Kado

The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . John Caldwell, London John Caldwell, London As Numa el adrea launched himself with widespread paws and bared fangs he looked to find this puny man as easy prey as the score who had gone down beneath him in the past. To him man was a clumsy, slow-moving, defenseless creature—he had little respect for him. But this time he found that he was pitted against a creature as agile and as quick as himself. When his mighty frame struck the spot where the man had been he was no longer there. The watching girl was transfixed by astonishment at the ease with which the crouching man eluded the great paws. And now, O Allah! He had rushed in behind el adrea’s shoulder even before the beast could turn, and had grasped him by the mane. The lion reared upon his hind legs like a horse—Tarzan had known that he would do this, and he was ready. A giant arm encircled the black-maned throat, and once, twice, a dozen times a sharp blade darted in and out of the bay-black side behind the left shoulder. Frantic were the leaps of Numa—awful his roars of rage and pain; but the giant upon his back could not be dislodged or brought within reach of fangs or talons in the brief interval of life that remained to the lord with the large head. He was quite dead when Tarzan of the Apes released his hold and arose. Then the daughter of the desert witnessed a thing that terrified her even more than had the presence of el adrea. The man placed a foot upon the carcass of his kill, and, with his handsome face raised toward the full moon, gave voice to the most frightful cry that ever had smote upon her ears. With a little cry of fear she shrank away from him—she thought that the fearful strain of the encounter had driven him mad. As the last note of that fiendish challenge died out in the diminishing echoes of the distance the man dropped his eyes until they rested upon the girl. Instantly his face was lighted by the kindly smile that was ample assurance of his sanity, and the girl breathed freely once again, smiling in response. “What manner of man are you?” she asked. “The thing you have done is unheard of. Even now I cannot believe that it is possible for a lone man armed only with a knife to have fought hand to hand with el adrea and conquered him, unscathed—to have conquered him at all. And that cry—it was not human. Why did you do that?” Tarzan flushed. “It is because I forget,” he said, “sometimes, that I am a civilized man. When I kill it must be that I am another creature.” He did not try to explain further, for it always seemed to him that a woman must look with loathing upon one who was yet so nearly a beast. Together they continued their journey. The sun was an hour high when they came out into the desert again beyond the mountains. Beside a little rivulet they found the girl’s horses grazing. They had come this far on their way home, and with the cause of their fear no longer present had stopped to feed. With little trouble Tarzan and the girl caught them, and, mounting, rode out into the desert toward the douar of Sheik Kadour ben Saden. No sign of pursuit developed, and they came in safety about nine o’clock to their destination. The sheik had but just returned. He was frantic with grief at the absence of his daughter, whom he thought had been again abducted by the marauders. With fifty men he was already mounted to go in search of her when the two rode into the douar. His joy at the safe return of his daughter was only equaled by his gratitude to Tarzan for bringing her safely to him through the dangers of the night, and his thankfulness that she had been in time to save the man who had once saved her. No honor that Kadour ben Saden could heap upon the ape-man in acknowledgment of his esteem and friendship was neglected. When the girl had recited the story of the slaying of el adrea Tarzan was surrounded by a mob of worshiping Arabs—it was a sure road to their admiration and respect. The old sheik insisted that Tarzan remain indefinitely as his guest. He even wished to adopt him as a member of the tribe, and there was for some time a half-formed resolution in the ape-man’s mind to accept and remain forever with these wild people, whom he understood and who seemed to understand him. His friendship and liking for the girl were potent factors in urging him toward an affirmative decision. Had she been a man, he argued, he should not have hesitated, for it would have meant a friend after his own heart, with whom he could ride and hunt at will; but as it was they would be hedged by the conventionalities that are even more strictly observed by the wild nomads of the desert than by their more civilized brothers and sisters. And in a little while she would be married to one of these swarthy warriors, and there would be an end to their friendship. So he decided against the sheik’s proposal, though he remained a week as his guest. When he left, Kadour ben Saden and fifty white-robed warriors rode with him to Bou Saada. While they were mounting in the douar of Kadour ben Saden the morning of their departure, the girl came to bid farewell to Tarzan. “I have prayed that you would remain with us,” she said simply, as he leaned from his saddle to clasp her hand in farewell, “and now I shall pray that you will return.” There was an expression of wistfulness in her beautiful eyes, and a pathetic droop at the corners of her mouth. Tarzan was touched. “Who knows?” and then he turned and rode after the departing Arabs. Outside Bou Saada he bade Kadour ben Saden and his men good-by, for there were reasons which made him wish to make his entry into the town as secret as possible, and when he had explained them to the sheik the latter concurred in his decision. The Arabs were to enter Bou Saada ahead of him, saying nothing as to his presence with them. Later Tarzan would come in alone, and go directly to an obscure native inn. Thus, making his entrance after dark, as he did, he was not seen by any one who knew him, and reached the inn unobserved. After dining with Kadour ben Saden as his guest, he went to his former hotel by a roundabout way, and, coming in by a rear entrance, sought the proprietor, who seemed much surprised to see him alive. Yes, there was mail for monsieur; he would fetch it. No, he would mention monsieur’s return to no one. Presently he returned with a packet of letters. One was an order from his superior to lay off on his present work, and hasten to Cape Town by the first steamer he could get. His further instructions would be awaiting him there in the hands of another agent whose name and address were given. That was all—brief but explicit. Tarzan arranged to leave Bou Saada early the next morning. Then he started for the garrison to see Captain Gerard, whom the hotel man had told him had returned with his detachment the previous day. He found the officer in his quarters. He was filled with surprise and pleasure at seeing Tarzan alive and well. “When Lieutenant Gernois returned and reported that he had not found you at the spot that you had chosen to remain while the detachment was scouting, I was filled with alarm. We searched the mountain for days. Then came word that you had been killed and eaten by a lion. As proof your gun was brought to us. Your horse had returned to camp the second day after your disappearance. We could not doubt. Lieutenant Gernois was grief-stricken—he took all the blame upon himself. It was he who insisted on carrying on the search himself. It was he who found the Arab with your gun. He will be delighted to know that you are safe.” “Doubtless,” said Tarzan, with a grim smile. “He is down in the town now, or I should send for him,” continued Captain Gerard. “I shall tell him as soon as he returns.” Tarzan let the officer think that he had been lost, wandering finally into the douar of Kadour ben Saden, who had escorted him back to Bou Saada. As soon as possible he bade the good officer adieu, and hastened back into the town. At the native inn he had learned through Kadour ben Saden a piece of interesting information. It told of a black-bearded white man who went always disguised as an Arab. For a time he had nursed a broken wrist. More recently he had been away from Bou Saada, but now he was back, and Tarzan knew his place of concealment. It was for there he headed. Through narrow, stinking alleys, black as Erebus, he groped, and then up a rickety stairway, at the end of which was a closed door and a tiny, unglazed window. The window was high under the low eaves of the mud building. Tarzan could just reach the sill. He raised himself slowly until his eyes topped it. The room within was lighted, and at a table sat Rokoff and Gernois. Gernois was speaking. “Rokoff, you are a devil!” he was saying. “You have hounded me until I have lost the last shred of my honor. You have driven me to murder, for the blood of that man Tarzan is on my hands. If it were not that that other devil’s spawn, Paulvitch, still knew my secret, I should kill you here tonight with my bare hands.” Rokoff laughed. “You would not do that, my dear lieutenant,” he said. “The moment I am reported dead by assassination that dear Alexis will forward to the minister of war full proof of the affair