How Tarzan Came Again to Opar
When Clayton returned to the shelter and found Jane Porter
was missing, he became frantic with fear and grief.
He found Monsieur Thuran quite rational, the fever having
left him with the surprising suddenness which is one
of its peculiarities. The Russian, weak and exhausted,
still lay upon his bed of grasses within the shelter.
When Clayton asked him about the girl he seemed surprised
to know that she was not there.
"I have heard nothing unusual," he said. "But then I have
been unconscious much of the time."
Had it not been for the man's very evident weakness,
Clayton should have suspected him of having sinister
knowledge of the girl's whereabouts; but he could see that
Thuran lacked sufficient vitality even to descend, unaided,
from the shelter. He could not, in his present physical
condition, have harmed the girl, nor could he have climbed
the rude ladder back to the shelter.
Until dark the Englishman searched the nearby jungle for a
trace of the missing one or a sign of the trail of her abductor.
But though the spoor left by the fifty frightful men,
unversed in woodcraft as they were, would have been
as plain to the densest denizen of the jungle as a city street
to the Englishman, yet he crossed and recrossed it twenty
times without observing the slightest indication that many
men had passed that way but a few short hours since.
As he searched, Clayton continued to call the girl's name
aloud, but the only result of this was to attract Numa,
the lion. Fortunately the man saw the shadowy form worming
its way toward him in time to climb into the branches of a tree
before the beast was close enough to reach him. This put an
end to his search for the balance of the afternoon, as the
lion paced back and forth beneath him until dark.
Even after the beast had left, Clayton dared not descend
into the awful blackness beneath him, and so he spent a
terrifying and hideous night in the tree. The next morning
he returned to the beach, relinquishing the last hope of
succoring Jane Porter.
During the week that followed, Monsieur Thuran rapidly
regained his strength, lying in the shelter while Clayton
hunted food for both. The men never spoke except as
necessity demanded. Clayton now occupied the section of
the shelter which had been reserved for Jane Porter, and
only saw the Russian when he took food or water to him, or
performed the other kindly offices which common humanity required.
When Thuran was again able to descend in search of food,
Clayton was stricken with fever. For days he lay tossing
in delirium and suffering, but not once did the Russian
come near him. Food the Englishman could not have eaten,
but his craving for water amounted practically to torture.
Between the recurrent attacks of delirium, weak though he
was, he managed to reach the brook once a day and fill a tiny
can that had been among the few appointments of the lifeboat.
Thuran watched him on these occasions with an expression
of malignant pleasure--he seemed really to enjoy the
suffering of the man who, despite the just contempt in which
he held him, had ministered to him to the best of his
ability while he lay suffering the same agonies.
At last Clayton became so weak that he was no longer
able to descend from the shelter. For a day he suffered for
water without appealing to the Russian, but finally, unable
to endure it longer, he asked Thuran to fetch him a drink.
The Russian came to the entrance to Clayton's room, a
dish of water in his hand. A nasty grin contorted his features.
"Here is water," he said. "But first let me remind you that
you maligned me before the girl--that you kept her to
yourself, and would not share her with me--"
Clayton interrupted him. "Stop!" he cried. Stop!
What manner of cur are you that you traduce the character
of a good woman whom we believe dead! God! I was a fool
ever to let you live--you are not fit to live even in
this vile land."
"Here is your water," said the Russian. "All you will
get," and he raised the basin to his lips and drank; what
was left he threw out upon the ground below. Then he turned
and left the sick man.
Clayton rolled over, and, burying his face in his arms, gave
up the battle.
The next day Thuran determined to set out toward the
north along the coast, for he knew that eventually he must
come to the habitations of civilized men--at least he could
be no worse off than he was here, and, furthermore, the
ravings of the dying Englishman were getting on his nerves.
So he stole Clayton's spear and set off upon his journey.
He would have killed the sick man before he left had it not
occurred to him that it would really have been a kindness
to do so.
That same day he came to a little cabin by the beach,
and his heart filled with renewed hope as he saw this
evidence of the proximity of civilization, for he thought it
but the outpost of a nearby settlement. Had he known to
whom it belonged, and that its owner was at that very moment
but a few miles inland, Nikolas Rokoff would have
fled the place as he would a pestilence. But he did not
know, and so he remained for a few days to enjoy the
security and comparative comforts of the cabin. Then he
took up his northward journey once more.
In Lord Tennington's camp preparations were going forward
to build permanent quarters, and then to send out an
expedition of a few men to the north in search of relief.
As the days had passed without bringing the longed-for
succor, hope that Jane Porter, Clayton, and Monsieur Thuran
had been rescued began to die. No one spoke of the matter
longer to Professor Porter, and he was so immersed in his
scientific dreaming that he was not aware of the elapse of time.
Occasionally he would remark that within a few days
they should certainly see a steamer drop anchor off their
shore, and that then they should all be reunited happily.
Sometimes he spoke of it as a train, and wondered if it were
being delayed by snowstorms.
"If I didn't know the dear old fellow so well by now,"
Tennington remarked to Miss Strong, "I should be quite
certain that he was--er--not quite right, don't you know."
