Bandalier

bandalier

The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim has become the modern-day equivalent to classic in that it can seemingly or platform you can think of. Now, not every platform supports mods on their port of this particular game. Case-in-point would be the Nintendo Switch port, for obvious reasons related to potential hacking and piracy on their platform. It’s - on a related note - also one of the first titles I can think of that has the devs support player mods on their game. DOOM run on just about any console One of these types of mods are the Clothing mods. These are the mods that change your characters’ strengths, carrying weight, etc. They also provide some benefits. The Necromancer outfit increases efficiency in Destruction-based magic attacks, for example. : This guide will go over the following questions in detail and attempt to answer What are clothing mods? How do you apply them in / Skyrim Skyrim Special Edition? What are the best clothing mods for this game? For those not in the know by now, Skyrim and support mods on all consoles (except Nintendo Switch) officially. its’ Special Edition Let’s start answering these questions in order. The first question we’re gonna answer is “What are clothing mods?” What are Clothing Mods in Skyrim? Clothing mods are, generally speaking, simple to complex modifications that add new clothes, armors, rings, etc. into the world of and its’ special edition. They can be found in the wide world of Skyrim, or be crafted at the tanning racks if one isn’t good at finding things. One example is Geralt, and another example is The Flash. Skyrim How to find the Tanning Racks in Skyrim This resource ( ) has a list of all the locations in Skyrim that features a Tanning Rack. A Player character/NPC will do this by crouching and using a knife to scrape a hide. https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:Tanning How to apply clothing mods in Skyrim/Skyrim Special Edition? Applying clothing mods to Skyrim or Skyrim Special Edition can enhance your gameplay experience by introducing new and exciting outfits for your characters. These mods can add variety, improve immersion, and let you customize your character's appearance. Below, I'll guide you through the process of installing and applying clothing mods step by step: Choosing the Mods: Start by browsing modding websites like or the Steam Workshop for Skyrim. Look for clothing mods that suit your taste and are compatible with your game version (Skyrim or Skyrim Special Edition). Nexus Mods Creating a Backup: Before installing any mods, it's essential to create a backup of your game files. This ensures that you can revert to the original state if any issues arise during the installation process. Install a Mod Manager: To make the process smoother, it's recommended to use a mod manager. The most popular one for Skyrim is "Nexus Mod Manager" (NMM) or " ." For Skyrim Special Edition, "Vortex" is generally the go-to mod manager. Vortex Install Skyrim Script Extender (SKSE) (Only for Skyrim, not for Special Edition): Many advanced mods require SKSE to work correctly. Go to the official SKSE website and download the latest version for your game. Follow the installation instructions provided on their website. Download the Clothing Mods: Once you have your mod manager set up, download the clothing mods you want from the modding website of your choice. Usually, mods are downloaded in the form of ".zip" or ".7z" archives. Installing Mods with Nexus Mod Manager (NMM) or Vortex: Click on the "Mod Manager Download" button on the mod page. NMM will automatically handle the download and installation process. In Nexus Mod Manager: Click on the "Mod Manager Download" button on the mod page. Vortex will manage the download and installation process. In Vortex: Activating the Mods: After the mod manager installs the mods, you'll find them listed in the manager's interface. Ensure the checkboxes next to the clothing mods are selected to activate them. The mod manager will take care of the load order and ensure that the mods are correctly placed in the game's data folder. Load Order and Compatibility: Managing load order is crucial, especially if you have multiple mods installed. Certain mods may conflict with each other, causing glitches or crashes. Mod managers usually help sort the load order, but it's good to double-check for compatibility patches if you encounter any issues. Launching the Game: Start the game through the mod manager to ensure that all the installed clothing mods are functioning correctly. If everything is working fine, proceed to the next step. Finding the New Clothing in the Game: After installing the clothing mods, you can find the new outfits in various ways. Some clothing may be