A moment later, the jungle sloped down, the terrain became rough and rocky, and the trees were smaller and scragglier. Tarzan followed the scent of Jad-bal-ja until they came to a rocky, brush-covered hillock. At the summit of the hill was an outcropping of rock and there was a great slab of flint jutting out from the hill, and beneath the slab was the slanted opening to a cave.
Tarzan pulled Hunt off his shoulder and lowered him . to the ground. Nkima clung silent and wet to Tarzan's neck as the ape-man knelt and looked inside. Jad-bal-ja's scent was strong in the cave, so Tarzan knew there was no danger, or already they would hear the commotion of the lion in combat. Tarzan growled into the opening. Jad-bal-ja growled back.
Tarzan tossed the filthy hunk of buffalo leg in ahead of him, grabbed Hunt by the pant leg, and pulled him into the cave.
The cave was large and glowed with a greenish light. A little stream trickled through the center of it, and Tarzan could see a worn path next to the stream that led deeper into the cavern and around a series of strange rock formations that were filled with what looked like black glass and marbled stones. Apparently, eons of water seepage through limestone had left deposits of calcite, and the flint above the limestone had been broken off by erosion and had worked its way into the formations along with the black glass, which Tarzan deduced was most likely obsidian. All of this was coated with a sort of phosphorescent goo. Possibly crystals of calcium. Tarzan had never seen anything like this in Africa, and he had seen much.
Jad-bal-ja was lying against the cave wall beside the buffalo leg, eyeing it with a hungry intensity.
"Leave it be," Tarzan said. Jad-bal-ja let out a disgruntled rumble, moved away from the meat, and lay on the other side of the cavern wall. Nkima offered a squeak, went silent, and hung tightly to Tarzan. Outside, the wind screamed and moaned and tore at the jungle. Rain pounded the earth as if it were being whipped by the gods with a cat-of-nine-tails.
Hunt groaned and rolled over. He sat up slowly and felt his chin. "You hit me," he said.
"If you want to complain, I can do it again."
"No. No complaints. But why?"
"You talk too much."
"Where is this place?"
"A cave. An old lion's den. I assumed Jad-bal-ja would know a place."
Hunt noted the lion and became nervous. "You're sure that lion's safe."
"Safe enough."
"That's not the answer I was looking for."
"Life is full of disappointments, my young friend. Stay in the jungle awhile and there will be many more. What is, is."
"Man," Hunt said. "Listen to that wind. Usha. He is one hacked-off rascal ... Hey, I'm cold. I can't believe it. I'm in Africa, and I'm cold."
"Like I said, you talk too much. Stay where you are. Jad-bal-ja will protect you."
"The lion?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain he won't think you're leaving him a warm dinner? He could misunderstand, you know? You're gone, he thinks, oh, this fella's mine. Maybe I should go with you. Or you take the lion and leave me the monkey."
Tarzan did not answer. He spoke a word to the lion, picked up the buffalo leg, and with the unusually silent Nkima still clinging to his neck, followed the path by the creek.
Hunt squatted in his spot and looked at Jad-bal-ja. Jad-bal-ja put his head between his paws and looked at Hunt. Hunt thought he saw a sparkle in the lion's eyes. Or perhaps it was a glint of hunger.
"Easy, kitty," Hunt said.
The lion continued to stare, never taking his eyes off Hunt. Hunt decided not to look at the lion. He studied the cavern walls and the odd formations and wondered about Small. He felt guilty for running off and leaving Small like that, but it hadn't been intentional. He was merely running and had not meant for them to become separated. He hoped those two gorillas, Wilson and Cannon, had not caught Small. He had heard shots, but liked to think, like the shots that were fired at him, they had missed.
Then again, if the shots hadn't killed Small, the storm might be doing the job right now. The wild man had been right to flee before it, find shelter. Hunt rubbed his jaw where Tarzan had struck him. The wild man had been right to slug him. He had been close to panic.
Who was this wild man? He seemed to know the jungle as well as the animals, and he spoke to the animals. Was that possible? It certainly seemed to be.
Hunt eased a glance at Jad-bal-ja. He hoped, if the wild man truly spoke to the animals, his words carried some weight. What if the lion decided to disobey the wild man and eat him anyway?
Heavens, thought Hunt. Don't think that way. Don't think about that at all.
Exhaustion came over Hunt suddenly. He stretched out on the ground as far away from the lion as possible, and with the sound of the storm screaming outside, the soft breathing of the lion filling the cavern, Hunt fell asleep.
Chapter 9
TARZAN HAD NOT gone far behind the strange and glittery formations when he came to a huge glowing chamber. Nearly transparent stalactites of gleaming calcium dripped from its roof. The floor of the cave sloped downward, and below Tarzan could see stacks of skulls on either side of the cavern wall, arranged neatly from floor to ceiling. In fact, the walls themselves appeared to be made of skulls. The skulls, like the cavern walls, glowed with green phosphorescence, and there were splatters of red ocher and lines of charcoal on them.
As Tarzan came closer and the glow became brighter, he saw designs had been drawn on many of the skulls with the ocher and charcoal. No, on closer examination, they were not designs, but sticklike drawings of what appeared to be some kind of insect. A praying mantis perhaps. On each of the skulls the insect appeared in some different position. Something about the arrangements struck a chord with Tarzan, but he couldn't quite place it. All of the skulls had holes at the top of the cranium. It looked as if something small and sharp had poked through the bone.
Beyond the skulls, arranged neatly, were stacks of leg and arm bones, and in yet another pile were collapsed rib bones. Tarzan touched one of the bones. It was petrified and permeated with the sparkly calcium. Near the bones were stacks of pottery and chipped fragments of flint.
The path wound deeper into the cavern, and for some distance beyond, the ape-man could see the stacks of glowing skulls and bones. Lying amongst the bones were stacked weapons. Spearheads. Knives. Tarzan bent to examine the weapons and was surprised to see that the knives were made of metal, not flint. The metal was bronze. The blades were huge, almost like bowie knives. The wood or bone sheathing on the hilts had long since rotted away. Tarzan picked up two of the knives, rubbed the nervous Nkima's head, and started back to join Hunt and Jad-bal-ja.
He found Hunt asleep. Tarzan bent and scooped water from the stream and washed his face, removed the dried blood from his neck and chest. He lay against the great lion and cradled Nkima in his arms. In spite of all that had happened, it felt good to be back in the jungle. Here every moment was charged with excitement and danger. It made him feel alive. Civilization had its moments, but in the end it was numbing and repetitious.
He knew time was changing everything, however. Soon the jungle would disappear. Eaten away by human termites in search of lumber. Industry. In some areas, game was already scarce. Even the most distant of jungle trails were now being traveled. Soon, there would be no more adventuring. There was nothing left to do but return to Pellucidar. The lost world at the center of the earth. There, beneath the eternal noonday sun, as long as there was little to no contact with the outside world, changes were gradual. It was a world he knew and understood.