sound of the movement of some animal in the jungle a short distance to
his right and away from the river. His experience with men had taught
him to be wary, for it was evident that every man’s hand was against
him, so he determined to learn at once whether the noise he heard came
from some human enemy lurking along his trail ready to spring upon him
with naked parang at a moment that he was least prepared, or merely
from some jungle brute.
Cautiously he threaded his way through the matted vegetation in the
direction of the sound. Although a parang from the body of a vanquished
Dyak hung at his side he grasped his bull whip ready in his right hand,
preferring it to the less accustomed weapon of the head hunter. For a
dozen yards he advanced without sighting the object of his search, but
presently his efforts were rewarded by a glimpse of a reddish, hairy
body, and a pair of close set, wicked eyes peering at him from behind a
giant tree.
At the same instant a slight movement at one side attracted his
attention to where another similar figure crouched in the underbrush,
and then a third, fourth and fifth became evident about him. Bulan
looked in wonderment upon the strange, man-like creatures who eyed him
threateningly from every hand. They stood fully as high as the brown
Dyak warriors, but their bodies were naked except for the growth of
reddish hair which covered them, shading to black upon the face and
hands.
The lips of the nearest were raised in an angry snarl that exposed
wicked looking fighting fangs, but the beasts did not seem inclined to
initiate hostilities, and as they were unarmed and evidently but
engaged upon their own affairs Bulan decided to withdraw without
arousing them further. As he turned to retrace his steps he found his
three companions gazing in wide-eyed astonishment upon the strange new
creatures which confronted them.
Number Ten was grinning broadly, while Number Three advanced cautiously
toward one of the creatures, making a low guttural noise, that could
only be interpreted as peaceful and conciliatory—more like a feline
purr it was than anything else.
“What are you doing?” cried Bulan. “Leave them alone. They have not
offered to harm us.”
“They are like us,” replied Number Three. “They must be our own people.
I am going with them.”
“And I,” said Number Ten.
“And I,” echoed Number Twelve. “At last we have found our own, let us
all go with them and live with them, far away from the men who would
beat us with great whips, and cut us with their sharp swords.”
“They are not human beings,” exclaimed Bulan. “We cannot live with
them.”
“Neither are we human beings,” retorted Number Twelve. “Has not von
Horn told us so many times?”
“If I am not now a human being,” replied Bulan, “I intend to be one,
and so I shall act as a human being should act. I shall not go to live
with savage beasts, nor shall you. Come with me as I tell you, or you
shall again taste the bull whip.”
“We shall do as we please,” growled Number Ten, baring his fangs. “You
are not our master. We have followed you as long as we intend to. We
are tired of forever walking, walking, walking through the bushes that
tear our flesh and hurt us. Go and be a human being if you think you
can, but do not longer interfere with us or we shall kill you,” and he
looked first at Number Three and then at Number Twelve for approval of
his ultimatum.
Number Three nodded his grotesque and hideous head—he was so covered
with long black hair that he more nearly resembled an ourang outang
than a human being. Number Twelve looked doubtful.
“I think Number Ten is right,” he said at last. “We are not human. We
have no souls. We are things. And while you, Bulan, are beautiful, yet
you are as much a soulless thing as we—that much von Horn taught us
well. So I believe that it would be better were we to keep forever from
the sight of men. I do not much like the thought of living with these
strange, hairy monsters, but we might find a place here in the jungle
where we could live alone and in peace.”
“I do not want to live alone,” cried Number Three. “I want a mate, and
I see a beautiful one yonder now. I am going after her,” and with that
he again started toward a female ourang outang; but the lady bared her
fangs and retreated before his advance.
“Even the beasts will have none of us,” cried Number Ten angrily. “Let
us take them by force then,” and he started after Number Three.
“Come back!” shouted Bulan, leaping after the two deserters.
As he raised his voice there came an answering cry from a little
distance ahead—a cry for help, and it was in the agonized tones of a
woman’s voice.
“I am coming!” shouted Bulan, and without another glance at his
mutinous crew he sprang through the line of menacing ourang outangs.