added to existing merchants or chests, while others might require crafting at a forge. Refer to the mod's description or the mod author's instructions for information on how to acquire the new clothing in-game. Enjoying the New Clothing: With the mods successfully installed and activated, you can now enjoy the new clothing options for your character. Dress them up in stylish armor sets, elegant robes, or any other outfit you desire. Troubleshooting: If you encounter any issues with the clothing mods, check the mod page for troubleshooting information. The mod author and the modding community often provide solutions to common problems. And Remember, modding is an ongoing process, and updates to both the game and the mods can always affect compatibility. Always check for updates and keep an eye on the modding community for the latest information and support. Enjoy your enhanced Skyrim experience with the new clothing mods! Some of the Best Clothing Mods in Skyrim The world of Skyrim Modding offers a vast array of possibilities to enhance and customize the gaming experience. Among the countless mods available, the best clothing mods for Skyrim truly stand out as they bring a whole new level of immersion, beauty, and practicality to the game. Throughout this exploration of the top clothing mods for Skyrim, we have witnessed the ingenuity and creativity of the Modding community. From the elegant and regal designs of to the weather-appropriate and realistic outfits of these mods go beyond merely changing the appearance of characters. They add depth and authenticity to the game's atmosphere, making it feel more like a living, breathing world. "Immersive Armors" "Winter is Coming," The introduction of advanced physics with mods like and has revolutionized the way clothing behaves in the game. The realistic movement and interaction of garments with the environment make the characters feel more lifelike and believable. Players are now able to witness the swaying of capes in the wind or the flow of skirts as characters move, creating a more immersive and visually appealing experience. "HDT Physics Extensions" "Cloaks of Skyrim" Additionally, the inclusion of practical and functional clothing mods such as "Bandolier: Bags and Pouches" and "Warmonger Armory" not only adds to the realism but also enhances the gameplay. These mods provide the player with storage options, allowing them to carry more items, and offer a wider selection of gear, enabling more strategic approaches to combat and exploration. Furthermore, the versatility and customization options that the "Apachii Divine Elegance Store" brings to the table are unmatched. With an extensive variety of outfits and accessories, players can truly define their characters' style and persona. This mod has expanded the role-playing aspect of Skyrim, allowing players to embody their characters fully and express their unique personalities. The and mods have addressed the long-standing issue of gender representation in Skyrim. These mods provide female characters with armor and clothing designs that are both practical and stylish, avoiding the impractical and sexualized portrayals that were prevalent in the base game. This focus on inclusivity and authenticity is an essential step forward for the modding community and the gaming industry as a whole. "UNP Female Armors" "UNP Minidresses Collection" However, it’s worth mentioning that mods do come with potential drawbacks. The installation and management of multiple mods can be a daunting task for less tech-savvy players, and conflicts between different mods can lead to crashes. Additionally, as the game continues to receive official updates from the developers, some mods may become incompatible or require constant updates to remain functional, which can be frustrating for players who heavily rely on them. Final Thoughts In conclusion, the best clothing mods for Skyrim have significantly enriched the game, pushing the boundaries of what players can experience in this epic fantasy world. From awe-inspiring armors to practical clothing options and diverse styles, these mods have transformed the way we perceive and engage with the game. The dedication and talent of the modding community continue to impress, making Skyrim a timeless masterpiece that evolves with the creative minds of its players. Whether you seek a more immersive role-playing experience, enhanced aesthetics, or practical gear for your adventures, the world of Skyrim modding has something to offer every player. As we eagerly await future developments and expansions, the clothing mods discussed here will undoubtedly remain as some of the most outstanding contributions to the Skyrim modding community, leaving a lasting impact on the game's legacy for years to come.

