Tarzan the Untamed

As Metak bore Bertha Kircher toward the edge of the pool, the girl at first had no conception of the deed he contemplated but when, as they approached the edge, he did not lessen his speed she guessed the frightful truth.  As he leaped head foremost with her into the water, she closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer, for she was confident that the maniac had no other purpose than to drown himself and her.  And yet, so potent is the first law of nature that even in the face of certain death, as she surely believed herself, she clung tenaciously to life, and while she struggled to free herself from the powerful clutches of the madman, she held her breath against the final moment when the asphyxiating waters must inevitably flood her lungs.

Through the frightful ordeal she maintained absolute control of her senses so that, after the first plunge, she was aware that the man was swimming with her beneath the surface.  He took perhaps not more than a dozen strokes directly toward the end wall of the pool and then he arose; and once again she knew that her head was above the surface.  She opened her eyes to see that they were in a corridor dimly lighted by gratings set in its roof—­a winding corridor, water filled from wall to wall.

Along this the man was swimming with easy powerful strokes, at the same time holding her chin above the water.  For ten minutes he swam thus without stopping and the girl heard him speak to her, though she could not understand what he said, as he evidently immediately realized, for, half floating, he shifted his hold upon her so that he could touch her nose and mouth with the fingers of one hand.  She grasped what he meant and immediately took a deep breath, whereat he dove quickly beneath the surface pulling her down with him and again for a dozen strokes or more he swam thus wholly submerged.

When they again came to the surface, Bertha Kircher saw that they were in a large lagoon and that the bright stars were shining high above them, while on either hand domed and minareted buildings were silhouetted sharply against the starlit sky.  Metak swam swiftly to the north side of the lagoon where, by means of a ladder, the two climbed out upon the embankment.  There were others in the plaza but they paid but little if any attention to the two bedraggled figures.  As Metak walked quickly across the pavement with the girl at his side, Bertha Kircher could only guess at the man’s intentions.  She could see no way in which to escape and so she went docilely with him, hoping against hope that some fortuitous circumstance might eventually arise that would give her the coveted chance for freedom and life.

Metak led her toward a building which, as she entered, she recognized as the same to which she and Lieutenant Smith-Oldwick had been led when they were brought into the city.  There was no man sitting behind the carved desk now, but about the room were a dozen or more warriors in the tunics of the house to which they were attached, in this case white with a small lion in the form of a crest or badge upon the breast and back of each.

As Metak entered and the men recognized him they arose, and in answer to a query he put, they pointed to an arched doorway at the rear of the room.  Toward this Metak led the girl, and then, as though filled with a sudden suspicion, his eyes narrowed cunningly and turning toward the soldiery he issued an order which resulted in their all preceding him through the small doorway and up a flight of stairs a short distance beyond.

The stairway and the corridor above were lighted by small flares which revealed several doors in the walls of the upper passageway.  To one of these the men led the prince.  Bertha Kircher saw them knock upon the door and heard a voice reply faintly through the thick door to the summons.  The effect upon those about her was electrical.  Instantly excitement reigned, and in response to orders from the king’s son the soldiers commenced to beat heavily upon the door, to throw their bodies against it and to attempt to hew away the panels with their sabers.  The girl wondered at the cause of the evident excitement of her captors.

She saw the door giving to each renewed assault, but what she did not see just before it crashed inward was the figures of the two men who alone, in all the world, might have saved her, pass between the heavy hangings in an adjoining alcove and disappear into a dark corridor.

As the door gave and the warriors rushed into the apartment followed by the prince, the latter became immediately filled with baffled rage, for the rooms were deserted except for the dead body of the owner of the palace, and the still form of the black slave, Otobu, where they lay stretched upon the floor of the alcove.

The prince rushed to the windows and looked out, but as the suite overlooked the barred den of lions from which, the prince thought, there could be no escape, his puzzlement was only increased.  Though he searched about the room for some clue to the whereabouts of its former occupants he did not discover the niche behind the hangings.  With the fickleness of insanity he quickly tired of the search, and, turning to the soldiers who had accompanied him from the floor below, dismissed them.