"If it were not so pathetic it would be ridiculous," said
the girl, sadly. "I, who have known him all my life, know
how he worships Jane; but to others it must seem that he is
perfectly callous to her fate. It is only that he is so
absolutely impractical that he cannot conceive of so real a
thing as death unless nearly certain proof of it is thrust
"You'd never guess what he was about yesterday,"
continued Tennington. "I was coming in alone from
a little hunt when I met him walking rapidly along the
game trail that I was following back to camp. His hands
were clasped beneath the tails of his long black coat,
and his top hat was set firmly down upon his head,
as with eyes bent upon the ground he hastened on,
probably to some sudden death had I not intercepted him.
"`Why, where in the world are you bound, professor?' I
asked him. `I am going into town, Lord Tennington,' he said,
as seriously as possible, `to complain to the postmaster about
the rural free delivery service we are suffering from here.
Why, sir, I haven't had a piece of mail in weeks. There should
be several letters for me from Jane. The matter must be
reported to Washington at once.'
"And would you believe it, Miss Strong," continued Tennington,
"I had the very deuce of a job to convince the old
fellow that there was not only no rural free delivery, but
no town, and that he was not even on the same continent as
Washington, nor in the same hemisphere.
"When he did realize he commenced to worry about his
daughter--I think it is the first time that he really
has appreciated our position here, or the fact that Miss
Porter may not have been rescued."
"I hate to think about it," said the girl, "and yet I can
think of nothing else than the absent members of our party."
"Let us hope for the best," replied Tennington. "You yourself
have set us each a splendid example of bravery, for in a
way your loss has been the greatest."
"Yes," she replied; "I could have loved Jane Porter no more
had she been my own sister."
Tennington did not show the surprise he felt. That was not
at all what he meant. He had been much with this fair
daughter of Maryland since the wreck of the LADY ALICE,
and it had recently come to him that he had grown much more
fond of her than would prove good for the peace of his mind,
for he recalled almost constantly now the confidence which
Monsieur Thuran had imparted to him that he and Miss Strong
were engaged. He wondered if, after all, Thuran had been
quite accurate in his statement. He had never seen the slightest
indication on the girl's part of more than ordinary friendship.
"And then in Monsieur Thuran's loss, if they are lost, you
would suffer a severe bereavement," he ventured.
She looked up at him quickly. "Monsieur Thuran had become
a very dear friend," she said. "I liked him very much,
though I have known him but a short time."
"Then you were not engaged to marry him?" he blurted out.
"Heavens, nol!" she cried. "I did not care for him at all
in that way."
There was something that Lord Tennington wanted to say
to Hazel Strong--he wanted very badly to say it, and to
say it at once; but somehow the words stuck in his throat.
He started lamely a couple of times, cleared his throat,
became red in the face, and finally ended by remarking
that he hoped the cabins would be finished before the
rainy season commenced.
But, though he did not know it, he had conveyed to the
girl the very message he intended, and it left her happy--
happier than she had ever before been in all her life.
Just then further conversation was interrupted by the sight
of a strange and terrible-looking figure which emerged from
the jungle just south of the camp. Tennington and the girl
saw it at the same time. The Englishman reached for his
revolver, but when the half-naked, bearded creature called
his name aloud and came running toward them he dropped
his hand and advanced to meet it.
None would have recognized in the filthy, emaciated creature,
covered by a single garment of small skins, the immaculate
Monsieur Thuran the party had last seen upon the deck
of the LADY ALICE.
Before the other members of the little community were apprised
of his presence Tennington and Miss Strong questioned him
regarding the other occupants of the missing boat.
"They are all dead," replied Thuran. "The three sailors
died before we made land. Miss Porter was carried off into
the jungle by some wild animal while I was lying delirious
with fever. Clayton died of the same fever but a few days since.
And to think that all this time we have been separated by
but a few miles--scarcely a day's march. It is terrible!"
How long Jane Porter lay in the darkness of the vault beneath
the temple in the ancient city of Opar she did not know.
For a time she was delirious with fever, but after this
passed she commenced slowly to regain her strength.
Every day the woman who brought her food beckoned to her
to arise, but for many days the girl could only shake her
head to indicate that she was too weak.
But eventually she was able to gain her feet, and then to
stagger a few steps by supporting herself with one hand
upon the wall. Her captors now watched her with
increasing interest. The day was approaching, and the
victim was gaining in strength.
Presently the day came, and a young woman whom Jane Porter
had not seen before came with several others to her dungeon.
Here some sort of ceremony was performed--that it was of
a religious nature the girl was sure, and so she took
new heart, and rejoiced that she had fallen among people
upon whom the refining and softening influences of religion
evidently had fallen. They would treat her humanely--of
that she was now quite sure.
And so when they led her from her dungeon, through long,
dark corridors, and up a flight of concrete steps to a brilliant
courtyard, she went willingly, even gladly--for was she not
among the servants of God? It might be, of course, that their
interpretation of the supreme being differed from her own,
but that they owned a God was sufficient evidence to her that
they were kind and good.