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The World Under the War

The Forbidden Garden

The Beasts of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Alone in the Jungle Alone in the Jungle Tambudza, leading Tarzan of the Apes toward the camp of the Russian, moved very slowly along the winding jungle path, for she was old and her legs stiff with rheumatism. So it was that the runners dispatched by M’ganwazam to warn Rokoff that the white giant was in his village and that he would be slain that night reached the Russian’s camp before Tarzan and his ancient guide had covered half the distance. The guides found the white man’s camp in a turmoil. Rokoff had that morning been discovered stunned and bleeding within his tent. When he had recovered his senses and realized that Jane Clayton had escaped, his rage was boundless. Rushing about the camp with his rifle, he had sought to shoot down the native sentries who had allowed the young woman to elude their vigilance, but several of the other whites, realizing that they were already in a precarious position owing to the numerous desertions that Rokoff’s cruelty had brought about, seized and disarmed him. Then came the messengers from M’ganwazam, but scarce had they told their story and Rokoff was preparing to depart with them for their village when other runners, panting from the exertions of their swift flight through the jungle, rushed breathless into the firelight, crying that the great white giant had escaped from M’ganwazam and was already on his way to wreak vengeance against his enemies. Instantly confusion reigned within the encircling boma. The blacks belonging to Rokoff’s safari were terror-stricken at the thought of the proximity of the white giant who hunted through the jungle with a fierce pack of apes and panthers at his heels. Before the whites realized what had happened the superstitious fears of the natives had sent them scurrying into the bush—their own carriers as well as the messengers from M’ganwazam—but even in their haste they had not neglected to take with them every article of value upon which they could lay their hands. Thus Rokoff and the seven white sailors found themselves deserted and robbed in the midst of a wilderness. The Russian, following his usual custom, berated his companions, laying all the blame upon their shoulders for the events which had led up to the almost hopeless condition in which they now found themselves; but the sailors were in no mood to brook his insults and his cursing. In the midst of this tirade one of them drew a revolver and fired point-blank at the Russian. The fellow’s aim was poor, but his act so terrified Rokoff that he turned and fled for his tent. As he ran his eyes chanced to pass beyond the boma to the edge of the forest, and there he caught a glimpse of that which sent his craven heart cold with a fear that almost expunged his terror of the seven men at his back, who by this time were all firing in hate and revenge at his retreating figure. What he saw was the giant figure of an almost naked white man emerging from the bush. Darting into his tent, the Russian did not halt in his flight, but kept right on through the rear wall, taking advantage of the long slit that Jane Clayton had made the night before. The terror-stricken Muscovite scurried like a hunted rabbit through the hole that still gaped in the boma’s wall at the point where his own prey had escaped, and as Tarzan approached the camp upon the opposite side Rokoff disappeared into the jungle in the wake of Jane Clayton. As the ape-man entered the boma with old Tambudza at his elbow the seven sailors, recognizing him, turned and fled in the opposite direction. Tarzan saw that Rokoff was not among them, and so he let them go their way—his business was with the Russian, whom he expected to find in his tent. As to the sailors, he was sure that the jungle would exact from them expiation for their villainies, nor, doubtless, was he wrong, for his were the last white man’s eyes to rest upon any of them. Finding Rokoff’s tent empty, Tarzan was about to set out in search of the Russian when Tambudza suggested to him that the departure of the white man could only have resulted from word reaching him from M’ganwazam that Tarzan was in his village. “He has doubtless hastened there,” argued the old woman. “If you would find him let us return at once.” Tarzan himself thought that this would probably prove to be the fact, so he did not waste time in an endeavour to locate the Russian’s trail, but, instead, set out briskly for the village of M’ganwazam, leaving Tambudza to plod slowly in his wake. His one hope was that Jane was still safe and with Rokoff. If this was the case, it would be but a matter of an hour or more before he should be able to wrest her from the Russian. He knew now that M’ganwazam was treacherous and that he might have to fight to regain possession of his wife. He wished that Mugambi, Sheeta, Akut, and the balance of the pack were with him, for he realized that single-handed it would be no child’s play to bring Jane safely from the clutches of two such scoundrels as Rokoff and the wily M’ganwazam. To his surprise he found no sign of either Rokoff or Jane in the village, and as he could not trust the word of the chief, he wasted no time in futile inquiry. So sudden and unexpected had been his return, and so quickly had he vanished into the jungle after learning that those he sought were not among the Waganwazam, that old M’ganwazam had no time to prevent his going. Swinging through the trees, he