After setting up the broken door as best they could, the men left the apartment and when they were again alone Metak turned toward the girl.  As he approached her, his face distorted by a hideous leer, his features worked rapidly in spasmodic twitches.  The girl, who was standing at the entrance of the alcove, shrank back, her horror reflected in her face.  Step by step she backed across the room, while the crouching maniac crept stealthily after her with claw-like fingers poised in anticipation of the moment they should leap forth and seize her.

As she passed the body of the Negro, her foot touched some obstacle at her side, and glancing down she saw the spear with which Otobu had been supposed to hold the prisoners.  Instantly she leaned forward and snatched it from the floor with its sharp point directed at the body of the madman.  The effect upon Metak was electrical.  From stealthy silence he broke into harsh peals of laughter, and drawing his saber danced to and fro before the girl, but whichever way he went the point of the spear still threatened him.

Gradually the girl noticed a change in the tone of the creature’s screams that was also reflected in the changing expression upon his hideous countenance.  His hysterical laughter was slowly changing into cries of rage while the silly leer upon his face was supplanted by a ferocious scowl and up-curled lips, which revealed the sharpened fangs beneath.

He now ran rapidly in almost to the spear’s point, only to jump away, run a few steps to one side and again attempt to make an entrance, the while he slashed and hewed at the spear with such violence that it was with difficulty the girl maintained her guard, and all the time was forced to give ground step by step.  She had reached the point where she was standing squarely against the couch at the side of the room when, with an incredibly swift movement, Metak stooped and grasping a low stool hurled it directly at her head.

She raised the spear to fend off the heavy missile, but she was not entirely successful, and the impact of the blow carried her backward upon the couch, and instantly Metak was upon her.

Tarzan and Smith-Oldwick gave little thought as to what had become of the other two occupants of the room.  They were gone, and so far as these two were concerned they might never return.  Tarzan’s one desire was to reach the street again, where, now that both of them were in some sort of disguise, they should be able to proceed with comparative safety to the palace and continue their search for the girl.

Smith-Oldwick preceded Tarzan along the corridor and as they reached the ladder he climbed aloft to remove the trap.  He worked for a moment and then, turning, addressed Tarzan.

“Did we replace the cover on this trap when we came down?  I don’t recall that we did.”

“No,” said Tarzan, “it was left open.”

“So I thought,” said Smith-Oldwick, “but it’s closed now and locked.  I cannot move it.  Possibly you can,” and he descended the ladder.

Even Tarzan’s immense strength, however, had no effect other than to break one of the rungs of the ladder against which he was pushing, nearly precipitating him to the floor below.  After the rung broke he rested for a moment before renewing his efforts, and as he stood with his head near the cover of the trap, he distinctly heard voices on the roof above him.

Dropping down to Oldwick’s side he told him what he had heard.  “We had better find some other way out,” he said, and the two started to retrace their steps toward the alcove.  Tarzan was again in the lead, and as he opened the door in the back of the niche, he was suddenly startled to hear, in tones of terror and in a woman’s voice, the words:  “O God, be merciful” from just beyond the hangings.

Here was no time for cautious investigation and, not even waiting to find the aperture and part the hangings, but with one sweep of a brawny hand dragging them from their support, the ape-man leaped from the niche into the alcove.

At the sound of his entry the maniac looked up, and as he saw at first only a man in the uniform of his father’s soldiers, he shrieked forth an angry order, but at the second glance, which revealed the face of the newcomer, the madman leaped from the prostrate form of his victim and, apparently forgetful of the saber which he had dropped upon the floor beside the couch as he leaped to grapple with the girl, closed with bare hands upon his antagonist, his sharp-filed teeth searching for the other’s throat.

