The Son of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter XIX The Son of Tarzan: XIX Behind them Korak emerged from the jungle and recovered his spear from Numa’s side. He still was smiling. He had enjoyed the spectacle exceedingly. There was one thing that troubled him—the agility with which the she had clambered from her pony’s back into the safety of the tree above her. That was more like mangani—more like his lost Meriem. He sighed. His lost Meriem! His little, dead Meriem! He wondered if this she stranger resembled his Meriem in other ways. A great longing to see her overwhelmed him. He looked after the three figures moving steadily across the plain. He wondered where might lie their destination. A desire to follow them came over him, but he only stood there watching until they had disappeared in the distance. The sight of the civilized girl and the dapper, khaki clad Englishman had aroused in Korak memories long dormant. Once he had dreamed of returning to the world of such as these; but with the death of Meriem hope and ambition seemed to have deserted him. He cared now only to pass the remainder of his life in solitude, as far from man as possible. With a sigh he turned slowly back into the jungle. Tantor, nervous by nature, had been far from reassured by close proximity to the three strange whites, and with the report of Hanson’s rifle had turned and ambled away at his long, swinging shuffle. He was nowhere in sight when Korak returned to look for him. The ape-man, however, was little concerned by the absence of his friend. Tantor had a habit of wandering off unexpectedly. For a month they might not see one another, for Korak seldom took the trouble to follow the great pachyderm, nor did he upon this occasion. Instead he found a comfortable perch in a large tree and was soon asleep. At the bungalow Bwana had met the returning adventurers on the verandah. In a moment of wakefulness he had heard the report of Hanson’s rifle far out across the plain, and wondered what it might mean. Presently it had occurred to him that the man whom he considered in the light of a guest might have met with an accident on his way back to camp, so he had arisen and gone to his foreman’s quarters where he had learned that Hanson had been there earlier in the evening but had departed several hours before. Returning from the foreman’s quarters Bwana had noticed that the corral gate was open and further investigation revealed the fact that Meriem’s pony was gone and also the one most often used by Baynes. Instantly Bwana assumed that the shot had been fired by Hon. Morison, and had again aroused his foreman and was making preparations to set forth in investigation when he had seen the party approaching across the plain. Explanation on the part of the Englishman met a rather chilly reception from his host. Meriem was silent. She saw that Bwana was angry with her. It was the first time and she was heart broken. “Go to your room, Meriem,” he said; “and Baynes, if you will step into my study, I’d like to have a word with you in a moment.” He stepped toward Hanson as the others turned to obey him. There was something about Bwana even in his gentlest moods that commanded instant obedience. “How did you happen to be with them, Hanson?” he asked. “I’d been sitting in the garden,” replied the trader, “after leaving Jervis’ quarters. I have a habit of doing that as your lady probably knows. Tonight I fell asleep behind a bush, and was awakened by them two spooning. I couldn’t hear what they said, but presently Baynes brings two ponies and they ride off. I didn’t like to interfere for it wasn’t any of my business, but I knew they hadn’t ought to be ridin’ about that time of night, leastways not the girl—it wasn’t right and it wasn’t safe. So I follows them and it’s just as well I did. Baynes was gettin’ away from the lion as fast as he could, leavin’ the girl to take care of herself, when I got a lucky shot into the beast’s shoulder that fixed him.” Hanson paused. Both men were silent for a time. Presently the trader coughed in an embarrassed manner as though there was something on his mind he felt in duty bound to say, but hated to. “What is it, Hanson?” asked Bwana. “You were about to say something weren’t you?” “Well, you see it’s like this,” ventured Hanson. “Bein’ around here evenings a good deal I’ve seen them two together a lot, and, beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I don’t think Mr. Baynes means the girl any good. I’ve overheard enough to make me think he’s tryin’ to get her to run off with him.” Hanson, to fit his own ends, hit nearer the truth than he knew. He was afraid that Baynes would interfere with his own plans, and he had hit upon a scheme to both utilize the young Englishman and get rid of him at the same time. “And I thought,” continued the trader, “that inasmuch as I’m about due to move you might like to suggest to Mr. Baynes that he go with me. I’d be willin’ to take him north to the caravan trails as a favor to you, sir.” Bwana stood in deep thought for a moment. Presently he looked up. “Of course, Hanson, Mr. Baynes is my guest,” he said, a grim twinkle in his eye. “Really I cannot accuse him of planning to run away with Meriem on the evidence that we have, and as he is my guest I should hate to be so discourteous as to ask him to leave; but, if I recall his words correctly, it seems to me that he has spoken of returning home, and I am sure that nothing would delight him more than going north with you—you say you start tomorrow? I think Mr. Baynes will accompany you. Drop over in the morning, if you please, and now good night, and thank you for keeping a watchful eye on Meriem.” Hanson hid a grin as he turned and sought his saddle. Bwana stepped from the verandah to his study, where he found the Hon. Morison pacing back and forth, evidently very ill at ease. “Baynes,” said Bwana, coming directly to the point, “Hanson is leaving for the north tomorrow. He has taken a great fancy to you, and just asked me to say to you that he’d be glad to have you accompany him. Good night, Baynes.” At Bwana’s suggestion Meriem kept to her room the following morning until after the Hon. Morison Baynes had departed. Hanson had come for him early—in fact he had remained all night with the foreman, Jervis, that they might get an early start. The farewell exchanges between the Hon. Morison and his host were of the most formal type, and when