you so ardently long to conceal; and, further, will charge you with my murder. Come, be sensible. I am your best friend. Have I not protected your honor as though it were my own?” Gernois sneered, and spat out an oath. “Just one more little payment,” continued Rokoff, “and the papers I wish, and you have my word of honor that I shall never ask another cent from you, or further information.” “And a good reason why,” growled Gernois. “What you ask will take my last cent, and the only valuable military secret I hold. You ought to be paying me for the information, instead of taking both it and money, too.” “I am paying you by keeping a still tongue in my head,” retorted Rokoff. “But let’s have done. Will you, or will you not? I give you three minutes to decide. If you are not agreeable I shall send a note to your commandant tonight that will end in the degradation that Dreyfus suffered—the only difference being that he did not deserve it.” For a moment Gernois sat with bowed head. At length he arose. He drew two pieces of paper from his blouse. “Here,” he said hopelessly. “I had them ready, for I knew that there could be but one outcome.” He held them toward the Russian. Rokoff’s cruel face lighted in malignant gloating. He seized the bits of paper. “You have done well, Gernois,” he said. “I shall not trouble you again—unless you happen to accumulate some more money or information,” and he grinned. “You never shall again, you dog!” hissed Gernois. “The next time I shall kill you. I came near doing it tonight. For an hour I sat with these two pieces of paper on my table before me ere I came here—beside them lay my loaded revolver. I was trying to decide which I should bring. Next time the choice shall be easier, for I already have decided. You had a close call tonight, Rokoff; do not tempt fate a second time.” Then Gernois rose to leave. Tarzan barely had time to drop to the landing and shrink back into the shadows on the far side of the door. Even then he scarcely hoped to elude detection. The landing was very small, and though he flattened himself against the wall at its far edge he was scarcely more than a foot from the doorway. Almost immediately it opened, and Gernois stepped out. Rokoff was behind him. Neither spoke. Gernois had taken perhaps three steps down the stairway when he halted and half turned, as though to retrace his steps. Tarzan knew that discovery would be inevitable. Rokoff still stood on the threshold a foot from him, but he was looking in the opposite direction, toward Gernois. Then the officer evidently reconsidered his decision, and resumed his downward course. Tarzan could hear Rokoff’s sigh of relief. A moment later the Russian went back into the room and closed the door. Tarzan waited until Gernois had had time to get well out of hearing, then he pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He was on top of Rokoff before the man could rise from the chair where he sat scanning the paper Gernois had given him. As his eyes turned and fell upon the ape-man’s face his own went livid. “You!” he gasped. “I,” replied Tarzan. “What do you want?” whispered Rokoff, for the look in the ape-man’s eyes frightened him. “Have you come to kill me? You do not dare. They would guillotine you. You do not dare kill me.” “I dare kill you, Rokoff,” replied Tarzan, “for no one knows that you are here or that I am here, and Paulvitch would tell them that it was Gernois. I heard you tell Gernois so. But that would not influence me, Rokoff. I would not care who knew that I had killed you; the pleasure of killing you would more than compensate for any punishment they might inflict upon me. You are the most despicable cur of a coward, Rokoff, I have ever heard of. You should be killed. I should love to kill you,” and Tarzan approached closer to the man. Rokoff’s nerves were keyed to the breaking point. With a shriek he sprang toward an adjoining room, but the ape-man was upon his back while his leap was yet but half completed. Iron fingers sought his throat—the great coward squealed like a stuck pig, until Tarzan had shut off his wind. Then the ape-man dragged him to his feet, still choking him. The Russian struggled futilely—he was like a babe in the mighty grasp of Tarzan of the Apes. Tarzan sat him in a chair, and long before there was danger of the man’s dying he released his hold upon his throat. When the Russian’s coughing spell had abated Tarzan spoke to him again. “I have given you a taste of the suffering of death,” he said. “But I shall not kill—this time. I am sparing you solely for the sake of a very good woman whose great misfortune it was to have been born of the same woman who gave birth to you. But I shall spare you only this once on her account. Should I ever learn that you have again annoyed her or her husband—should you ever annoy me again—should I hear that you have returned to France or to any French possession, I shall make it my sole business to hunt you down and complete the choking I commenced tonight.” Then he turned to the table, on which the two pieces of paper still lay. As he picked them up Rokoff gasped in horror. Tarzan examined both the check and the other. He was amazed at the information the latter contained. Rokoff had partially read it, but Tarzan knew that no one could remember the salient facts and figures it held which made it of real value to an enemy of France. “These will interest the chief of staff,” he said, as he slipped them into his pocket. Rokoff groaned. He did not dare curse aloud. The next morning Tarzan rode north on his way to Bouira and Algiers. As he had ridden past the hotel Lieutenant Gernois was standing on the veranda. As his eyes discovered Tarzan he went white as chalk. The ape-man would have been glad had the meeting not occurred, but he could not avoid it. He saluted the officer as he rode past. Mechanically Gernois returned the salute, but those terrible, wide eyes followed the horseman, expressionless except for horror. It was as though a dead man looked upon a ghost. At Sidi Aissa Tarzan met a French officer with whom he had become acquainted on the occasion of his recent sojourn in the town. “You left Bou Saada early?” questioned the officer. “Then you have not heard about poor Gernois.” “He was the last man I saw as I rode away,” replied Tarzan. “What about him?” “He is dead. He shot himself about eight o’clock this morning.” Two days later Tarzan reached Algiers. There he found that he would have a two days’ wait before he could catch a ship bound for Cape Town. He occupied his time in writing out a full report of his mission. The secret papers he had taken from Rokoff he did not inclose, for he did not dare trust them out of his own possession until he had been authorized to turn them over to another agent, or himself return to Paris with them. As Tarzan boarded his ship after what seemed a most tedious wait to him, two men watched him from an upper deck. Both were fashionably dressed and smooth shaven. The taller of the two had sandy hair, but his eyebrows were very black. Later in the day they chanced to meet Tarzan on deck, but as one hurriedly called his companion’s attention to something at sea their faces were turned from Tarzan as he passed, so that he did not notice their features. In fact, he had paid no attention to them at all. Following the instructions of his chief, Tarzan had booked his passage under an assumed name—John Caldwell, London. He did not understand the necessity of this, and it caused him considerable speculation. He wondered what role he was to play in Cape Town. “Well,” he thought, “thank Heaven that I am rid of Rokoff. He was commencing to annoy me. I wonder if I am really becoming so civilized that presently I shall develop a set of nerves. He would give them to me if any one could, for he does not fight fair. One never knows through what new agency he is going to strike. It is as though Numa, the lion, had induced Tantor, the elephant, and Histah, the snake, to join him in attempting to kill me. I would then never have known what minute, or by whom, I was to be attacked next. But the brutes are more chivalrous than man—they do not stoop to cowardly intrigue.” At dinner that night Tarzan sat next to a young woman whose place was at the captain’s left. The officer introduced them. Miss Strong! Where had he heard the name before? It was very familiar. And then the girl’s mother gave him the clew, for when she addressed her daughter she called her Hazel. Hazel Strong! What memories the name inspired. It had been a letter to this girl, penned by the fair hand of Jane Porter, that had carried to him the first message from the woman he loved. How vividly he recalled the night he had stolen it from the desk in the cabin of his long-dead father, where Jane Porter had sat writing it late into the night, while he crouched in the darkness without. How terror-stricken she would have been that night had she known that the wild jungle beast squatted outside her window, watching her every move. And this was Hazel Strong—Jane Porter’s best friend! 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 Return of Tarzan. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/81/pg81-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 .