Metak, the son of Herog, was no weakling.  Powerful by nature and rendered still more so in the throes of one of his maniacal fits of fury he was no mean antagonist, even for the mighty ape-man, and to this a distinct advantage for him was added by the fact that almost at the outset of their battle Tarzan, in stepping backward, struck his heel against the corpse of the man whom Smith-Oldwick had killed, and fell heavily backward to the floor with Metak upon his breast.

With the quickness of a cat the maniac made an attempt to fasten his teeth in Tarzan’s jugular, but a quick movement of the latter resulted in his finding a hold only upon the Tarmangani’s shoulder.  Here he clung while his fingers sought Tarzan’s throat, and it was then that the ape-man, realizing the possibility of defeat, called to Smith-Oldwick to take the girl and seek to escape.

The Englishman looked questioningly at Bertha Kircher, who had now risen from the couch, shaking and trembling.  She saw the question in his eyes and with an effort she drew herself to her full height.  “No,” she cried, “if he dies here I shall die with him.  Go if you wish to.  You can do nothing here, but I—­I cannot go.”

Tarzan had now regained his feet, but the maniac still clung to him tenaciously.  The girl turned suddenly to Smith-Oldwick.  “Your pistol!” she cried.  “Why don’t you shoot him?”

The man drew the weapon from his pocket and approached the two antagonists, but by this time they were moving so rapidly that there was no opportunity for shooting one without the danger of hitting the other.  At the same time Bertha Kircher circled about them with the prince’s saber, but neither could she find an opening.  Again and again the two men fell to the floor, until presently Tarzan found a hold upon the other’s throat, against which contingency Metak had been constantly battling, and slowly, as the giant fingers closed, the other’s mad eyes protruded from his livid face, his jaws gaped and released their hold upon Tarzan’s shoulder, and then in a sudden excess of disgust and rage the ape-man lifted the body of the prince high above his head and with all the strength of his great arms hurled it across the room and through the window where it fell with a sickening thud into the pit of lions beneath.

As Tarzan turned again toward his companions, the girl was standing with the saber still in her hand and an expression upon her face that he never had seen there before.  Her eyes were wide and misty with unshed tears, while her sensitive lips trembled as though she were upon the point of giving way to some pent emotion which her rapidly rising and falling bosom plainly indicated she was fighting to control.

“If we are going to get out of here,” said the ape-man, “we can’t lose any time.  We are together at last and nothing can be gained by delay.  The question now is the safest way.  The couple who escaped us evidently departed through the passageway to the roof and secured the trap against us so that we are cut off in that direction.  What chance have we below?  You came that way,” and he turned toward the girl.

“At the foot of the stairs,” she said, “is a room full of armed men.  I doubt if we could pass that way.”

It was then that Otobu raised himself to a sitting posture.  “So you are not dead after all,” exclaimed the ape-man.  “Come, how badly are you hurt?”

The Negro rose gingerly to his feet, moved his arms and legs and felt of his head.

“Otobu does not seem to be hurt at all, Bwana,” he replied, “only for a great ache in his head.”

“Good,” said the ape-man.  “You want to return to the Wamabo country?”

“Yes, Bwana.”

“Then lead us from the city by the safest way.”

“There is no safe way,” replied the black, “and even if we reach the gates we shall have to fight.  I can lead you from this building to a side street with little danger of meeting anyone on the way.  Beyond that we must take our chance of discovery.  You are all dressed as are the people of this wicked city so perhaps we may pass unnoticed, but at the gate it will be a different matter, for none is permitted to leave the city at night.”

“Very well,” replied the ape-man, “let us be on our way.”

Otobu led them through the broken door of the outer room, and part way down the corridor he turned into another apartment at the right.  This they crossed to a passageway beyond, and, finally, traversing several rooms and corridors, he led them down a flight of steps to a door which opened directly upon a side street in rear of the palace.

Two men, a woman, and a black slave were not so extraordinary a sight upon the streets of the city as to arouse comment.  When passing beneath the flares the three Europeans were careful to choose a moment when no chance pedestrian might happen to get a view of their features, but in the shadow of the arcades there seemed little danger of detection.  They had covered a good portion of the distance to the gate without mishap when there came to their ears from the central portion of the city sounds of a great commotion.