12
PERFIDY
On the morning that Bulan set out with his three monsters from the
deserted long-house in which they had spent the night, Professor
Maxon’s party was speeding up the river, constantly buoyed with hope by
the repeated reports of natives that the white girl had been seen
passing in a war prahu.
In translating this information to Professor Maxon, von Horn habitually
made it appear that the girl was in the hands of Number Thirteen, or
Bulan, as they had now come to call him owing to the natives’ constant
use of that name in speaking of the strange, and formidable white giant
who had invaded their land.
At the last long-house below the gorge, the head of which had witnessed
Virginia Maxon’s escape from the clutches of Ninaka and Barunda, the
searching party was forced to stop owing to a sudden attack of fever
which had prostrated the professor. Here they found a woman who had a
strange tale to relate of a remarkable sight she had witnessed that
very morning.
It seemed that she had been straining tapioca in a little stream which
flowed out of the jungle at the rear of the long-house when her
attention was attracted by the crashing of an animal through the bushes
a few yards above her. As she looked she saw a huge _Mias Pappan_ cross
the stream, bearing in his arms the dead, or unconscious form of a
white-skinned girl with golden hair.
Her description of the _Mias Pappan_ was such as to half convince von
Horn that she might have seen Number Three carrying Virginia Maxon,
although he could not reconcile the idea with the story that the two
Dyaks had told him of losing all of Bulan’s monsters in the jungle.
Of course it was possible that they might have made their way over land
to this point, but it seemed scarcely credible—and then, how could they
have come into possession of Virginia Maxon, whom every report except
this last agreed was still in the hands of Ninaka and Barunda. There
was always the possibility that the natives had lied to him, and the
more he questioned the Dyak woman the more firmly convinced he became
that this was the fact.
The outcome of it was that von Horn finally decided to make an attempt
to follow the trail of the creature that the woman had seen, and with
this plan in view persuaded Muda Saffir to arrange with the chief of
the long-house at which they then were to furnish him with trackers and
an escort of warriors, promising them some splendid heads should they
be successful in overhauling Bulan and his pack.
Professor Maxon was too ill to accompany the expedition, and von Horn
set out alone with his Dyak allies. For a time after they departed Sing
Lee fretted and fidgeted upon the verandah of the long-house. He wholly
distrusted von Horn, and from motives of his own finally decided to
follow him. The trail of the party was plainly discernible, and the
Chinaman had no difficulty in following them, so that they had gone no
great way before he came within hearing distance of them. Always just
far enough behind to be out of sight, he kept pace with the little
column as it marched through the torrid heat of the morning, until a
little after noon he was startled by the sudden cry of a woman in
distress, and the answering shout of a man.
The voices came from a point in the jungle a little to his right and
behind him, and without waiting for the column to return, or even to
ascertain if they had heard the cries, Sing ran rapidly in the
direction of the alarm. For a time he saw nothing, but was guided by
the snapping of twigs and the rustling of bushes ahead, where the
authors of the commotion were evidently moving swiftly through the
jungle.
Presently a strange sight burst upon his astonished vision. It was the
hideous Number Three in mad pursuit of a female ourang outang, and an
instant later he saw Number Twelve and Number Ten in battle with two
males, while beyond he heard the voice of a man shouting encouragement
to some one as he dashed through the jungle. It was in this last event
that Sing’s interest centered, for he was sure that he recognized the
voice as that of Bulan, while the first cry for help which he had heard
had been in a woman’s voice, and Sing knew that its author could be
none other than Virginia Maxon.
Those whom he pursued were moving rapidly through the jungle which was
now becoming more and more open, but the Chinaman was no mean runner,
and it was not long before he drew within sight of the object of his
pursuit.
His first glimpse was of Bulan, running swiftly between two huge bull
ourang outangs that snapped and tore at him as he bounded forward
cutting and slashing at his foes with his heavy whip. Just in front of
the trio was another bull bearing in his arms the unconscious form of
Virginia Maxon who had fainted at the first response to her cry for
help. Sing was armed with a heavy revolver but he dared not attempt to
use it for fear that he might wound either Bulan or the girl, and so he
was forced to remain but a passive spectator of what ensued.