John Caldwell, London

The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Through the Valley of the Shadow Through the Valley of the Shadow As Tarzan walked down the wild cañon beneath the brilliant African moon the call of the jungle was strong upon him. The solitude and the savage freedom filled his heart with life and buoyancy. Again he was Tarzan of the Apes—every sense alert against the chance of surprise by some jungle enemy—yet treading lightly and with head erect, in proud consciousness of his might. The nocturnal sounds of the mountains were new to him, yet they fell upon his ears like the soft voice of a half-forgotten love. Many he intuitively sensed—ah, there was one that was familiar indeed; the distant coughing of Sheeta, the leopard; but there was a strange note in the final wail which made him doubt. It was a panther he heard. Presently a new sound—a soft, stealthy sound—obtruded itself among the others. No human ears other than the ape-man’s would have detected it. At first he did not translate it, but finally he realized that it came from the bare feet of a number of human beings. They were behind him, and they were coming toward him quietly. He was being stalked. In a flash he knew why he had been left in that little valley by Gernois; but there had been a hitch in the arrangements—the men had come too late. Closer and closer came the footsteps. Tarzan halted and faced them, his rifle ready in his hand. Now he caught a fleeting glimpse of a white burnoose. He called aloud in French, asking what they would of him. His reply was the flash of a long gun, and with the sound of the shot Tarzan of the Apes plunged forward upon his face. The Arabs did not rush out immediately; instead, they waited to be sure that their victim did not rise. Then they came rapidly from their concealment, and bent over him. It was soon apparent that he was not dead. One of the men put the muzzle of his gun to the back of Tarzan’s head to finish him, but another waved him aside. “If we bring him alive the reward is to be greater,” explained the latter. So they bound his hands and feet, and, picking him up, placed him on the shoulders of four of their number. Then the march was resumed toward the desert. When they had come out of the mountains they turned toward the south, and about daylight came to the spot where their horses stood in care of two of their number. From here on their progress was more rapid. Tarzan, who had regained consciousness, was tied to a spare horse, which they evidently had brought for the purpose. His wound was but a slight scratch, which had furrowed the flesh across his temple. It had stopped bleeding, but the dried and clotted blood smeared his face and clothing. He had said no word since he had fallen into the hands of these Arabs, nor had they addressed him other than to issue a few brief commands to him when the horses had been reached. For six hours they rode rapidly across the burning desert, avoiding the oases near which their way led. About noon they came to a douar of about twenty tents. Here they halted, and as one of the Arabs was releasing the alfa-grass ropes which bound him to his mount they were surrounded by a mob of men, women, and children. Many of the tribe, and more especially the women, appeared to take delight in heaping insults upon the prisoner, and some had even gone so far as to throw stones at him and strike him with sticks, when an old sheik appeared and drove them away. “Ali-ben-Ahmed tells me,” he said, “that this man sat alone in the mountains and slew el adrea. What the business of the stranger who sent us after him may be, I know not, and what he may do with this man when we turn him over to him, I care not; but the prisoner is a brave man, and while he is in our hands he shall be treated with the respect that be due one who hunts the lord with the large head alone and by night—and slays him.” Tarzan had heard of the respect in which Arabs held a lion-killer, and he was not sorry that chance had played into his hands thus favorably to relieve him of the petty tortures of the tribe. Shortly after this he was taken to a goat-skin tent upon the upper side of the douar. There he was fed, and then, securely bound, was left lying on a piece of native carpet, alone in the tent. He could see a guard sitting before the door of his frail prison, but when he attempted to force the stout bonds that held him he realized that any extra precaution on the part of his captors was quite unnecessary; not even his giant muscles could part those numerous strands. Just before dusk several men approached the tent where he lay, and entered it. All were in Arab dress, but presently one of the number advanced to Tarzan’s side, and as he let the folds of cloth that had hidden the lower half of his face fall away the ape-man saw the malevolent features of Nikolas Rokoff. There was a nasty smile on the bearded lips. “Ah, Monsieur Tarzan,” he said, “this is indeed a pleasure. But why do you not rise and greet your guest?” Then, with an ugly oath, “Get up, you dog!” and, drawing back his booted foot, he kicked Tarzan heavily in the side. “And here is another, and another, and another,” he continued, as he kicked Tarzan about the face and side. “One for each of the injuries you have done me.” The ape-man made no reply—he did not even deign to look upon the Russian again after the first glance of recognition. Finally the sheik, who had been standing a mute and frowning witness of the cowardly attack, intervened. “Stop!” he commanded. “Kill him if you will, but I will see no brave man subjected to such indignities in my presence. I have half a mind to turn him loose, that I may see how long you would kick him then.” This threat put a sudden end to Rokoff’s brutality, for he had no craving to see Tarzan loosed from his bonds while he was within reach of those powerful hands. “Very well,” he replied to the Arab; “I shall kill him presently.” “Not within the precincts of my douar,” returned the sheik. “When he leaves here he leaves alive. What you do with him in the desert is none of my concern, but I shall not have the blood of a Frenchman on the hands of my tribe on account of another man’s quarrel—they would send soldiers here and kill many of my people, and burn our tents and drive away our flocks.” “As you say,” growled Rokoff. “I’ll take him out into the desert below the douar, and dispatch him.” “You will take him a day’s ride from my country,” said the sheik, firmly, “and some of my children shall follow you to see that you do not disobey me—otherwise there may be two dead Frenchmen in the desert.” Rokoff shrugged. “Then I shall have to wait until the morrow—it is already dark.” “As you will,” said the sheik. “But by an hour after dawn you must be gone from my douar. I have little liking for unbelievers, and none at all for a coward.” Rokoff would have made some kind of retort, but he checked himself, for he realized that it would require but little excuse for the old man to turn upon him. Together they left the tent. At the door Rokoff could not resist the temptation to turn and fling a parting taunt at Tarzan. “Sleep well, monsieur,” he said, “and do not forget to pray well, for when you die tomorrow it will be in such agony that you will be unable to pray for blaspheming.” No one had bothered to bring Tarzan either food or water since noon, and consequently he suffered considerably from thirst. He wondered if it would be worth while to ask his guard for water, but after making two or three requests without receiving any response, he decided that it would not. Far up in the mountains he heard a lion roar. How much safer one was, he soliloquized, in the haunts of wild beasts than in the haunts of men. Never in all his jungle life had he been more relentlessly tracked down than in the past few months of his experience among civilized men. Never had he been any nearer death. Again the lion roared. It sounded a little nearer. Tarzan felt the old, wild impulse to reply with the challenge of his kind. His kind? He had almost forgotten that he was a man and not an ape. He tugged at his bonds. God, if he could but get them near those strong teeth of his. He felt a wild wave of madness sweep over him as his efforts to regain his liberty met with failure. Numa was roaring almost continually now. It was quite evident that he was coming down into the desert to hunt. It was the roar of a hungry lion. Tarzan envied him, for he was free. No one would tie him with ropes and slaughter him like a sheep. It was that which galled the ape-man. He did not fear to die, no—it was the humiliation of defeat before death, without even a chance to battle for his life. It must be near