“What does that mean?” Tarzan asked of Otobu, who was now trembling violently.

“Master,” he replied, “they have discovered that which has happened in the palace of Veza, mayor of the city.  His son and the girl escaped and summoned soldiers who have now doubtless discovered the body of Veza.”

“I wonder,” said Tarzan, “if they have discovered the party I threw through the window.”

Bertha Kircher, who understood enough of the dialect to follow their conversation, asked Tarzan if he knew that the man he had thrown from the window was the king’s son.  The ape-man laughed.  “No,” he said, “I did not.  That rather complicates matters—­at least if they have found him.”

Suddenly there broke above the turmoil behind them the clear strains of a bugle.  Otobu increased his pace.  “Hurry, Master,” he cried, “it is worse than I had thought.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tarzan.

“For some reason the king’s guard and the king’s lions are being called out.  I fear, O Bwana, that we cannot escape them.  But why they should be called out for us I do not know.”

But if Otobu did not know, Tarzan at least guessed that they had found the body of the king’s son.  Once again the notes of the bugle rose high and clear upon the night air.  “Calling more lions?” asked Tarzan.

“No, Master,” replied Otobu.  “It is the parrots they are calling.”

They moved on rapidly in silence for a few minutes when their attention was attracted by the flapping of the wings of a bird above them.  They looked up to discover a parrot circling about over their heads.

“Here are the parrots, Otobu,” said Tarzan with a grin.  “Do they expect to kill us with parrots?”

The Negro moaned as the bird darted suddenly ahead of them toward the city wall.  “Now indeed are we lost, Master,” cried the black.  “The bird that found us has flown to the gate to warn the guard.”

“Come, Otobu, what are you talking about?” exclaimed Tarzan irritably.  “Have you lived among these lunatics so long that you are yourself mad?”

“No, Master,” replied Otobu.  “I am not mad.  You do not know them.  These terrible birds are like human beings without hearts or souls.  They speak the language of the people of this city of Xuja.  They are demons, Master, and when in sufficient numbers they might even attack and kill us.”

“How far are we from the gate?” asked Tarzan.

“We are not very far,” replied the Negro.  “Beyond this next turn we will see it a few paces ahead of us.  But the bird has reached it before us and by now they are summoning the guard,” the truth of which statement was almost immediately indicated by sounds of many voices raised evidently in commands just ahead of them, while from behind came increased evidence of approaching pursuit—­loud screams and the roars of lions.

A few steps ahead a narrow alley opened from the east into the thoroughfare they were following and as they approached it there emerged from its dark shadows the figure of a mighty lion.  Otobu halted in his tracks and shrank back against Tarzan.  “Look, Master,” he whimpered, “a great black lion of the forest!”

Tarzan drew the saber which still hung at his side.  “We cannot go back,” he said.  “Lions, parrots, or men, it must be all the same,” and he moved steadily forward in the direction of the gate.  What wind was stirring in the city street moved from Tarzan toward the lion and when the ape-man had approached to within a few yards of the beast, who had stood silently eyeing them up to this time, instead of the expected roar, a whine broke from the beast’s throat.  The ape-man was conscious of a very decided feeling of relief.  “It’s Numa of the pit,” he called back to his companions, and to Otobu, “Do not fear, this lion will not harm us.”

Numa moved forward to the ape-man’s side and then turning, paced beside him along the narrow street.  At the next turn they came in sight of the gate, where, beneath several flares, they saw a group of at least twenty warriors prepared to seize them, while from the opposite direction the roars of the pursuing lions sounded close upon them, mingling with the screams of numerous parrots which now circled about their heads.  Tarzan halted and turned to the young aviator.  “How many rounds of ammunition have you left?” he asked.

“I have seven in the pistol,” replied Smith-Oldwick, “and perhaps a dozen more cartridges in my blouse pocket.”