Bulan, notwithstanding the running battle the two bulls were forcing
upon him, was gaining steadily upon the fleeing ourang outang that was
handicapped by the weight of the fair captive he bore in his huge,
hairy arms. As they came into a natural clearing in the jungle the
fleeing bull glanced back to see his pursuer almost upon him, and with
an angry roar turned to meet the charge.
In another instant Bulan and the three bulls were rolling and tumbling
about the ground, a mass of flying fur and blood from which rose fierce
and angry roars and growls, while Virginia Maxon lay quietly upon the
sward where her captor had dropped her.
Sing was about to rush forward and pick her up, when he saw von Horn
and his Dyaks leap into the clearing, to which they had been guided by
the sounds of the chase and the encounter. The doctor halted at the
sight that met his eyes—the prostrate form of the girl and the man
battling with three huge bulls.
Then he gathered up Virginia Maxon, and with a sign to his Dyaks, who
were thoroughly frightened at the mere sight of the white giant of whom
they had heard such terrible stories, turned and hastened back in the
direction from which they had come, leaving the man to what seemed must
be a speedy and horrible death.
Sing Lee was astounded at the perfidy of the act. To Bulan alone was
due the entire credit of having rescued Professor Maxon’s daughter, and
yet in the very presence of his self-sacrificing loyalty and devotion
von Horn had deserted him without making the least attempt to aid him.
But the wrinkled old Chinaman was made of different metal, and had
started forward to assist Bulan when a heavy hand suddenly fell upon
his shoulder. Looking around he saw the hideous face of Number Ten
snarling into his. The bloodshot eyes of the monster were flaming with
rage. He had been torn and chewed by the bull with which he had fought,
and though he had finally overcome and killed the beast, a female which
he had pursued had eluded him. In a frenzy of passion and blood lust
aroused by his wounds, disappointment and the taste of warm blood which
still smeared his lips and face, he had been seeking the female when he
suddenly stumbled upon the hapless Sing.
With a roar he grasped the Chinaman as though to break him in two, but
Sing was not at all inclined to give up his life without a struggle,
and Number Ten was quick to learn that no mean muscles moved beneath
that wrinkled, yellow hide.
There could, however, have been but one outcome to the unequal struggle
had Sing not been armed with a revolver, though it was several seconds
before he could bring it into play upon the great thing that shook and
tossed him about as though he had been a rat in the mouth of a terrier.
But suddenly there was the sharp report of a firearm, and another of
Professor Maxon’s unhappy experiments sank back into the nothingness
from which he had conjured it.
Then Sing turned his attention to Bulan and his three savage
assailants, but, except for the dead body of a bull ourang outang upon
the spot where he had last seen the four struggling, there was no sign
either of the white man or his antagonists; nor, though he listened
attentively, could he catch the slightest sound within the jungle other
than the rustling of the leaves and the raucous cries of the brilliant
birds that flitted among the gorgeous blooms about him.
For half an hour he searched in every direction, but finally, fearing
that he might become lost in the mazes of the unfamiliar forest he
reluctantly turned his face toward the river and the long-house that
sheltered his party.
Here he found Professor Maxon much improved—the safe return of Virginia
having acted as a tonic upon him. The girl and her father sat with von
Horn upon the verandah of the long-house as Sing clambered up the
notched log that led to it from the ground. At sight of Sing’s wrinkled
old face Virginia Maxon sprang to her feet and ran forward to greet
him, for she had been very fond of the shrewd and kindly Chinaman of
whom she had seen so much during the dreary months of her imprisonment
within the campong.
“Oh, Sing,” she cried, “where have you been? We were all so worried to
think that no sooner was one of us rescued than another became lost.”
“Sing takee walk, Linee, las all,” said the grinning Chinaman. “Velly
glad see Linee black ’gain,” and that was all that Sing Lee had to say
of the adventures through which he had just passed, and the strange
sights that he had seen.
Again and again the girl and von Horn narrated the stirring scenes of
the day, the latter being compelled to repeat all that had transpired
from the moment that he had heard Virginia’s cry, though it was
apparent that he only consented to speak of his part in her rescue
under the most considerable urging. Very pretty modesty, thought Sing
when he had heard the doctor’s version of the affair.
