where I first saw Jana, there was
a tremendous gorge upon our left. It was toward this gorge that the
two men of the four that had been pursuing her ran after I had killed
two of their number. Jana tried to find a way to the summit, far to
the right of this gorge, but our path was blocked by a deep rift which
paralleled the base of the mountains, so that she was compelled to turn
back again toward the gorge, into which she descended. The last I saw
of her she was going up the gorge, so that if you know where this gorge
lies it will not be necessary for us to go all the way back to the
point at which I first met her."
"I know the gorge," said Thoar, "and if the two Phelians entered it it
is possible that they captured her. We will search in the direction of
the gorge then and if we do not find any trace of her, we shall drop
down to the country of the Phelians in the lowland."
Through a maze of jagged peaks Thoar led the way. To him time meant
nothing; to Jason Gridley it was little more than a memory. When they
found food they ate; when they were tired they slept, and always just
ahead there were perilous crags to skirt and stupendous cliffs to
scale. To the American it would have seemed incredible that a girl ever
could find her way here had he not had occasion to follow where The Red
Flower of Zoram led.
Occasionally they were forced to take a lower route which led into the
forests that climbed high along the slopes of the mountains, and here
they found more game and with Thoar's assistance Jason fashioned a
garment from the hide of a mountain goat. It was at best but a sketchy
garment; yet it sufficed for the purpose for which it was intended and
left his arms and legs free. Nor was it long before he realized its
advantages and wondered why civilized man of the outer crust should so
encumber himself with useless clothing, when the demands of temperature
did not require it.
As Jason became better acquainted with Thoar he found his regard for
him changing from suspicion to admiration, and finally to a genuine
liking for the savage Pellucidarian, in spite of the fact that this
sentiment was tinged with a feeling that, while not positive animosity,
was yet akin to it. It was difficult for Jason to fathom the sentiment
which seemed to animate him. There could be no rivalry between him and
this primitive warrior and yet Jason's whole demeanor and attitude
toward Thoar was such as might be scrupulously observed by any
honorable man toward an honorable opponent or rival.
They seldom, if ever, spoke of Jana; yet thoughts of her were uppermost
in the mind of each of them. Jason often found himself reviewing every
detail of his association with her; every little characteristic gesture
and expression was indelibly imprinted upon his memory, as were the
contours of her perfect figure and the radiant loveliness of her face.
Not even the bitter words with which she had parted with him could
erase the memory of her joyous comradeship. Never before in his life
had he missed the companionship of any woman. At times he tried to
crowd her from his thoughts by recalling incidents of his friendship
with Cynthia Furnois or Barbara Green, but the vision of The Red Flower
of Zoram remained persistently in the foreground, while that of Cynthia
and Barbara always faded gradually into forgetfulness.
This state of mental subjugation to the personality of an untutored
savage, however beautiful, annoyed his ego and he tried to escape it by
dwelling upon the sorrow entailed by the death of Tarzan; but somehow
he never could convince himself that Tarzan was dead. It was one of
those things that it was simply impossible to conceive.
Failing in this, he would seek to occupy his mind with conjectures
concerning the fate of Von Horst, Muviro and the Waziri warriors,
or upon what was transpiring aboard the great dirigible in search of
which his eyes were often scanning the cloudless Pellucidarian sky.
But travel where it would, even to his remote Tarzana hills in far off
California, it would always return to hover around the girlish figure
of The Red Flower of Zoram.
Thoar, upon his part, found in the American a companion after his own
heart--a dependable man of quiet ways, always ready to assume his share
of the burden and responsibilities of the savage trail they trod.
So the two came at last to the rim of the great gorge and though they
followed it up and down for a great distance in each direction they
found no trace of Jana, nor any sign that she had passed that way.
"We shall go down to the lowlands," said Thoar, "to the country that is
called Pheli and even though we may not find her, we shall avenge her."
The idea of primitive justice suggested by Thoar's decision aroused no
opposing question of ethics in the mind of the civilized American; in
fact, it seemed quite the most natural thing in the world that he and
Thoar should constitute themselves a court of justice as well as the
instrument of its punishment, for thus easily does man slough off the
thin veneer of civilization, which alone differentiates him from his
primitive ancestors.
Thus a gap of perhaps a hundred thousand years which yawned between
Thoar of Zoram, and Jason Gridley of Tarzana was closed. Imbued with
the same hatred, they descended the slopes of the Mountains of the
Thipdars toward the land of Pheli, and the heart of each was hot with
the lust to kill. No greedy munitions manufacturer was needed here to
start a war.
Down through stately forests and across rolling foothills went Thoar
and Jason toward the land of Pheli. The country teemed with game of
all descriptions and their way was beset by fierce carnivores, by
stupid, irritable herbivores of ponderous weight and short tempers or
by gigantic reptiles beneath whose charging feet the earth trembled. It
was by the exercise of the superior intelligence of man combined with
a considerable share of luck that they passed unscathed to the swamp
land where Pheli lies. Here the world seemed dedicated to the reptilia.
They swarmed in countless thousands and in all sizes and infinite
varieties. Aquatic and amphibious, carnivorous and herbivorous, they
hissed and screamed and fought and devoured one another constantly, so
that Jason wondered in what intervals they found the time to propagate
their kind and he marvelled that the herbivores among them could
exist at all. A terrific orgy of extermination seemed to constitute
the entire existence of a large proportion of the species and yet the
tremendous size of many of them, including several varieties of the
herbivores, furnished ample evidence that considerable numbers of them
lived to a great age, for unlike mammals, reptiles never cease to grow
while they are living.