“I’m going to rush them,” said Tarzan.  “Otobu, you stay at the side of the woman.  Oldwick, you and I will go ahead, you upon my left.  I think we need not try to tell Numa what to do,” for even then the great lion was baring his fangs and growling ferociously at the guardsmen, who appeared uneasy in the face of this creature which, above all others, they feared.

“As we advance, Oldwick,” said the ape-man, “fire one shot.  It may frighten them, and after that fire only when necessary.  All ready?  Let’s go!” and he moved forward toward the gate.  At the same time, Smith-Oldwick discharged his weapon and a yellow-coated warrior screamed and crumpled forward upon his face.  For a minute the others showed symptoms of panic but one, who seemed to be an officer, rallied them.  “Now,” said Tarzan, “all together!” and he started at a run for the gate.  Simultaneously the lion, evidently scenting the purpose of the Tarmangani, broke into a full charge toward the guard.

Shaken by the report of the unfamiliar weapon, the ranks of the guardsmen broke before the furious assault of the great beast.  The officer screamed forth a volley of commands in a mad fury of uncontrolled rage but the guardsmen, obeying the first law of nature as well as actuated by their inherent fear of the black denizen of the forest scattered to right and left to elude the monster.  With ferocious growls Numa wheeled to the right, and with raking talons struck right and left among a little handful of terrified guardsmen who were endeavoring to elude him, and then Tarzan and Smith-Oldwick closed with the others.

For a moment their most formidable antagonist was the officer in command.  He wielded his curved saber as only an adept might as he faced Tarzan, to whom the similar weapon in his own hand was most unfamiliar.  Smith-Oldwick could not fire for fear of hitting the ape-man when suddenly to his dismay he saw Tarzan’s weapon fly from his grasp as the Xujan warrior neatly disarmed his opponent.  With a scream the fellow raised his saber for the final cut that would terminate the earthly career of Tarzan of the Apes when, to the astonishment of both the ape-man and Smith-Oldwick, the fellow stiffened rigidly, his weapon dropped from the nerveless fingers of his upraised hand, his mad eyes rolled upward and foam flecked his bared lip.  Gasping as though in the throes of strangulation the fellow pitched forward at Tarzan’s feet.

Tarzan stooped and picked up the dead man’s weapon, a smile upon his face as he turned and glanced toward the young Englishman.

“The fellow is an epileptic,” said Smith-Oldwick.  “I suppose many of them are.  Their nervous condition is not without its good points—­a normal man would have gotten you.”

The other guardsmen seemed utterly demoralized at the loss of their leader.  They were huddled upon the opposite side of the street at the left of the gate, screaming at the tops of their voices and looking in the direction from which sounds of reinforcements were coming, as though urging on the men and lions that were already too close for the comfort of the fugitives.  Six guardsmen still stood with their backs against the gate, their weapons flashing in the light of the flares and their parchment-like faces distorted in horrid grimaces of rage and terror.

Numa had pursued two fleeing warriors down the street which paralleled the wall for a short distance at this point.  The ape-man turned to Smith-Oldwick.  “You will have to use your pistol now,” he said, “and we must get by these fellows at once;” and as the young Englishman fired, Tarzan rushed in to close quarters as though he had not already discovered that with the saber he was no match for these trained swordsmen.  Two men fell to Smith-Oldwick’s first two shots and then he missed, while the four remaining divided, two leaping for the aviator and two for Tarzan.

The ape-man rushed in in an effort to close with one of his antagonists where the other’s saber would be comparatively useless.  Smith-Oldwick dropped one of his assailants with a bullet through the chest and pulled his trigger on the second, only to have the hammer fall futilely upon an empty chamber.  The cartridges in his weapon were exhausted and the warrior with his razor-edged, gleaming saber was upon him.