hastened back to the deserted camp he had so recently left, for here, he knew, was the logical place to take up the trail of Rokoff and Jane. Arrived at the boma, he circled carefully about the outside of the enclosure until, opposite a break in the thorny wall, he came to indications that something had recently passed into the jungle. His acute sense of smell told him that both of those he sought had fled from the camp in this direction, and a moment later he had taken up the trail and was following the faint spoor. Far ahead of him a terror-stricken young woman was slinking along a narrow game-trail, fearful that the next moment would bring her face to face with some savage beast or equally savage man. As she ran on, hoping against hope that she had hit upon the direction that would lead her eventually to the great river, she came suddenly upon a familiar spot. At one side of the trail, beneath a giant tree, lay a little heap of loosely piled brush—to her dying day that little spot of jungle would be indelibly impressed upon her memory. It was where Anderssen had hidden her—where he had given up his life in the vain effort to save her from Rokoff. At sight of it she recalled the rifle and ammunition that the man had thrust upon her at the last moment. Until now she had forgotten them entirely. Still clutched in her hand was the revolver she had snatched from Rokoff’s belt, but that could contain at most not over six cartridges—not enough to furnish her with food and protection both on the long journey to the sea. With bated breath she groped beneath the little mound, scarce daring to hope that the treasure remained where she had left it; but, to her infinite relief and joy, her hand came at once upon the barrel of the heavy weapon and then upon the bandoleer of cartridges. As she threw the latter about her shoulder and felt the weight of the big game-gun in her hand a sudden sense of security suffused her. It was with new hope and a feeling almost of assured success that she again set forward upon her journey. That night she slept in the crotch of a tree, as Tarzan had so often told her that he was accustomed to doing, and early the next morning was upon her way again. Late in the afternoon, as she was about to cross a little clearing, she was startled at the sight of a huge ape coming from the jungle upon the opposite side. The wind was blowing directly across the clearing between them, and Jane lost no time in putting herself downwind from the huge creature. Then she hid in a clump of heavy bush and watched, holding the rifle ready for instant use. To her consternation she saw that the apes were pausing in the centre of the clearing. They came together in a little knot, where they stood looking backward, as though in expectation of the coming of others of their tribe. Jane wished that they would go on, for she knew that at any moment some little, eddying gust of wind might carry her scent down to their nostrils, and then what would the protection of her rifle amount to in the face of those gigantic muscles and mighty fangs? Her eyes moved back and forth between the apes and the edge of the jungle toward which they were gazing until at last she perceived the object of their halt and the thing that they awaited. They were being stalked. Of this she was positive, as she saw the lithe, sinewy form of a panther glide noiselessly from the jungle at the point at which the apes had emerged but a moment before. Quickly the beast trotted across the clearing toward the anthropoids. Jane wondered at their apparent apathy, and a moment later her wonder turned to amazement as she saw the great cat come quite close to the apes, who appeared entirely unconcerned by its presence, and, squatting down in their midst, fell assiduously to the business of preening, which occupies most of the waking hours of the cat family. If the young woman was surprised by the sight of these natural enemies fraternizing, it was with emotions little short of fear for her own sanity that she presently saw a tall, muscular warrior enter the clearing and join the group of savage beasts assembled there. At first sight of the man she had been positive that he would be torn to pieces, and she had half risen from her shelter, raising her rifle to her shoulder to do what she could to avert the man’s terrible fate. Now she saw that he seemed actually conversing with the beasts—issuing orders to them. Presently the entire company filed on across the clearing and disappeared in the jungle upon the opposite side. With a gasp of mingled incredulity and relief Jane Clayton staggered to her feet and fled on away from the terrible horde that had just passed her, while a half-mile behind her another individual, following the same trail as she, lay frozen with terror behind an ant-hill as the hideous band passed quite close to him. This one was Rokoff; but he had recognized the members of the awful aggregation as allies of Tarzan of the Apes. No sooner, therefore, had the beasts passed him than he rose and raced through the jungle as fast as he could go, in order that he might put as much distance as possible between himself and these frightful beasts. So it happened that as Jane Clayton came to the bank of the river, down which she hoped to float to the ocean and eventual rescue, Nikolas Rokoff was but a short distance in her rear. Upon the bank the girl saw a great dugout drawn half-way from the water and tied securely to a near-by tree. This, she felt, would solve the question of transportation to the sea could she but launch the huge, unwieldy