midnight, thought Tarzan. He had several hours to live. Possibly he would yet find a way to take Rokoff with him on the long journey. He could hear the savage lord of the desert quite close by now. Possibly he sought his meat from among the penned animals within the douar. For a long time silence reigned, then Tarzan’s trained ears caught the sound of a stealthily moving body. It came from the side of the tent nearest the mountains—the back. Nearer and nearer it came. He waited, listening intently, for it to pass. For a time there was silence without, such a terrible silence that Tarzan was surprised that he did not hear the breathing of the animal he felt sure must be crouching close to the back wall of his tent. There! It is moving again. Closer it creeps. Tarzan turns his head in the direction of the sound. It is very dark within the tent. Slowly the back rises from the ground, forced up by the head and shoulders of a body that looks all black in the semi-darkness. Beyond is a faint glimpse of the dimly starlit desert. A grim smile plays about Tarzan’s lips. At least Rokoff will be cheated. How mad he will be! And death will be more merciful than he could have hoped for at the hands of the Russian. Now the back of the tent drops into place, and all is darkness again—whatever it is is inside the tent with him. He hears it creeping close to him—now it is beside him. He closes his eyes and waits for the mighty paw. Upon his upturned face falls the gentle touch of a soft hand groping in the dark, and then a girl’s voice in a scarcely audible whisper pronounces his name. “Yes, it is I,” he whispers in reply. “But in the name of Heaven who are you?” “The Ouled-Nail of Sisi Aissa,” came the answer. While she spoke Tarzan could feel her working about his bonds. Occasionally the cold steel of a knife touched his flesh. A moment later he was free. “Come!” she whispered. On hands and knees he followed her out of the tent by the way she had come. She continued crawling thus flat to the ground until she reached a little patch of shrub. There she halted until he gained her side. For a moment he looked at her before he spoke. “I cannot understand,” he said at last. “Why are you here? How did you know that I was a prisoner in that tent? How does it happen that it is you who have saved me?” She smiled. “I have come a long way tonight,” she said, “and we have a long way to go before we shall be out of danger. Come; I shall tell you all about it as we go.” Together they rose and set off across the desert in the direction of the mountains. “I was not quite sure that I should ever reach you,” she said at last. “El adrea is abroad tonight, and after I left the horses I think he winded me and was following—I was terribly frightened.” “What a brave girl,” he said. “And you ran all that risk for a stranger—an alien—an unbeliever?” She drew herself up very proudly. “I am the daughter of the Sheik Kabour ben Saden,” she answered. “I should be no fit daughter of his if I would not risk my life to save that of the man who saved mine while he yet thought that I was but a common Ouled-Nail.” “Nevertheless,” he insisted, “you are a very brave girl. But how did you know that I was a prisoner back there?” “Achmet-din-Taieb, who is my cousin on my father’s side, was visiting some friends who belong to the tribe that captured you. He was at the douar when you were brought in. When he reached home he was telling us about the big Frenchman who had been captured by Ali-ben-Ahmed for another Frenchman who wished to kill him. From the description I knew that it must be you. My father was away. I tried to persuade some of the men to come and save you, but they would not do it, saying: ‘Let the unbelievers kill one another if they wish. It is none of our affair, and if we go and interfere with Ali-ben-Ahmed’s plans we shall only stir up a fight with our own people.’ “So when it was dark I came alone, riding one horse and leading another for you. They are tethered not far from here. By morning we shall be within my father’s douar. He should be there himself by now—then let them come and try to take Kadour ben Saden’s friend.” For a few moments they walked on in silence. “We should be near the horses,” she said. “It is strange that I do not see them here.” Then a moment later she stopped, with a little cry of consternation. “They are gone!” she exclaimed. “It is here that I tethered them.” Tarzan stooped to examine the ground. He found that a large shrub had been torn up by the roots. Then he found something else. There was a wry smile on his face as he rose and turned toward the girl. “El adrea has been here. From the signs, though, I rather think that his prey escaped him. With a little start they would be safe enough from him in the open.” There was nothing to do but continue on foot. The way led them across a low spur of the mountains, but the girl knew the trail as well as she did her mother’s face. They walked in easy, swinging strides, Tarzan keeping a hand’s breadth behind the girl’s shoulder, that she might set the pace, and thus be less fatigued. As they walked they talked, occasionally stopping to listen for sounds of pursuit. It was now a beautiful, moonlit night. The air was crisp and invigorating. Behind them lay the interminable vista of the desert, dotted here and there with an occasional oasis. The date palms of the little fertile spot they had just left, and the circle of goatskin tents, stood out in sharp relief against the yellow sand—a phantom paradise upon a phantom sea. Before them rose the grim and silent mountains. Tarzan’s blood leaped in his veins. This was life! He looked down upon the girl beside him—a daughter of the desert walking across the face of a dead world with a son of the jungle. He smiled at the thought. He wished that he had had a sister, and that she had been like this girl. What a bully chum she would have been! They had entered the mountains now, and were progressing more slowly, for the trail was steeper and very rocky. For a few minutes they had been silent. The girl was wondering if they would reach her father’s douar before the pursuit had overtaken them. Tarzan was wishing that they might walk on thus forever. If the girl were only a man they might. He longed for a friend who loved the same wild life that he loved. He had learned to crave companionship, but it was his misfortune that most of the men he knew preferred immaculate linen and their clubs to nakedness and the jungle. It was, of course, difficult to understand, yet it was very evident that they did. The two had just turned a projecting rock around which the trail ran when they were brought to a sudden stop. There, before them, directly in the middle of the path, stood Numa, el adrea, the black lion. His green eyes looked very wicked, and he bared his teeth, and lashed his bay-black sides with his angry tail. Then he roared—the fearsome, terror-inspiring roar of the hungry lion which is also angry. “Your knife,” said Tarzan to the girl, extending his hand. She slipped the hilt of the weapon into his waiting palm. As his fingers closed upon it he drew her back and pushed her behind him. “Walk back to the desert as rapidly as you can. If you hear me call you will know that all is well, and you may return.” “It is useless,” she replied, resignedly. “This is the end.” “Do as I tell you,” he commanded. “Quickly! He is about to charge.” The girl dropped back a few paces, where she stood watching for the terrible sight that she knew she should soon witness. The lion was advancing slowly toward Tarzan, his nose to the ground, like a challenging bull, his tail extended now and quivering as though with intense excitement. The ape-man stood, half crouching, the long Arab knife glistening in the moonlight. Behind him the tense figure of the girl, motionless as a carven statue. She leaned slightly forward, her lips parted, her eyes wide. Her only conscious thought was wonder at the bravery of the man who dared face with a puny knife the lord with the large head. A man of her own blood would have knelt in prayer and gone down beneath those awful fangs without resistance. In either case the result would be the same—it was inevitable; but she could not repress a thrill of admiration as her eyes rested upon the heroic figure before her. Not a tremor in the whole giant frame—his attitude as menacing and defiant as that of el adrea himself. The lion was quite close to him now—but a few paces intervened—he crouched, and then, with a deafening roar, he sprang. 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 Return of Tarzan. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/81/pg81-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 .

