Sometimes he thought of the good-looking young American, to whom he had taken a fancy in spite of the fact that he considered him an enemy. Had he known of Colt's now almost hopeless plight, it is possible that he would have gone to his rescue, but he knew nothing of it.
So, alone and friendless, sunk to the uttermost depths of despair, Wayne Colt stumbled through the jungle in search of Zora Drinov and her abductor. But already he had lost the faint trail; and To-yat, far to his right, lumbered along with his captive safe from pursuit.
Weak from exhaustion and shock, thoroughly terrified now by the hopelessness of her hideous position, Zora had lost consciousness. To-yat feared that she was dead; but he carried her on, nevertheless, that he might at least have the satisfaction of exhibiting her to his tribe as evidence of his prowess and, perhaps, to furnish an excuse for another Dum-Dum. Secure in his might, conscious of few enemies that might with safety to themselves molest him, To-yat did not take the precaution of silence, but wandered on through the jungle heedless of all dangers.
Many were the keen ears and sensitive nostrils that carried the message of his passing to their owners, but to only one did the strange mingling of the scent spoor of the bull ape with that of a she-Mangani suggest a condition worthy of investigation. So as To-yat pursued his careless way, another creature of the jungle, moving silently on swift feet, bore down upon him; and when, from a point of vantage, keen eyes beheld the shaggy bull and the slender, delicate girl, a lip curled in a silent snarl. A moment later To-yat, the king ape, was brought to a snarling, bristling halt as the giant figure of a bronzed Tarmangani dropped lightly into the trail before him, a living threat to his possession of his prize.
The wicked eyes of the bull shot fire and hate. "Go away," he said. "I am To-yat. Go away or I kill."
"Put down the she," demanded Tarzan.
"No," bellowed To-yat. "She is mine."
"Put down the she," repeated Tarzan, "and go your way; or I kill. I am Tarzan of the Apes, Lord of the Jungle!"
Tarzan drew the hunting knife of his father and crouched as he advanced toward the bull. To-yat snarled; and seeing that the other meant to give battle, he cast the body of the girl aside that he might not be handicapped. As they circled, each looking for an advantage, there came a sudden, terrific crashing sound in the jungle down wind from them.
Tantor, the elephant, asleep in the security of the depth of the forest, had been suddenly awakened by the growling of the two beasts. Instantly his nostrils caught a familiar scent spoor-the scent spoor of his beloved Tarzan-and his ears told him that he was facing in battle the great Mangani, whose scent was also strong in the nostrils of Tantor.
To the snapping and bending of trees, the great bull rushed through the forest; and as he emerged suddenly, towering above them To-yat, the king ape, seeing death in those angry eyes and gleaming tusks, turned and fled into the jungle.
Chapter 13: The Lion-Man
PETER ZVERI was, in a measure, regaining some of the confidence that he had lost in the ultimate success of his plan, for his agents were succeeding at last in getting to him some of his much needed supplies, together with contingents of disaffected blacks wherewith to recruit his forces to sufficient numbers to insure the success of his contemplated invasion of Italian Somaliland. It was his plan to make a swift and sudden incursion, destroying native villages and capturing an outpost or two, then retreating quickly across the border, pack away the French uniforms for possible future use and undertake the overthrow of Ras Tafari in Abyssinia, where his agents had assured him conditions were ripe for a revolution. With Abyssinia under his control to serve as a rallying point, his agents assured him that the native tribes of all Northern Africa would flock to his standards.
In distant Bokhara a fleet of two hundred planes-bombers, scouts, and fighting planes-made available through the greed of American capitalists, were being mobilized for a sudden dash across Persia and Arabia to his base in Abyssinia. With these to support his great native army, he felt that his position would be secure, the malcontents of Egypt would join forces with him and, with Europe embroiled in a war that would prevent any concerted action against him, his dream of empire might be assured and his position made impregnable for all time.
Perhaps it was a mad dream; perhaps Peter Zveri was mad-but, then, what great world conqueror has not been a little mad?
He saw his frontiers pushed toward the south as, little by little, he extended his dominion, until one day he should rule a great continent-Peter I, Emperor of Africa.
"You seem happy, Comrade Zveri," said little Antonio Mori.
"Why should I not be, Tony?" demanded the dreamer. "I see success just before us. We should all be happy, but we are going to be very much happier later on."
"Yes," said Tony, "when the Philippines are free, I shall be very happy. Do you not think that I should be a very big man back there, then, Comrade Zveri?"
"Yes," said the Russian, "but you can be a bigger man if you stay here and work for me. How would you like to be a Grand Duke, Tony?"
"A Grand Duke!" exclaimed the Filipino. "I thought there were no more Grand Dukes."
"But perhaps there may be again."
"They were wicked men who ground down the working classes," said Tony.
"To be a Grand Duke who grinds down the rich and takes money from them might not be so bad," said Peter. "Grand Dukes are very rich and powerful. Would you not like to be rich and powerful, Tony?"
"Well, of course, who would not?"
"Then always do as I tell you, Tony; and some day I shall make you a Grand Duke," said Zveri.
The camp was filled with activity now at all times, for Zveri had conceived the plan of whipping his native recruits into some semblance of military order and discipline. Romero, Dorsky, and Ivitch having had military experience, the camp was filled with marching men, deploying, charging and assembling, practicing the Manual of Arms, and being instructed in the rudiments of fire discipline.
The day following his conversation with Zveri, Tony was assisting the Mexican, who was sweating over a company of black recruits.
During a period of rest, as the Mexican and Filipino were enjoying a smoke, Tony turned to his companion. "You have travelled much, Comrade," said the Filipino. "Perhaps you can tell me what sort of uniform a Grand Duke wears."
"I have heard," said Romero, "that in Hollywood and New York many of them wear aprons."
Tony grimaced. "I do not think," he said, "that I want to be a Grand Duke."
The blacks in the camp, held sufficiently interested and busy in drills to keep them out of mischief, with plenty of food and with the prospects of fighting and marching still in the future, were a contented and happy lot. Those who had undergone the harrowing experiences of Opar and those other untoward incidents that had upset their equanimity had entirely regained their self confidence, a condition for which Zveri took all the credit to himself, assuming that it was due to his remarkable gift for leadership. And then a runner arrived in camp with a message for him and with a weird story of having seen a white woman hunting in the jungle with a black-maned golden lion. This was sufficient to recall to the blacks the other weird occurrences and to remind them that there were supernatural agencies at work in this territory, that it was peopled by ghosts and demons, and that at any moment some dire calamity might befall them.
But if this story upset the equanimity of the blacks, the message that the runner brought to Zveri precipitated an emotional outbreak in the Russian that bordered closely upon the frenzy of insanity. Blaspheming in a loud voice, he strode back and forth before his tent; nor would he explain to any of his lieutenants the cause of his anger.