Tarzan stepped over to where Cannon lay. The man was still breathing. He would be out awhile. "Tie him up," Tarzan said to the askari with the lump. "Make sure he is completely unarmed." Tarzan waved a hand at Wilson. "And tie that one up, quickly. I believe he will come around soon."
"What about the other one?" asked another of the askaris.
Tarzan glanced at where Talent lay. "Being tied or untied is exactly the same to him."
"Do we bury him?" asked the askari.
"The animals will see that he has a funeral crowd," Tarzan said.
The askari who had asked the question grinned, turned, saw Jad-bal-ja watching him. He stopped grinning.
"Do not be afraid of the lion," Tarzan said to the askari. "He will attack no one in this camp unless I tell him to. Take all the weapons from these men's askaris and bearers. Tell them they may come with us if they wish, or stay. Tell them that if any of them feel loyal to these men and do not wish to go with us, and should they attempt to follow us or rescue them, I will kill them."
"Anyone loyal to these men can be taken care of right now," said the askari.
"Let us do it my way," Tarzan said.
The askari, disappointed, nodded, and went to do as Tarzan had suggested. Hanson's bearers made quick work of repacking the loads and relieving Wilson's safari of its weapons and ammunition, but the sun was very low when they had completed their work and were formed in a single file, ready to march. None of Wilson's safari had remained loyal.
"We will need to march all night," Tarzan said. "I will march at the head with the lion. Hanson's askaris will carry rifles and bring up the rear. There is to be no straggling. Start out. I will catch up momentarily."
Hanson's bearers were happy. They talked and joked. Sometimes they sang. Eventually, realizing they were not going to be slain, Wilson's bearers joined in the festivities; they had been under Cannon's whip long enough to doubly appreciate the humane treatment they had received at the hands of Tarzan of the Apes-a living legend of the jungle. They began to move down the trail.
Wilson, Cannon, and Gromvitch were tied, hands and feet, sitting on the ground in the middle of the trail. Wilson and Cannon had come around, but they still had confusion in their eyes.
Tarzan squatted down beside them. He removed the spear from his back and used the blade to cut them free. "Start for the coast, get out of Africa," he said. "And don't come back."
"But we haven't got a safari," Gromvitch said. "You've got to leave us food, some weapons."
"No, I do not," Tarzan said.
"Next time," Wilson said, rubbing his blood-starved wrists where the bonds had held him, "maybe we can tango a little longer. I like to think you got lucky."
"Think all you want," said Tarzan. "But do not cross my path again, or I will kill you."
Tarzan turned then and trotted after the safari.
Cannon rubbed the back of his aching head as he stood. "Man, I think maybe he dropped that whole tree on me... You know, there's some guys you don't like, then there's guys you really don't like. That guy, I like less than either of them."
"Yeah," Gromvitch said, shaking his legs out as he stood. "Me too. How we gonna bury Talent? We ain't got no shovels or stuff."
"You heard the wild man," Wilson said moving toward the jungle. "Animals will take care of him. Right now, what we got to do is get those guns I hid. And get that safari back."
"Oh yeah," Cannon said with a smile. "Wilson, I take my hat off to you. You was thinking ahead... That wild man, he ain't so smart as he thought, is he?"
THE great apes of the tribe of Zu-yad, the king, moved about in the early morning searching for food. Grubs. Nuts. Berries. Whatever came their way. They moved silently through the jungle, examining holes in trees, overturning logs, prowling the branches for nests of bird eggs.
Zu-yad was feasting on an egg one of the tribe had brought him, when he smelled smoke, a sign of the tarmangani. His dark nostrils flared. Yes, he could smell the tarmangani as well. A male and a female. He licked his yoke-stained lips, gave a short, soft bark to his tribe, and they went still. All except Go-lot. Go-lot, a young bull of the tribe, purposely made a bit of noise before coming to rest. Zu-yad eyed him long and hard.
Day by day. Go-lot was becoming bolder. In time, Zu-yad knew he would have to deal with him, lest Go-lot take over his position as king. Dealing with Go-lot was not something Zu-yad wished to think about. Go-lot was younger than he, and strong. And in the end, strength, not wisdom, would decide who was king.
But for now, this day, this moment. Zu-yad was king.
Zu-yad moved like a shadow through the brush, climbed into a thick-limbed tree and spied down on the two tarmangani. Zu-yad's tribe moved carefully forward, watching unseen from the brush.
Hanson was rebuilding his fire. Jean was cutting some flesh from the carcass of the antelope with the knife Tarzan had left her. She was scrunching up her face, holding the meat away from her as she cut. "This stuff is starting to smell like your socks," she said. "Then again, you always did like your meat aged, didn't you. Dad?"
"Aged," Hanson said, dropping small sticks onto the fire. "Not ripe. If our wild man doesn't return pretty soon we'll have to go back to nuts and fruit."
"I'm willing," Jean said. "Another day of this, and we'll be poisoned."
"He's been gone a week," said Hanson. "Those scoundrels probably killed him."
Jean pulled a strip of meat free from the carcass, and said, "I think he might be more of a challenge to them than you think. He was traveling very fast by the trees. Like a monkey. If he's returning with the safari by foot, having to slow down to bring them here, well, it could take awhile."
"Could be," Hanson said, coughing from the smoke. "But I doubt it. Seems to me, now that we've regained our strength from the meat he left, we should consider smoke-drying some of it, and heading out."
"Our water is almost gone," Jean said.
"I think we'll have to chance a spring," Hanson said. "Things will only turn worse if we stay here. It's not like water is going to come our way while we wait."
Zu-yad, watching from the tree, appraised them. He sniffed the air. They were alone, and he neither saw nor smelled the sticks that belched smoke, that thundered and killed. The apes of Zu-yad were not naive. They had met tarmangani before.
From the concealment of the brush. Go-lot watched the tarmangani curiously. He knew of them, but he had only seen them before from a great distance. It was a great prize and status symbol to have a tarmangani slave. It had only been thus a few times-Zu-yad had owned two- and of course the slaves did not last long-but it was still prestigious, and Go-lot wanted this female for his slave. A tarmangani slave would give him prestige in his ongoing attempt to become king. But he was still a little afraid of old Zu-yad. He felt that his youth would give him the edge on the elder king, but he could not quite will himself to challenge Zu-yad. Perhaps, if he waited, a more opportune moment would present itself. Already, many of the tribe were looking to him, following his lead, and in time, when he had gained their complete confidence, then, and only then, he would strike at Zu-yad and claim his position as leader of the tribe.
Go-lot moved forward, and, as though it were a signal, the other apes did likewise. For the first time they made real noise-a rustling of the undergrowth through which they moved. At the same moment Zu-yad shot Go-lot and the tribe an angry look, the sound attracted Jean's attention. She looked up, hoping to spy Tarzan. What she saw pushing through the brush was Go-lot, and behind him the tribe of Zu-yad.
"Oh, hell," Jean said. "And us without a camera."