craft. Unfastening the rope that had moored it to the tree, Jane pushed frantically upon the bow of the heavy canoe, but for all the results that were apparent she might as well have been attempting to shove the earth out of its orbit. She was about winded when it occurred to her to try working the dugout into the stream by loading the stern with ballast and then rocking the bow back and forth along the bank until the craft eventually worked itself into the river. There were no stones or rocks available, but along the shore she found quantities of driftwood deposited by the river at a slightly higher stage. These she gathered and piled far in the stern of the boat, until at last, to her immense relief, she saw the bow rise gently from the mud of the bank and the stern drift slowly with the current until it again lodged a few feet farther down-stream. Jane found that by running back and forth between the bow and stern she could alternately raise and lower each end of the boat as she shifted her weight from one end to the other, with the result that each time she leaped to the stern the canoe moved a few inches farther into the river. As the success of her plan approached more closely to fruition she became so wrapped in her efforts that she failed to note the figure of a man standing beneath a huge tree at the edge of the jungle from which he had just emerged. He watched her and her labours with a cruel and malicious grin upon his swarthy countenance. The boat at last became so nearly free of the retarding mud and of the bank that Jane felt positive that she could pole it off into deeper water with one of the paddles which lay in the bottom of the rude craft. With this end in view she seized upon one of these implements and had just plunged it into the river bottom close to the shore when her eyes happened to rise to the edge of the jungle. As her gaze fell upon the figure of the man a little cry of terror rose to her lips. It was Rokoff. He was running toward her now and shouting to her to wait or he would shoot—though as he was entirely unarmed it was difficult to discover just how he intended making good his threat. Jane Clayton knew nothing of the various misfortunes that had befallen the Russian since she had escaped from his tent, so she believed that his followers must be close at hand. However, she had no intention of falling again into the man’s clutches. She would rather die at once than that that should happen to her. Another minute and the boat would be free. Once in the current of the river she would be beyond Rokoff’s power to stop her, for there was no other boat upon the shore, and no man, and certainly not the cowardly Rokoff, would dare to attempt to swim the crocodile-infested water in an effort to overtake her. Rokoff, on his part, was bent more upon escape than aught else. He would gladly have forgone any designs he might have had upon Jane Clayton would she but permit him to share this means of escape that she had discovered. He would promise anything if she would let him come aboard the dugout, but he did not think that it was necessary to do so. He saw that he could easily reach the bow of the boat before it cleared the shore, and then it would not be necessary to make promises of any sort. Not that Rokoff would have felt the slightest compunction in ignoring any promises he might have made the girl, but he disliked the idea of having to sue for favour with one who had so recently assaulted and escaped him. Already he was gloating over the days and nights of revenge that would be his while the heavy dugout drifted its slow way to the ocean. Jane Clayton, working furiously to shove the boat beyond his reach, suddenly realized that she was to be successful, for with a little lurch the dugout swung quickly into the current, just as the Russian reached out to place his hand upon its bow. His fingers did not miss their goal by a half-dozen inches. The girl almost collapsed with the reaction from the terrific mental, physical, and nervous strain under which she had been labouring for the past few minutes. But, thank Heaven, at last she was safe! Even as she breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving, she saw a sudden expression of triumph lighten the features of the cursing Russian, and at the same instant he dropped suddenly to the ground, grasping firmly upon something which wriggled through the mud toward the water. Jane Clayton crouched, wide-eyed and horror-stricken, in the bottom of the boat as she realized that at the last instant success had been turned to failure, and that she was indeed again in the power of the malignant Rokoff. For the thing that the man had seen and grasped was the end of the trailing rope with which the dugout had been moored to the tree. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edgar Rice Burroughs (1993). The Beasts of Tarzan. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/85/pg85-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

Alone in the Jungle