Tarzan raised his own weapon but once and that to divert a vicious cut for his head.  Then he was upon one of his assailants and before the fellow could regain his equilibrium and leap back after delivering his cut, the ape-man had seized him by the neck and crotch.  Tarzan’s other antagonist was edging around to one side where he might use his weapon, and as he raised the blade to strike at the back of the Tarmangani’s neck, the latter swung the body of his comrade upward so that it received the full force of the blow.  The blade sank deep into the body of the warrior, eliciting a single frightful scream, and then Tarzan hurled the dying man in the face of his final adversary.

Smith-Oldwick, hard pressed and now utterly defenseless, had given up all hope in the instant that he realized his weapon was empty, when, from his left, a living bolt of black-maned ferocity shot past him to the breast of his opponent.  Down went the Xujan, his face bitten away by one snap of the powerful jaws of Numa of the pit.

In the few seconds that had been required for the consummation of these rapidly ensuing events, Otobu had dragged Bertha Kircher to the gate which he had unbarred and thrown open, and with the vanquishing of the last of the active guardsmen, the party passed out of the maniac city of Xuja into the outer darkness beyond.  At the same moment a half dozen lions rounded the last turn in the road leading back toward the plaza, and at sight of them Numa of the pit wheeled and charged.  For a moment the lions of the city stood their ground, but only for a moment, and then before the black beast was upon them, they turned and fled, while Tarzan and his party moved rapidly toward the blackness of the forest beyond the garden.

“Will they follow us out of the city?” Tarzan asked Otobu.

“Not at night,” replied the black.  “I have been a slave here for five years but never have I known these people to leave the city by night.  If they go beyond the forest in the daytime they usually wait until the dawn of another day before they return, as they fear to pass through the country of the black lions after dark.  No, I think, Master, that they will not follow us tonight, but tomorrow they will come, and, O Bwana, then will they surely get us, or those that are left of us, for at least one among us must be the toll of the black lions as we pass through their forest.”

As they crossed the garden, Smith-Oldwick refilled the magazine of his pistol and inserted a cartridge in the chamber.  The girl moved silently at Tarzan’s left, between him and the aviator.  Suddenly the ape-man stopped and turned toward the city, his mighty frame, clothed in the yellow tunic of Herog’s soldiery, plainly visible to the others beneath the light of the stars.  They saw him raise his head and they heard break from his lips the plaintive note of a lion calling to his fellows.  Smith-Oldwick felt a distinct shudder pass through his frame, while Otobu, rolling the whites of his eyes in terrified surprise, sank tremblingly to his knees.  But the girl thrilled and she felt her heart beat in a strange exultation, and then she drew nearer to the beast-man until her shoulder touched his arm.  The act was involuntary and for a moment she scarce realized what she had done, and then she stepped silently back, thankful that the light of the stars was not sufficient to reveal to the eyes of her companions the flush which she felt mantling her cheek.  Yet she was not ashamed of the impulse that had prompted her, but rather of the act itself which she knew, had Tarzan noticed it, would have been repulsive to him.

From the open gate of the city of maniacs came the answering cry of a lion.  The little group waited where they stood until presently they saw the majestic proportions of the black lion as he approached them along the trail.  When he had rejoined them Tarzan fastened the fingers of one hand in the black mane and started on once more toward the forest.  Behind them, from the city, rose a bedlam of horrid sounds, the roaring of lions mingling with the raucous voices of the screaming parrots and the mad shrieks of the maniacs.  As they entered the Stygian darkness of the forest the girl once again involuntarily shrank closer to the ape-man, and this time Tarzan was aware of the contact.

Himself without fear, he yet instinctively appreciated how terrified the girl must be.  Actuated by a sudden kindly impulse he found her hand and took it in his own and thus they continued upon their way, groping through the blackness of the trail.  Twice they were approached by forest lions, but upon both occasions the deep growls of Numa of the pit drove off their assailants.  Several times they were compelled to rest, for Smith-Oldwick was constantly upon the verge of exhaustion, and toward morning Tarzan was forced to carry him on the steep ascent from the bed of the valley.