“You see,” said von Horn, “when I reached the spot Number Three, the
brute that you thought was an ape, had just turned you over to Number
Thirteen, or, as the natives now call him, Bulan. You were then in a
faint, and when I attacked Bulan he dropped you to defend himself. I
had expected a bitter fight from him after the wild tales the natives
have been telling of his ferocity, but it was soon evident that he is
an arrant coward, for I did not even have to fire my revolver—a few
thumps with the butt of it upon his brainless skull sent him howling
into the jungle with his pack at his heels.”
“How fortunate it is, my dear doctor,” said Professor Maxon, “that you
were bright enough to think of trailing the miscreant into the jungle.
But for that Virginia would still be in his clutches and by this time
he would have been beyond all hope of capture. How can we ever repay
you, dear friend?”
“That you were generous enough to arrange when we first embarked upon
the search for your daughter,” replied von Horn.
“Just so, just so,” said the professor, but a shade of trouble tinged
the expression of his face, and a moment later he arose, saying that he
felt weak and tired and would go to his sleeping room and lie down for
a while. The fact was that Professor Maxon regretted the promise he had
made von Horn relative to his daughter.
Once before he had made plans for her marriage only to regret them
later; he hoped that he had made no mistake this time, but he realized
that it had scarcely been fair to Virginia to promise her to his
assistant without first obtaining her consent. Yet a promise was a
promise, and, again, was it not true that but for von Horn she would
have been dead or worse than dead in a short time had she not been
rescued from the clutches of the soulless Bulan? Thus did the old man
justify his action, and clinch the determination that he had before
reached to compel Virginia to wed von Horn should she, from some
incomprehensible motive, demur. Yet he hoped that the girl would make
it easy, by accepting voluntarily the man who had saved her life.
Left alone, or as he thought alone, with the girl in the growing
shadows of the evening, von Horn thought the moment propitious for
renewing his suit. He did not consider the natives squatting about them
as of sufficient consequence to consider, since they would not
understand the language in which he addressed Virginia, and in the dusk
he failed to note that Sing squatted with the Dyaks, close behind them.
“Virginia,” he commenced, after an interval of silence, “often before
have I broached the subject nearest to my heart, yet never have you
given me much encouragement. Can you not feel for the man who would
gladly give his life for you, sufficient affection to permit you to
make him the happiest man in the world? I do not ask for all your love
at first—that will come later. Just give me the right to cherish and
protect you. Say that you will be my wife, Virginia, and we need have
no more fears that the strange vagaries of your father’s mind can ever
again jeopardize your life or your happiness as they have in the past.”
“I feel that I owe you my life,” replied the girl in a quiet voice,
“and while I am now positive that my father has entirely regained his
sanity, and looks with as great abhorrence upon the terrible fate he
planned for me as I myself, I cannot forget the debt of gratitude which
belongs to you.
“At the same time I do not wish to be the means of making you unhappy,
as surely would be the result were I to marry you without love. Let us
wait until I know myself better. Though you have spoken to me of the
matter before, I realize now that I never have made any effort to
determine whether or not I really can love you. There is time enough
before we reach civilization, if ever we are fortunate enough to do so
at all. Will you not be as generous as you are brave, and give me a few
days before I must make you a final answer?”
With Professor Maxon’s solemn promise to insure his ultimate success
von Horn was very gentle and gracious in deferring to the girl’s
wishes. The girl for her part could not put from her mind the
disappointment she had felt when she discovered that her rescuer was
von Horn, and not the handsome young giant whom she had been positive
was in close pursuit of her abductors.
When Number Thirteen had been mentioned she had always pictured him as
a hideous monster, similar to the creature that had seized her in the
jungle beside the encampment that first day she had seen the mysterious
stranger, of whom she could obtain no information either from her
father or von Horn. When she had recently insisted that the same man
had been at the head of her father’s creatures in an attempt to rescue
her, both von Horn and Professor Maxon scoffed at the idea, until at
last she was convinced that the fright and the firelight had conspired
to conjure in her brain the likeness of one who was linked by memory to
another time of danger and despair.