The Beasts of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . A Black Scoundrel here A Black Scoundrel When Jane Clayton regained consciousness she saw Anderssen standing over her, holding the baby in his arms. As her eyes rested upon them an expression of misery and horror overspread her countenance. “What is the matter?” he asked. “You ban sick?” “Where is my baby?” she cried, ignoring his questions. Anderssen held out the chubby infant, but she shook her head. “It is not mine,” she said. “You knew that it was not mine. You are a devil like the Russian.” Anderssen’s blue eyes stretched in surprise. “Not yours!” he exclaimed. “You tole me the kid aboard the Kincaid ban your kid.” “Not this one,” replied Jane dully. “The other. Where is the other? There must have been two. I did not know about this one.” “There vasn’t no other kid. Ay tank this ban yours. Ay am very sorry.” Anderssen fidgeted about, standing first on one foot and then upon the other. It was perfectly evident to Jane that he was honest in his protestations of ignorance of the true identity of the child. Presently the baby commenced to crow, and bounce up and down in the Swede’s arms, at the same time leaning forward with little hands out-reaching toward the young woman. She could not withstand the appeal, and with a low cry she sprang to her feet and gathered the baby to her breast. For a few minutes she wept silently, her face buried in the baby’s soiled little dress. The first shock of disappointment that the tiny thing had not been her beloved Jack was giving way to a great hope that after all some miracle had occurred to snatch her baby from Rokoff’s hands at the last instant before the Kincaid sailed from England. Then, too, there was the mute appeal of this wee waif alone and unloved in the midst of the horrors of the savage jungle. It was this thought more than any other that had sent her mother’s heart out to the innocent babe, while still she suffered from disappointment that she had been deceived in its identity. “Have you no idea whose child this is?” she asked Anderssen. The man shook his head. “Not now,” he said. “If he ain’t ban your kid, Ay don’ know whose kid he do ban. Rokoff said it was yours. Ay tank he tank so, too. “What do we do with it now? Ay can’t go back to the Kincaid. Rokoff would have me shot; but you can go back. Ay take you to the sea, and then some of these black men they take you to the ship—eh?” “No! no!” cried Jane. “Not for the world. I would rather die than fall into the hands of that man again. No, let us go on and take this poor little creature with us. If God is willing we shall be saved in one way or another.” So they again took up their flight through the wilderness, taking with them a half-dozen of the Mosulas to carry provisions and the tents that Anderssen had smuggled aboard the small boat in preparation for the attempted escape. The days and nights of torture that the young woman suffered were so merged into one long, unbroken nightmare of hideousness that she soon lost all track of time. Whether they had been wandering for days or years she could not tell. The one bright spot in that eternity of fear and suffering was the little child whose tiny hands had long since fastened their softly groping fingers firmly about her heart. In a way the little thing took the place and filled the aching void that the theft of her own baby had left. It could never be the same, of course, but yet, day by day, she found her mother-love, enveloping the waif more closely until she sometimes sat with closed eyes lost in the sweet imagining that the little bundle of humanity at her breast was truly her own. For some time their progress inland was extremely slow. Word came to them from time to time through natives passing from the coast on hunting excursions that Rokoff had not yet guessed the direction of their flight. This, and the desire to make the journey as light as possible for the gently bred woman, kept Anderssen to a slow advance of short and easy marches with many rests. The Swede insisted upon carrying the child while they travelled, and in countless other ways did what he could to help Jane Clayton conserve her strength. He had been terribly chagrined on discovering the mistake he had made in the identity of the baby, but once the young woman became convinced that his motives were truly chivalrous she would not permit him longer to upbraid himself for the error that he could not by any means have avoided. At the close of each day’s march Anderssen saw to the erection of a comfortable shelter for Jane and the child. Her tent was always pitched in the most favourable location. The thorn boma round it was the strongest and most impregnable that the Mosula could construct. Her food was the best that their limited stores and the rifle of the Swede could provide, but the thing that touched her heart the closest was the gentle consideration and courtesy which the man always accorded her. That such nobility of character could lie beneath so repulsive an exterior never ceased to be a source of wonder and amazement to her, until at last the innate chivalry of the man, and his unfailing kindliness and sympathy transformed his appearance in so far as Jane was concerned until she saw only the sweetness of his character mirrored in his countenance. They had commenced to make a little better progress when word reached them that Rokoff was but a few marches behind them, and that he had at last discovered the direction of their flight. It was then that Anderssen took to the river, purchasing a canoe from a chief whose village lay a short distance from the Ugambi upon the bank of a tributary. Thereafter the little party of fugitives fled up the broad Ugambi, and so rapid had their flight become that they no longer received word of their pursuers. At the end of canoe navigation upon the river, they abandoned their canoe and took to the jungle. Here progress became at once arduous, slow, and dangerous. The second day after leaving the Ugambi the baby fell ill with fever. Anderssen knew what the outcome must be, but he had not the heart to