But when she saw a stone altar in the center of the courtyard,
and dark-brown stains upon it and the nearby concrete of
the floor, she began to wonder and to doubt. And as they
stooped and bound her ankles, and secured her wrists
behind her, her doubts were turned to fear. A moment later,
as she was lifted and placed supine across the altar's top,
hope left her entirely, and she trembled in an agony of fright.
During the grotesque dance of the votaries which followed,
she lay frozen in horror, nor did she require the sight
of the thin blade in the hands of the high priestess as it
rose slowly above her to enlighten her further as to her doom.
As the hand began its descent, Jane Porter closed her eyes
and sent up a silent prayer to the Maker she was so soon to
face--then she succumbed to the strain upon her tired
nerves, and swooned.
day and night Tarzan of the Apes raced through the primeval
forest toward the ruined city in which he was positive
the woman he loved lay either a prisoner or dead.
In a day and a night he covered the same distance that
the fifty frightful men had taken the better part of a week to
traverse, for Tarzan of the Apes traveled along the middle
terrace high above the tangled obstacles that impede
progress upon the ground.
The story the young bull ape had told made it clear to him
that the girl captive had been Jane Porter, for there was not
another small white "she" in all the jungle. The "bulls" he
had recognized from the ape's crude description as the
grotesque parodies upon humanity who inhabit the ruins of Opar.
And the girl's fate he could picture as plainly as though
he were an eyewitness to it. When they would lay her across
that trim altar he could not guess, but that her dear, frail
body would eventually find its way there he was confident.
But, finally, after what seemed long ages to the impatient
ape-man, he topped the barrier cliffs that hemmed the desolate
valley, and below him lay the grim and awful ruins of
the now hideous city of Opar. At a rapid trot he started
across the dry and dusty, bowlder-strewn ground toward the
goal of his desires.
Would he be in time to rescue? He hoped against hope.
At least he could be revenged, and in his wrath it seemed
to him that he was equal to the task of wiping out the entire
population of that terrible city. It was nearly noon when he
reached the great bowlder at the top of which terminated the
secret passage to the pits beneath the city. Like a cat he scaled
the precipitous sides of the frowning granite KOPJE.
A moment later he was running through the darkness of the
long, straight tunnel that led to the treasure vault.
Through this he passed, then on and on until at last he
came to the well-like shaft upon the opposite side of which
lay the dungeon with the false wall.
As he paused a moment upon the brink of the well a faint
sound came to him through the opening above. His quick
ears caught and translated it--it was the dance of death that
preceded a sacrifice, and the singsong ritual of the
high priestess. He could even recognize the woman's voice.
Could it be that the ceremony marked the very thing he
had so hastened to prevent? A wave of horror swept over him.
Was he, after all, to be just a moment too late? Like a
frightened deer he leaped across the narrow chasm to the
continuation of the passage beyond. At the false wall he
tore like one possessed to demolish the barrier that
confronted him--with giant muscles he forced the opening,
thrusting his head and shoulders through the first small
hole he made, and carrying the balance of the wall with him,
to clatter resoundingly upon the cement floor of the dungeon.
With a single leap he cleared the length of the chamber and
threw himself against the ancient door. But here he stopped.
The mighty bars upon the other side were proof even against
such muscles as his. It needed but a moment's effort to
convince him of the futility of endeavoring to force that
impregnable barrier. There was but one other way, and that
led back through the long tunnels to the bowlder a mile
beyond the city's walls, and then back across the open as
he had come to the city first with his Waziri.
He realized that to retrace his steps and enter the city
from above ground would mean that he would be too late to
save the girl, if it were indeed she who lay upon the sacrificial
altar above him. But there seemed no other way, and so he
turned and ran swiftly back into the passageway beyond the
broken wall. At the well he heard again the monotonous
voice of the high priestess, and, as he glanced aloft, the
opening, twenty feet above, seemed so near that he was
tempted to leap for it in a mad endeavor to reach the inner
courtyard that lay so near.
If he could but get one end of his grass rope caught upon
some projection at the top of that tantalizing aperture!
In the instant's pause and thought an idea occurred to him.
He would attempt it. Turning back to the tumbled wall,
he seized one of the large, flat slabs that had composed it.
Hastily making one end of his rope fast to the piece of granite,
he returned to the shaft, and, coiling the balance of the rope on
the floor beside him, the ape-man took the heavy slab in both
hands, and, swinging it several times to get the distance and
the direction fixed, he let the weight fly up at a slight angle,
so that, instead of falling straight back into the shaft again,
it grazed the far edge, tumbling over into the court beyond.
Tarzan dragged for a moment upon the slack end of the
rope until he felt that the stone was lodged with fair
security at the shaft's top, then he swung out over the black
depths beneath. The moment his full weight came upon the
rope he felt it slip from above. He waited there in awful
suspense as it dropped in little jerks, inch by inch.
The stone was being dragged up the outside of the masonry
surrounding the top of the shaft--would it catch at the very edge,
or would his weight drag it over to fall upon him as he hurtled
into the unknown depths below?
Return of Tarzan Chapter 23
... Return of Tarzan Chapter 25