The swamp, in which Thoar believed the villages of the Phelians were
to be found, supported a tremendous forest of gigantic trees and so
interlaced were their branches that oftentimes the two men found it
expedient to travel among them rather than upon the treacherous,
boggy ground. Here, too, the reptiles were smaller, though scarcely
less numerous. Among these, however, there were exceptions, and those
which caused them the greatest anxiety were snakes of such titanic
proportions that when he first encountered one Jason could not believe
the testimony of his own eyes. They came upon the creature suddenly as
it was in the act of swallowing a trachodon that was almost as large as
an elephant. The huge herbivorous dinosaur was still alive and battling
bravely to extricate itself from the jaws of the serpent, but not even
its giant strength nor its terrific armament of teeth, which included
a reserve supply of over four hundred in the lower jaw alone, availed
it in its unequal struggle with the colossal creature that was slowly
swallowing it alive.
Perhaps it was their diminutive size as much as their brains or luck
that saved the two men from the jaws of these horrid creatures. Or,
again, it may have been the dense stupidity of the reptiles themselves,
which made it comparatively easy for the men to elude them.
Here in this dismal swamp of horrors not even the giant tarags or the
equally ferocious lions and leopards of Pellucidar dared venture, and
how man existed there it was beyond the power of Jason to conceive. In
fact he doubted that the Phelians or any other race of men made their
homes here. "Men could not exist in such a place," he said to Thoar.
"Pheli must lie elsewhere."
"No," said his companion, "members of my tribe have come down here more
than once in the memory of man to avenge the stealing of a woman and
the stories that they have brought back have familiarized us all with
the conditions existing in the land of Pheli. This is indeed it."
"You may be right," said Jason, "but, like these snakes that we have
seen, I shall have to see the villages of the Phelians before I will
believe that they exist here and even then I won't know whether to
believe it or not."
"It will not be long now," said Thoar, "before you shall see the
Phelians in their own village."
"What makes you think so?" asked Jason.
"Look down below you and you will see what I have been searching for,"
replied Thoar, pointing.
Jason did as he was bid and discovered a small stream meandering
through the swamp. "I see nothing but a brook," he said.
"That is what I have been searching for," replied Thoar. "All of my
people who have been here say that Phelians live upon the banks of a
river that runs through the swamp. In places the land is high and upon
these hills the Phelians build their homes. They do not live in caverns
as do we, but they make houses of great trees so strong that not even
the largest reptiles can break into them."
"But why should anyone choose to live in such a place?" demanded the
American.
"Ta eat and to breed in comparative peace and contentment," replied
Thoar. "The Phelians, unlike the mountain people, are not a race of
warriors. They do not like to fight and so they have hidden their
villages away in this swamp where no man would care to come and thus
they are practically free from human enemies. Also, here, meat abounds
in such quantities that food lies always at their doors. For them then
the conditions are ideal and here, more than elsewhere in Pellucidar,
may they find contentment."
As they advanced now they exercised the greatest caution, knowing
that any moment they might come within sight of a Phelian village.
Nor was it long before Thoar halted and drew back behind the bole
of a tree through which they were passing, then he pointed forward.
Jason, looking, saw a bare hill before them, just a portion of which
was visible through the trees. It was evident that the hill had been
cleared by man, for many stumps remained. Within the range of his
vision was but a single house, if such it might be called.
It was constructed of logs, a foot or two in diameter. Three or four of
these logs, placed horizontally and lying one upon the other, formed
the wall that was presented to Jason's view. The other side wall
paralleled it at a distance of five or six feet, and across the top of
the upper logs were laid sections of smaller trees, about six inches in
diameter, and placed not more than a foot apart. These supported the
roof, which consisted of several logs, a little longer than the logs
constituting the walls. The roof logs were laid close together, the
interstices being filled with mud. The front of the building was formed
by shorter logs set upright in the ground, a single small aperture
being left to form a doorway. But the most noticeable feature of
Phelian architecture consisted of long pointed stakes, which protruded
diagonally from the ground at an angle of about forty-five degrees,
pointing outward from the base of the walls entirely around the
building at intervals of about eighteen inches. The stakes themselves
were six or eight inches in diameter and about ten feet long, being
sharpened at the upper end, and forming a barrier against which few
creatures, however brainless they might be, would venture to hurl
themselves.
Drawing closer the two men had a better view of the village, which
contained upon that side of the hill they were approaching and upon the
top four buildings similar to that which they had first discovered.
Close about the base of the hill grew the dense forest, but the hill
itself had been entirely denuded of vegetation so that nothing, either
large or small, could approach the habitation of the Phelians without
being discovered.
No one was in sight about the village, but that did not deceive Thoar,
who guessed that anything which transpired upon the hillside would be
witnessed by many eyes peering through the openings between the wall
logs from the dim interiors of the long buildings, beneath whose low
ceilings Phelians must spend their lives either squatting or lying
down, since there was not sufficient headroom to permit an adult to
stand erect.
"Well," said Jason, "here we are. Now, what are we going to do?"
Thoar looked longingly at Jason's two Colts. "You have refused to use
those for fear of wasting the deaths which they spit from their blue
mouths," he said, "but with one of those we might soon find Jana if she
was here or quickly avenge her if she is not."
"Come on then," said Jason. "I would sacrifice more than my ammunition
for The Red Flower of Zoram." As he spoke he descended from the tree
and started toward the nearest Phelian dwelling. Close behind him was
Thoar and neither saw the eyes that watched them from among the trees
that grew thickly upon the river side of the hill--cruel eyes that
gleamed from whiskered faces.