Through the Valley of the Shadow

Numa “El Adrea”

The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . The Fight in the Desert The Fight in the Desert As the three squatted upon the roof above the quarters of the Ouled-Nails they heard the angry cursing of the Arabs in the room beneath. Abdul translated from time to time to Tarzan. “They are berating those in the street below now,” said Abdul, “for permitting us to escape so easily. Those in the street say that we did not come that way—that we are still within the building, and that those above, being too cowardly to attack us, are attempting to deceive them into believing that we have escaped. In a moment they will have fighting of their own to attend to if they continue their brawling.” Presently those in the building gave up the search, and returned to the café. A few remained in the street below, smoking and talking. Tarzan spoke to the girl, thanking her for the sacrifice she had made for him, a total stranger. “I liked you,” she said simply. “You were unlike the others who come to the café. You did not speak coarsely to me—the manner in which you gave me money was not an insult.” “What shall you do after tonight?” he asked. “You cannot return to the café. Can you even remain with safety in Sidi Aissa?” “Tomorrow it will be forgotten,” she replied. “But I should be glad if it might be that I need never return to this or another café. I have not remained because I wished to; I have been a prisoner.” “A prisoner!” ejaculated Tarzan incredulously. “A slave would be the better word,” she answered. “I was stolen in the night from my father’s douar by a band of marauders. They brought me here and sold me to the Arab who keeps this café. It has been nearly two years now since I saw the last of mine own people. They are very far to the south. They never come to Sidi Aissa.” “You would like to return to your people?” asked Tarzan. “Then I shall promise to see you safely so far as Bou Saada at least. There we can doubtless arrange with the commandant to send you the rest of the way.” “Oh, m’sieur,” she cried, “how can I ever repay you! You cannot really mean that you will do so much for a poor Ouled-Nail. But my father can reward you, and he will, for is he not a great sheik? He is Kadour ben Saden.” “Kadour ben Saden!” ejaculated Tarzan. “Why, Kadour ben Saden is in Sidi Aissa this very night. He dined with me but a few hours since.” “My father in Sidi Aissa?” cried the amazed girl. “Allah be praised then, for I am indeed saved.” “Hssh!” cautioned Abdul. “Listen.” From below came the sound of voices, quite distinguishable upon the still night air. Tarzan could not understand the words, but Abdul and the girl translated. “They have gone now,” said the latter. “It is you they want, m’sieur. One of them said that the stranger who had offered money for your slaying lay in the house of Akmed din Soulef with a broken wrist, but that he had offered a still greater reward if some would lay in wait for you upon the road to Bou Saada and kill you.” “It is he who followed m’sieur about the market today,” exclaimed Abdul. “I saw him again within the café—him and another; and the two went out into the inner court after talking with this girl here. It was they who attacked and fired upon us, as we came out of the café. Why do they wish to kill you, m’sieur?” “I do not know,” replied Tarzan, and then, after a pause: “Unless—” But he did not finish, for the thought that had come to his mind, while it seemed the only reasonable solution of the mystery, appeared at the same time quite improbable. Presently the men in the street went away. The courtyard and the café were deserted. Cautiously Tarzan lowered himself to the sill of the girl’s window. The room was empty. He returned to the roof and let Abdul down, then he lowered the girl to the arms of the waiting Arab. From the window Abdul dropped the short distance to the street below, while Tarzan took the girl in his arms and leaped down as he had done on so many other occasions in his own forest with a burden in his arms. A little cry of alarm was startled from the girl’s lips, but Tarzan landed in the street with but an imperceptible jar, and lowered her in safety to her feet. She clung to him for a moment. “How strong m’sieur is, and how active,” she cried. “El Adrea, the black lion, himself is not more so.” “I should like to meet this el Adrea of yours,” he said. “I have heard much about him.” “And you come to the douar of my father you shall see him,” said the girl. “He lives in a spur of the mountains north of us, and comes down from his lair at night to rob my father’s douar. With a single blow of his mighty paw he crushes the skull of a bull, and woe betide the belated wayfarer who meets el Adrea abroad at night.” Without further mishap they reached the hotel. The sleepy landlord objected strenuously to instituting a search for Kadour ben Saden until the following morning, but a piece of gold put a different aspect on the matter, so that a few moments later a servant had started to make the rounds of the lesser native hostelries where it might be expected that a desert sheik would find congenial associations. Tarzan had felt it necessary to find the girl’s father that night, for fear he might start on his homeward journey too early in the morning to be intercepted. They had waited perhaps half an hour when the messenger returned with Kadour ben Saden. The old sheik entered the room with a questioning expression upon his proud face. “Monsieur has done me the honor to—” he commenced, and then his eyes fell upon the girl. With outstretched arms he crossed the room to meet her. “My daughter!” he cried. “Allah is merciful!” and tears dimmed the martial eyes of the old warrior. When the story of her abduction and her final rescue had been told to Kadour ben Saden he extended his hand to Tarzan. “All that is Kadour ben Saden’s is thine, my friend, even to his life,” he said very simply, but Tarzan knew that those were no idle words. It was decided that although three of them would have to ride after practically no sleep, it would be best to make an early start in the morning, and attempt to ride all the way to Bou Saada in one day. It would have been comparatively easy for the men, but for the girl it was sure to be a fatiguing journey. She, however, was the most anxious to undertake it, for it seemed to her that she could not quickly enough reach the family and friends from whom she had been separated for two years. It seemed to Tarzan that he had not closed his eyes before he was awakened, and in another hour the party was on its way south toward Bou Saada. For a few miles the road was good, and they made rapid progress, but suddenly it became only a waste of sand, into which the horses sank fetlock deep at nearly every step. In addition to Tarzan, Abdul, the sheik, and his daughter were four of the wild plainsmen of the sheik’s tribe who had accompanied him upon the trip to Sidi Aissa. Thus, seven guns strong, they entertained little fear of attack by day, and if all went well they should reach Bou Saada before nightfall. A brisk wind enveloped them in the blowing sand of the desert, until Tarzan’s lips were parched and cracked. What little he could see of the surrounding country was far from alluring—a vast expanse of rough country, rolling in little, barren hillocks, and tufted here and there with clumps of dreary shrub. Far to the south rose the dim lines of the Saharan Atlas range. How different, thought Tarzan, from the gorgeous Africa of his boyhood! Abdul, always on the alert, looked backward quite as often as he did ahead. At the top of each hillock that they mounted he would draw in his horse and, turning, scan the country to the rear with utmost care. At last his scrutiny was rewarded. “Look!” he cried. “There are six horsemen behind us.” “Your friends of last evening, no doubt, monsieur,” remarked Kadour ben Saden dryly to Tarzan. “No doubt,” replied the ape-man. “I am sorry that my society should endanger the safety of your journey. At the next village I shall remain and question these gentlemen, while you ride on. There is no necessity for my being at Bou Saada tonight, and less still why you should not ride in peace.” “If you stop we shall stop,” said Kadour ben Saden. “Until you are safe with your friends, or the enemy has left your trail, we shall remain with you. There is nothing more to say.” Tarzan nodded his head. He was a man of few words, and possibly it was for this reason as much as any that Kadour ben Saden had taken to him, for if there be one thing that an Arab despises it is a talkative man. All the balance of the day Abdul caught glimpses of the horsemen in their rear. They remained always at about the same distance. During the occasional halts for rest, and at the longer halt at noon, they approached no closer. “They are waiting for darkness,” said Kadour ben Saden. And darkness came before they reached Bou Saada. The last glimpse that Abdul had of the grim, white-robed figures