Virginia could not understand why it was that the face of the stranger
persisted in obtruding itself in her memory. That the man was unusually
good looking was undeniable, but she had known many good looking men,
nor was she especially impressionable to mere superficial beauty. No
words had passed between them on the occasion of their first meeting,
so it could have been nothing that he said which caused the memory of
him to cling so tenaciously in her mind.
What was it then? Was it the memory of the moments that she had lain in
his strong arms—was it the shadow of the sweet, warm glow that had
suffused her as his eyes had caught hers upon his face?
The thing was tantalizing—it was annoying. The girl blushed in
mortification at the very thought that she could cling so resolutely to
the memory of a total stranger, and—still greater humiliation—long in
the secret depths of her soul to see him again.
She was angry with herself, but the more she tried to forget the young
giant who had come into her life for so brief an instant, the more she
speculated upon his identity and the strange fate that had brought him
to their little, savage island only to snatch him away again as
mysteriously as he had come, the less was the approval with which she
looked upon the suit of Doctor von Horn.
Von Horn had left her, and strolled down to the river. Finally Virginia
arose to seek the crude couch which had been spread for her in one of
the sleeping rooms of the long-house. As she passed a group of natives
squatted nearby one of the number arose and approached her, and as she
halted, half in fright, a low voice whispered:
“Lookee out, Linee, dloctor Hornee velly bad man.”
“Why, Sing!” exclaimed Virginia. “What in the world do you mean by
saying such a thing as that?”
“Never mind, Linee; you always good to old Sing. Sing no likee see you
sadee. Dloctor Hornee velly bad man, las allee,” and without another
word the Chinaman turned and walked away.
13
BURIED TREASURE
After the escape of the girl Barunda and Ninaka had fallen out over
that affair and the division of the treasure, with the result that the
panglima had slipped a knife between the ribs of his companion and
dropped the body overboard.
Barunda’s followers, however, had been highly enraged at the act, and
in the ensuing battle which they waged for revenge of their murdered
chief Ninaka and his crew had been forced to take to the shore and hide
in the jungle.
With difficulty they had saved the chest and dragged it after them into
the mazes of the underbrush. Finally, however, they succeeded in
eluding the angry enemy, and took up their march through the interior
for the head of a river which would lead them to the sea by another
route, it being Ninaka’s intention to dispose of the contents of the
chest as quickly as possible through the assistance of a rascally Malay
who dwelt at Gunung Tebor, where he carried on a thriving trade with
pirates.
But presently it became apparent that he had not so easily escaped the
fruits of his villainy as he had supposed, for upon the evening of the
first day the rear of his little column was attacked by some of
Barunda’s warriors who had forged ahead of their fellows, with the
result that the head of Ninaka’s brother went to increase the prestige
and glory of the house of the enemy.
Ninaka was panic-stricken, since he knew that hampered as he was by the
heavy chest he could neither fight nor run to advantage. And so, upon a
dark night near the head waters of the river he sought, he buried the
treasure at the foot of a mighty buttress tree, and with his parang
made certain cabalistic signs upon the bole whereby he might identify
the spot when it was safe to return and disinter his booty. Then, with
his men, he hastened down the stream until they reached the head of
prahu navigation where they stole a craft and paddled swiftly on toward
the sea.
When the three bull ourang outangs closed upon Bulan he felt no fear as
to the outcome of the battle, for never in his experience had he coped
with any muscles that his own mighty thews could not overcome. But as
the battle continued he realized that there might be a limit to the
number of antagonists which he could successfully withstand, since he
could scarcely hope with but two hands to reach the throats of three
enemies, or ward off the blows and clutches of six powerful hands, or
the gnashing of three sets of savage fangs.
When the truth dawned upon him that he was being killed the instinct of
self-preservation was born in him. The ferocity with which he had
fought before paled into insignificance beside the mad fury with which
he now attacked the three terrible creatures upon him. Shaking himself
like a great lion he freed his arms for a moment from the clinging
embrace of his foemen, and seizing the neck of the nearest in his
mighty clutch wrenched the head completely around.