tell Jane Clayton the truth, for he had seen that the young woman had come to love the child almost as passionately as though it had been her own flesh and blood. As the baby’s condition precluded farther advance, Anderssen withdrew a little from the main trail he had been following and built a camp in a natural clearing on the bank of a little river. Here Jane devoted her every moment to caring for the tiny sufferer, and as though her sorrow and anxiety were not all that she could bear, a further blow came with the sudden announcement of one of the Mosula porters who had been foraging in the jungle adjacent that Rokoff and his party were camped quite close to them, and were evidently upon their trail to this little nook which all had thought so excellent a hiding-place. This information could mean but one thing, and that they must break camp and fly onward regardless of the baby’s condition. Jane Clayton knew the traits of the Russian well enough to be positive that he would separate her from the child the moment that he recaptured them, and she knew that separation would mean the immediate death of the baby. As they stumbled forward through the tangled vegetation along an old and almost overgrown game trail the Mosula porters deserted them one by one. The men had been staunch enough in their devotion and loyalty as long as they were in no danger of being overtaken by the Russian and his party. They had heard, however, so much of the atrocious disposition of Rokoff that they had grown to hold him in mortal terror, and now that they knew he was close upon them their timid hearts would fortify them no longer, and as quickly as possible they deserted the three whites. Yet on and on went Anderssen and the girl. The Swede went ahead, to hew a way through the brush where the path was entirely overgrown, so that on this march it was necessary that the young woman carry the child. All day they marched. Late in the afternoon they realized that they had failed. Close behind them they heard the noise of a large safari advancing along the trail which they had cleared for their pursuers. When it became quite evident that they must be overtaken in a short time Anderssen hid Jane behind a large tree, covering her and the child with brush. “There is a village about a mile farther on,” he said to her. “The Mosula told me its location before they deserted us. Ay try to lead the Russian off your trail, then you go on to the village. Ay tank the chief ban friendly to white men—the Mosula tal me he ban. Anyhow, that was all we can do. “After while you get chief to tak you down by the Mosula village at the sea again, an’ after a while a ship is sure to put into the mouth of the Ugambi. Then you be all right. Gude-by an’ gude luck to you, lady!” “But where are you going, Sven?” asked Jane. “Why can’t you hide here and go back to the sea with me?” “Ay gotta tal the Russian you ban dead, so that he don’t luke for you no more,” and Anderssen grinned. “Why can’t you join me then after you have told him that?” insisted the girl. Anderssen shook his head. “Ay don’t tank Ay join anybody any more after Ay tal the Russian you ban dead,” he said. “You don’t mean that you think he will kill you?” asked Jane, and yet in her heart she knew that that was exactly what the great scoundrel would do in revenge for his having been thwarted by the Swede. Anderssen did not reply, other than to warn her to silence and point toward the path along which they had just come. “I don’t care,” whispered Jane Clayton. “I shall not let you die to save me if I can prevent it in any way. Give me your revolver. I can use that, and together we may be able to hold them off until we can find some means of escape.” “It won’t work, lady,” replied Anderssen. “They would only get us both, and then Ay couldn’t do you no good at all. Think of the kid, lady, and what it would be for you both to fall into Rokoff’s hands again. For his sake you must do what Ay say. Here, take my rifle and ammunition; you may need them.” He shoved the gun and bandoleer into the shelter beside Jane. Then he was gone. She watched him as he returned along the path to meet the oncoming safari of the Russian. Soon a turn in the trail hid him from view. Her first impulse was to follow. With the rifle she might be of assistance to him, and, further, she could not bear the terrible thought of being left alone at the mercy of the fearful jungle without a single friend to aid her. She started to crawl from her shelter with the intention of running after Anderssen as fast as she could. As she drew the baby close to her she glanced down into its little face. How red it was! How unnatural the little thing looked. She raised the cheek to hers. It was fiery hot with fever! With a little gasp of terror Jane Clayton rose to her feet in the jungle path. The rifle and bandoleer lay forgotten in the shelter beside her. Anderssen was forgotten, and Rokoff, and her great peril. All that rioted through her fear-mad brain was the fearful fact that this little, helpless child was stricken with the terrible jungle-fever, and that she was helpless to do aught to allay its sufferings—sufferings that were sure to come during ensuing intervals of partial consciousness. Her one thought was to find some one who could help her—some woman who had had children of her own—and with the thought came recollection of the friendly village of which Anderssen had spoken. If she could but reach it—in time! There was no time to be lost. Like a startled antelope she turned and fled up the trail in the direction Anderssen