that trailed them, just before dusk made it impossible to distinguish them, had made it apparent that they were rapidly closing up the distance that intervened between them and their intended quarry. He whispered this fact to Tarzan, for he did not wish to alarm the girl. The ape-man drew back beside him. “You will ride ahead with the others, Abdul,” said Tarzan. “This is my quarrel. I shall wait at the next convenient spot, and interview these fellows.” “Then Abdul shall wait at thy side,” replied the young Arab, nor would any threats or commands move him from his decision. “Very well, then,” replied Tarzan. “Here is as good a place as we could wish. Here are rocks at the top of this hillock. We shall remain hidden here and give an account of ourselves to these gentlemen when they appear.” They drew in their horses and dismounted. The others riding ahead were already out of sight in the darkness. Beyond them shone the lights of Bou Saada. Tarzan removed his rifle from its boot and loosened his revolver in its holster. He ordered Abdul to withdraw behind the rocks with the horses, so that they should be shielded from the enemies’ bullets should they fire. The young Arab pretended to do as he was bid, but when he had fastened the two animals securely to a low shrub he crept back to lie on his belly a few paces behind Tarzan. The ape-man stood erect in the middle of the road, waiting. Nor did he have long to wait. The sound of galloping horses came suddenly out of the darkness below him, and a moment later he discerned the moving blotches of lighter color against the solid background of the night. “Halt,” he cried, “or we fire!” The white figures came to a sudden stop, and for a moment there was silence. Then came the sound of a whispered council, and like ghosts the phantom riders dispersed in all directions. Again the desert lay still about him, yet it was an ominous stillness that foreboded evil. Abdul raised himself to one knee. Tarzan cocked his jungle-trained ears, and presently there came to him the sound of horses walking quietly through the sand to the east of him, to the west, to the north, and to the south. They had been surrounded. Then a shot came from the direction in which he was looking, a bullet whirred through the air above his head, and he fired at the flash of the enemy’s gun. Instantly the soundless waste was torn with the quick staccato of guns upon every hand. Abdul and Tarzan fired only at the flashes—they could not yet see their foemen. Presently it became evident that the attackers were circling their position, drawing closer and closer in as they began to realize the paltry numbers of the party which opposed them. But one came too close, for Tarzan was accustomed to using his eyes in the darkness of the jungle night, than which there is no more utter darkness this side the grave, and with a cry of pain a saddle was emptied. “The odds are evening, Abdul,” said Tarzan, with a low laugh. But they were still far too one-sided, and when the five remaining horsemen whirled at a signal and charged full upon them it looked as if there would be a sudden ending of the battle. Both Tarzan and Abdul sprang to the shelter of the rocks, that they might keep the enemy in front of them. There was a mad clatter of galloping hoofs, a volley of shots from both sides, and the Arabs withdrew to repeat the maneuver; but there were now only four against the two. For a few moments there came no sound from out of the surrounding blackness. Tarzan could not tell whether the Arabs, satisfied with their losses, had given up the fight, or were waiting farther along the road to waylay them as they proceeded on toward Bou Saada. But he was not left long in doubt, for now all from one direction came the sound of a new charge. But scarcely had the first gun spoken ere a dozen shots rang out behind the Arabs. There came the wild shouts of a new party to the controversy, and the pounding of the feet of many horses from down the road to Bou Saada. The Arabs did not wait to learn the identity of the oncomers. With a parting volley as they dashed by the position which Tarzan and Abdul were holding, they plunged off along the road toward Sidi Aissa. A moment later Kadour ben Saden and his men dashed up. The old sheik was much relieved to find that neither Tarzan nor Abdul had received a scratch. Not even had their horses been wounded. They sought out the two men who had fallen before Tarzan’s shots, and, finding that both were dead, left them where they lay. “Why did you not tell me that you contemplated ambushing those fellows?” asked the sheik in a hurt tone. “We might have had them all if the seven of us had stopped to meet them.” “Then it would have been useless to stop at all,” replied Tarzan, “for had we simply ridden on toward Bou Saada they would have been upon us presently, and all could have been engaged. It was to prevent the transfer of my own quarrel to another’s shoulders that Abdul and I stopped off to question them. Then there is your daughter—I could not be the cause of exposing her needlessly to the marksmanship of six men.” Kadour ben Saden shrugged his shoulders. He did not relish having been cheated out of a fight. The little battle so close to Bou Saada had drawn out a company of soldiers. Tarzan and his party met them just outside the town. The officer in charge halted them to learn the significance of the shots. “A handful of marauders,” replied Kadour ben Saden. “They attacked two of our number who had dropped behind, but when we returned to them the fellows soon dispersed. They left two dead. None of my party was injured.” This seemed to satisfy the officer, and after taking the names of the party he marched his men on toward the scene of the skirmish to bring back the dead men for purposes of identification, if possible. Two days later, Kadour ben Saden, with his daughter and followers, rode south through the pass below Bou Saada, bound for their home in the far wilderness. The sheik had urged Tarzan to accompany him, and the girl had added her entreaties to those of her father; but, though he could not explain it to them, Tarzan’s duties loomed particularly large after the happenings of the past few days, so that he could not think of leaving his post for an instant. But he promised to come later if it lay within his power to do so, and they had to content themselves with that assurance. During these two days Tarzan had spent practically all his time with Kadour ben Saden and his daughter. He was keenly interested in this race of stern and dignified warriors, and embraced the opportunity which their friendship offered to learn what he could of their lives and customs. He even commenced to acquire the rudiments of their language under the pleasant tutorage of the brown-eyed girl. It was with real regret that he saw them depart, and he sat his horse at the opening to the pass, as far as which he had accompanied them, gazing after the little party as long as he could catch a glimpse of them. Here were people after his own heart! Their wild, rough lives, filled with danger and hardship, appealed to this half-savage man as nothing had appealed to him in the midst of the effeminate civilization of the great cities he had visited. Here was a life that excelled even that of the jungle, for here he might have the society of men—real men whom he could honor and respect, and yet be near to the wild nature that he loved. In his head revolved an idea that when he had completed his mission he would resign and return to live for the remainder of his life with the tribe of Kadour ben Saden. Then he turned his horse’s head and rode slowly back to Bou Saada. The front of the Hotel du Petit Sahara, where Tarzan stopped in Bou Saada, is taken up with the bar, two dining-rooms, and the kitchens. Both of the dining-rooms open directly off the bar, and one of them is reserved for the use of the officers of the garrison. As you stand in the barroom you may look into either of the dining-rooms if you wish. It was to the bar that Tarzan repaired after speeding Kadour ben Saden and his party on their way. It was yet early in the morning, for Kadour ben Saden had elected to ride far that day, so that it happened that when Tarzan returned there were guests still at breakfast. As his casual glance wandered into the officers’ dining-room, Tarzan saw something which brought a look of interest to his eyes. Lieutenant Gernois was sitting there, and as Tarzan looked a white-robed Arab approached and, bending, whispered a few words into the lieutenant’s ear. Then he passed on out of the building through another door. In itself the thing was nothing, but as the man had stooped to speak to the officer, Tarzan had caught sight of something which the accidental parting of the man’s burnoose had revealed—he carried his left arm in a sling. 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 Return of Tarzan. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/81/pg81-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 .

The Fight in the Desert

The Dancing Girl of Sidi Aissa

Web3 companies are driving the use of crypto in B2B payments, not only because counterparts in the web3 economy prefer to pay in their own native tokens. Crypto payments, particularly in stablecoins have proven to be both a faster, and cheaper way to manage B2B payments, especially across countries. The as of Q4 2020, with bank transfers averaging a whopping 11%. Yet in October 2018, a on legacy systems like PayPal, was made with just $0.06 on Ethereum. World Bank estimates the average transaction fee for cross-border payments to be around 6.51% $183 million transaction that would have cost senders over $5 million in commissions An average international payment takes 2-3 days to clear. In contrast, Bitcoin takes an average of 10 minutes to process a new transaction, while Ethereum requires an average of 14 seconds as of today. Newer promise to slash transaction costs and settlement times even further. blockchain payment rails like Arbitrum Apart from crypto being a cheaper, faster means of making cross-border payments, businesses also hold crypto assets on their balance sheet for treasury management purposes. Not only does this apply to volatile cryptocurrencies like BTC or ETH, but also stablecoins which can generate significantly higher yields by being lent out on DeFi platforms, instead of being held in traditional bank accounts. Whether you are managing a play-to-earn crypto gaming guild, launching an NFT project, or overseeing the financial operations of a DAO, crypto payments are likely a core part of your financial operations. But for many finance managers or CFOs at web3 companies, that’s where the problems begin. The Pains of Processing Crypto Payments Invoices are essential in B2B payments, to append metadata to financial transactions. Whether for tax and audit purposes, or simply for companies to analyze patterns in their finances, invoices are key. Web3 companies must rely on invoices to pay for many of their major costs in crypto. This ranges from contracting marketing agencies, to like developers, content creators, and community managers. paying the salaries of a global team of remote workers But keeping records of PDF invoices, and paying invoices in crypto is slow and laborious. A significant amount of time is spent on manual data entry and reconciliation. Crypto finance professionals know the pain of copy-pasting individual wallet addresses, and then sending transaction IDs as proof of payment to each counterparty. “ ”, . “ ”, he added. Paying users with direct wallet transfers made it difficult to track who received how much and for what services explains Robin Lehmann, co-founder & CEO of DataUnion Also the laborious and painstaking process of managing payments meant it was always difficult to remunerate the team in a timely manner The difficulty of bookkeeping with crypto is real. Accountants and CFOs working with crypto-native companies know the hassle of reconciling crypto payments from invoices. Invoices in crypto tend to be sent via PDF files, in different layouts and formats which have to be meticulously stored and organized. That makes it difficult, and time-consuming for non-crypto native accountants to reconcile - . Rudy Kadoch, founder of the crypto social trading platform, Nested Finance To address these challenges, a growing number of  web3 companies like DeFi platforms, DAOs, play-to-earn blockchain games, and NFT projects have turned to Request Finance to automate their B2B payments in crypto. Automating Crypto Payments and Invoicing with Request Finance Since launching in 2021, over 1,400 web3 companies now use Request Finance to automate their crypto payments, and invoicing workstreams. Here’s how: 1. Pre-filled invoice templates Request Finance automatically populates crypto invoices with counterparties’ information, and wallet addresses when receiving or sending an invoice requesting payment in crypto. This eliminates the hassle of having to ask for payment information, or pull data from invoices in different formats when bookkeeping. ‍ Pre-filled invoices also minimize human error and fraud. Wallet addresses are often a string of hexadecimals, making crypto payments particularly prone to costly typos, and more commonly, fraud. When making crypto payments, users must copy a string of 26 to 35 characters which serves as the recipient’s wallet address. Most wallets make sure that this alphanumeric string matches the public key of a cryptocurrency wallet that actually exists. Sending payments to non-existent addresses due to a typo is rare. Far more common, however, is sending crypto payments to the wrong wallet address. A user might, for instance, pay to an address belonging to . a fraudulent actor spoofing a known counterparty rather than the correct wallet address on an outstanding invoice Unlike bank accounts or mobile fiat wallets which show recipient names prior to making payment, it is frightfully easy to mix up the numerous crypto wallet addresses, which can be wrongly labeled on an Excel spreadsheet. “ ”, explains Robin Lehmann, co-founder & CEO of DataUnion. A combination of Metamask and a spreadsheet is certainly not the most efficient way to keep financial records In May 2021, as part of a bungled promotional campaign. In October that same year, , after an upgrade introduced a bug. BlockFi accidentally sent some $20 million in Bitcoin about $90.1 million mistakenly went out to users of popular DeFi staking protocol, Compound With Request Finance, users connect their wallets to their accounts. This ensures that the payments you make to the counterparty you select in the app will always receive the funds in a wallet address they own. “ ” . Winning teams can use Request to send pre-filled invoices with the correct payment information linked to their email accounts. This helps us prevent administrative errors, and save time from not having to retrieve and key in the right payment details explained Frederic Meyer-Scharenberg, organizer of the Swiss Blockchain Hackathon 2021 2. Schedule recurring invoices Recurring payments are common to a number of contractual relationships for businesses. This includes items such as salary payments to team members, or subscription fees to be collected from software users. With just a simple checkbox, users can schedule the automated sending of recurring invoices in Request Finance. This frees up time your finance team spends on collections. For instance, when you onboard a subscriber for your SaaS platform, you can schedule a recurring invoice for the subscription fee to be sent to the subscriber every month, on the anniversary of the subscription contract. , which will open up new pay-as-you-go, or “PAYG” revenue models for your business. Request Finance is also in the process of integrating streaming payments with Superfluid 3. Pay multiple crypto invoices at once Say goodbye to paying individual invoices one-by-one. With Request Finance, you can . This saves a tremendous amount of time, as well as transaction fees. pay multiple invoices, and up to hundreds of different wallet addresses within just a few clicks 4. Real-time payment status updates Ensuring that you pay your bills on time, while also keeping tabs on the outstanding payments due to you is critical to your business’ reputation, and cashflow. With Request Finance, businesses can view all their invoice statuses in real time - all from a single dashboard. The ability to review outstanding invoices not only lets you keep tabs on your accounts. It also automatically provides your counterparties with real-time payment confirmations with on-chain data. No longer do you need to send, or request transaction IDs as proof of payment, or check blockchain explorers. You’ll know exactly when the funds hit your wallet. To learn more about how you can optimize your financial operations in crypto, . see how a growing list of web3 CFOs and finance professionals at companies like The Sandbox, AAVE, and MakerDAO have used Request Finance Interested? with your finance team today. Book a demo ‍ Written by: Ivan, Content Lead at Request Finance Send, receive, and manage your crypto invoices, payroll, and expenses in an easy, secured, and compliant way. New to Request? Join 1,400+ Businesses Using Request 👉 Sign up for free 📅 View demo