had indicated. From far behind came the sudden shouting of men, the sound of shots, and then silence. She knew that Anderssen had met the Russian. A half-hour later she stumbled, exhausted, into a little thatched village. Instantly she was surrounded by men, women, and children. Eager, curious, excited natives plied her with a hundred questions, no one of which she could understand or answer. All that she could do was to point tearfully at the baby, now wailing piteously in her arms, and repeat over and over, “Fever—fever—fever.” The blacks did not understand her words, but they saw the cause of her trouble, and soon a young woman had pulled her into a hut and with several others was doing her poor best to quiet the child and allay its agony. The witch doctor came and built a little fire before the infant, upon which he boiled some strange concoction in a small earthen pot, making weird passes above it and mumbling strange, monotonous chants. Presently he dipped a zebra’s tail into the brew, and with further mutterings and incantations sprinkled a few drops of the liquid over the baby’s face. After he had gone the women sat about and moaned and wailed until Jane thought that she should go mad; but, knowing that they were doing it all out of the kindness of their hearts, she endured the frightful waking nightmare of those awful hours in dumb and patient suffering. It must have been well toward midnight that she became conscious of a sudden commotion in the village. She heard the voices of the natives raised in controversy, but she could not understand the words. Presently she heard footsteps approaching the hut in which she squatted before a bright fire with the baby on her lap. The little thing lay very still now, its lids, half-raised, showed the pupils horribly upturned. Jane Clayton looked into the little face with fear-haunted eyes. It was not her baby—not her flesh and blood—but how close, how dear the tiny, helpless thing had become to her. Her heart, bereft of its own, had gone out to this poor, little, nameless waif, and lavished upon it all the love that had been denied her during the long, bitter weeks of her captivity aboard the Kincaid. She saw that the end was near, and though she was terrified at contemplation of her loss, still she hoped that it would come quickly now and end the sufferings of the little victim. The footsteps she had heard without the hut now halted before the door. There was a whispered colloquy, and a moment later M’ganwazam, chief of the tribe, entered. She had seen but little of him, as the women had taken her in hand almost as soon as she had entered the village. M’ganwazam, she now saw, was an evil-appearing savage with every mark of brutal degeneracy writ large upon his bestial countenance. To Jane Clayton he looked more gorilla than human. He tried to converse with her, but without success, and finally he called to some one without. In answer to his summons another Negro entered—a man of very different appearance from M’ganwazam—so different, in fact, that Jane Clayton immediately decided that he was of another tribe. This man acted as interpreter, and almost from the first question that M’ganwazam put to her, Jane felt an intuitive conviction that the savage was attempting to draw information from her for some ulterior motive. She thought it strange that the fellow should so suddenly have become interested in her plans, and especially in her intended destination when her journey had been interrupted at his village. Seeing no reason for withholding the information, she told him the truth; but when he asked if she expected to meet her husband at the end of the trip, she shook her head negatively. Then he told her the purpose of his visit, talking through the interpreter. “I have just learned,” he said, “from some men who live by the side of the great water, that your husband followed you up the Ugambi for several marches, when he was at last set upon by natives and killed. Therefore I have told you this that you might not waste your time in a long journey if you expected to meet your husband at the end of it; but instead could turn and retrace your steps to the coast.” Jane thanked M’ganwazam for his kindness, though her heart was numb with suffering at this new blow. She who had suffered so much was at last beyond reach of the keenest of misery’s pangs, for her senses were numbed and calloused. With bowed head she sat staring with unseeing eyes upon the face of the baby in her lap. M’ganwazam had left the hut. Sometime later she heard a noise at the entrance—another had entered. One of the women sitting opposite her threw a faggot upon the dying embers of the fire between them. With a sudden flare it burst into renewed flame, lighting up the hut’s interior as though by magic. The flame disclosed to Jane Clayton’s horrified gaze that the baby was quite dead. How long it had been so she could not guess. A choking lump rose to her throat, her head drooped in silent misery upon the little bundle that she had caught suddenly to her breast. For a moment the silence of the hut was unbroken. Then the native woman broke into a hideous wail. A man coughed close before Jane Clayton and spoke her name. With a start she raised her eyes to look into the sardonic countenance of Nikolas Rokoff. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edgar Rice Burroughs (1993). The Beasts of Tarzan. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/85/pg85-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

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