How to Automate Crypto Payments and Invoicing for Web3, DeFi, and NFT Projects

Modern web development has shifted to component-based architecture, resulting in faster development, more control, and lower maintenance costs. In this article, I handpicked some of my favorite UI components for your design inspiration. I tried to include different types of some of the most used components in our development workflow including cards, text, buttons, checkboxes, icons, loaders, and menus. For each component, I will provide a direct link, an interactive preview so you can get an initial impression on the fly as well as the author links, so you can explore more of their work, too. 1. Card Slider By Aybüke Ceylan https://codepen.io/aybukeceylan/pen/yLaqqOL 2. Sign up / Log in By: FlorinPop https://cod`epen.io/FlorinPop17/pen/vPKWjd 3. Checkbox Group By: Håvard Brynjulfsen https://codepen.io/havardob/pen/BapJYMg 4. Animated Tab Bar By: abxlfazl khxrshidi https://codepen.io/abxlfazl/pen/OJbEbxL 5. Apple TV - Word Rotation By: Steven Lei https://codepen.io/stevenlei/pen/RwpRgzy 6. Spotlight Cursor Text By: Caroline Artz https://codepen.io/carolineartz/pen/rNaGQYo 7. Glass Card By: Tom Miller https://codepen.io/creativeocean/pen/oNzjEYj 8. 3D Orange Switch By: Yoav Kadosh https://codepen.io/ykadosh/pen/jOwjmJe 9. Jello Tab Bar By: Flávio Amaral https://codepen.io/flavio_amaral/pen/xxgYGrR 10. Simple CSS Loaders By: Jenning https://codepen.io/jenning/pen/YzNmzaV 11. Feedback Reactions Aaron Iker https://codepen.io/aaroniker/pen/qBjyKGO 12. CSS Glowing Icons By: Krishna Gupta https://codepen.io/Krishnaa_Gupta/pen/MWoRqmr Writing has always been my passion and it gives me pleasure to help and inspire people. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out! If you found these useful, connect me on , , and ! Twitter LinkedIn GitHub Visit my for more articles like this. Blog First Published here

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Major Japanese publisher Takeshobo has sued Cloudflare in a Tokyo court for alleged copyright infringement. The publisher says it was forced into the action after requests to remove content being offered by a Cloudflare customer were ignored. Takeshobo is taking care not to mention the name of the 'pirate' site in question but TorrentFreak has uncovered a DMCA subpoena from 2019 which may shine some light on proceedings. Founded in 1972, Takeshobo is major publisher based in Japan. The company distributes dozens of manga publications on monthly schedules, many under the Bamboo Comics label. On Tuesday the company revealed that it had taken legal action to protect its titles being made available online by pirate sites. However, in common with an increasing number of companies in multiple spaces, its lawyers are going after Cloudflare. Takeshobo revealed that on December 20, 2019, it filed a civil action against the CDN company at the Tokyo District Court. “The nature of the complaint is that Cloudflare, Inc. provides a server to an illegal site where many copyrighted works, including those published by us, are illegally uploaded and made available for free,” a statement from Takeshobo reads. “We asked directly to remove the uploaded copyrighted material from the company’s server, but because no action was taken, we requested the court to remove the copyright infringing page and pay damages.” Since no court documents have yet been made available to the public and the publisher refers only to “an illegal site”, there’s no absolute confirmation of which ‘pirate’ site Takeshobo is referencing. The company does state, however, that “an order based on copyright infringement has been issued at a District Court in the United States.” Another possible pointer can be found in Takeshobo’s statement, which further indicates that the legal case against Cloudflare in Japan was filed in collaboration with Mr. Hanamura, one of the authors of the ‘Dorukara’ comic distributed by the company. With this information in hand, TorrentFreak was able to trace court documents filed in the United States during July 2019, which reveal Takeshobo asking Cloudflare to take action against various ‘pirate’ sites using its services, including those making the ‘Dorukara’ publication available to the public. “Takeshobo Inc. is seeking a subpoena pursuant to 17 U.S.C. § 512(h) to obtain information sufficient to identify the persons infringing its copyrighted works,” an application for a DMCA subpoena filed at a district court in California reads. “The purpose for which this subpoena is sought is to obtain the identity of the alleged infringers. Such information will only be used for the purpose of protecting rights under the Copyright Act (17 U.S.C. § 101, et seq.).” Domains belonging to several ‘pirate’ sites are listed in the subpoena against Cloudflare – Hoshinoromi.org, Worldjobproject.org, Hanascan.com, Mangahato.com, and Manatiki.com. Readers will recall that Hoshinoromi.org was presented by some as a ‘successor’ to the Mangamura platform, which at the time was considered one of the largest infringers of manga publishers’copyrights. previously shuttered However, after being at a federal court in New York by publishers Shueisha, Kadowaka, Kodansha, and Shogakukan, Hoshinoromi.org and the related Worldjobproject.org shut down. sued last September That leaves Hanascan.com, Mangahato.com, and Manatiki.com, all of which are operating today. Manatiki is clearly the smallest player, pulling in around 327,000 visits per month according to SimilarWeb stats. Hanascan is considerably larger with around 3.2 million visits per month but Mangahato is in a clear lead with around 3.5 million. An image presented as part of the DMCA subpoena application last year shows all three domains allegedly carrying ‘Dolkara’ content, which according to is an alternative title for ‘Dorukara’. MyAnimeList Another curiosity can be found in the URLs highlighted above. Domain names aside, the URLs listed for all three sites are identical in construction and present content in more or less the same format. We can also confirm that all of the content remains in place, via Cloudflare’s services, despite demands in Takeshobo’s DMCA subpoena to “remove or disable” the allegedly infringing works from the listed domains. Whether Takeshobo is targeting one, all, or indeed none of these domains remains a question but it is crystal clear that Cloudflare did not remove or disable access to any of the above content as the earlier DMCA subpoena demanded. Whether that dispute is also part of the lawsuit now underway in Tokyo against Cloudflare is still unconfirmed but the pieces seem to point in that direction. The documents supporting the application for a DMCA subpoena, which was signed off by the court last year, are available here and here (pdf) Originally published as “ Manga Publisher Takeshobo Sues Cloudflare For Copyright Infringement ” with the Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC 3.0) license

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