at last the guest rode away Bwana breathed a sigh of relief. It had been an unpleasant duty and he was glad that it was over; but he did not regret his action. He had not been blind to Baynes’ infatuation for Meriem, and knowing the young man’s pride in caste he had never for a moment believed that his guest would offer his name to this nameless Arab girl, for, extremely light in color though she was for a full blood Arab, Bwana believed her to be such. He did not mention the subject again to Meriem, and in this he made a mistake, for the young girl, while realizing the debt of gratitude she owed Bwana and My Dear, was both proud and sensitive, so that Bwana’s action in sending Baynes away and giving her no opportunity to explain or defend hurt and mortified her. Also it did much toward making a martyr of Baynes in her eyes and arousing in her breast a keen feeling of loyalty toward him. What she had half-mistaken for love before, she now wholly mistook for love. Bwana and My Dear might have told her much of the social barriers that they only too well knew Baynes must feel existed between Meriem and himself, but they hesitated to wound her. It would have been better had they inflicted this lesser sorrow, and saved the child the misery that was to follow because of her ignorance. As Hanson and Baynes rode toward the former’s camp the Englishman maintained a morose silence. The other was attempting to formulate an opening that would lead naturally to the proposition he had in mind. He rode a neck behind his companion, grinning as he noted the sullen scowl upon the other’s patrician face. “Rather rough on you, wasn’t he?” he ventured at last, jerking his head back in the direction of the bungalow as Baynes turned his eyes upon him at the remark. “He thinks a lot of the girl,” continued Hanson, “and don’t want nobody to marry her and take her away; but it looks to me as though he was doin’ her more harm than good in sendin’ you away. She ought to marry some time, and she couldn’t do better than a fine young gentleman like you.” Baynes, who had at first felt inclined to take offense at the mention of his private affairs by this common fellow, was mollified by Hanson’s final remark, and immediately commenced to see in him a man of fine discrimination. “He’s a darned bounder,” grumbled the Hon. Morison; “but I’ll get even with him. He may be the whole thing in Central Africa but I’m as big as he is in London, and he’ll find it out when he comes home.” “If I was you,” said Hanson, “I wouldn’t let any man keep me from gettin’ the girl I want. Between you and me I ain’t got no use for him either, and if I can help you any way just call on me.” “It’s mighty good of you, Hanson,” replied Baynes, warming up a bit; “but what can a fellow do here in this God-forsaken hole?” “I know what I’d do,” said Hanson. “I’d take the girl along with me. If she loves you she’ll go, all right.” “It can’t be done,” said Baynes. “He bosses this whole blooming country for miles around. He’d be sure to catch us.” “No, he wouldn’t, not with me running things,” said Hanson. “I’ve been trading and hunting here for ten years and I know as much about the country as he does. If you want to take the girl along I’ll help you, and I’ll guarantee that there won’t nobody catch up with us before we reach the coast. I’ll tell you what, you write her a note and I’ll get it to her by my head man. Ask her to meet you to say goodbye—she won’t refuse that. In the meantime we can be movin’ camp a little further north all the time and you can make arrangements with her to be all ready on a certain night. Tell her I’ll meet her then while you wait for us in camp. That’ll be better for I know the country well and can cover it quicker than you. You can take care of the safari and be movin’ along slow toward the north and the girl and I’ll catch up to you.” “But suppose she won’t come?” suggested Baynes. “Then make another date for a last good-bye,” said Hanson, “and instead of you I’ll be there and I’ll bring her along anyway. She’ll have to come, and after it’s all over she won’t feel so bad about it—especially after livin’ with you for two months while we’re makin’ the coast.” A shocked and angry protest rose to Baynes’ lips; but he did not utter it, for almost simultaneously came the realization that this was practically the same thing he had been planning upon himself. It had sounded brutal and criminal from the lips of the rough trader; but nevertheless the young Englishman saw that with Hanson’s help and his knowledge of African travel the possibilities of success would be much greater than as though the Hon. Morison were to attempt the thing single handed. And so he nodded a glum assent. The balance of the long ride to Hanson’s northerly camp was made in silence, for both men were occupied with their own thoughts, most of which were far from being either complimentary or loyal to the other. As they rode through the wood the sounds of their careless passage came to the ears of another jungle wayfarer. The Killer had determined to come back to the place where he had seen the white girl who took to the trees with the ability of long habitude. There was a compelling something in the recollection of her that drew him irresistibly toward her. He wished to see her by the light of day, to see her features, to see the color of her eyes and hair. It seemed to him that she must bear a strong resemblance to his lost Meriem, and yet he knew that the chances were that she did not. The fleeting glimpse that he had had of her in the moonlight as she swung from the back of her plunging pony into the branches of the tree above her had shown him a girl of about the same height as his Meriem; but of a more rounded and developed femininity. Now he was moving lazily back in the direction of the spot where he had seen the girl when the sounds of the approaching horsemen came to his sharp ears. He moved stealthily through the branches until he came within sight of the riders. The younger man he instantly recognized as the same he had seen with his arms about the girl in the moonlit glade just the instant before Numa charged. The other he did not recognize though there was a familiarity about his carriage and figure that puzzled Korak. The ape-man decided that to find the girl again he would but have to keep in touch with the young Englishman, and so he fell in behind the pair, following them to Hanson’s camp. Here the Hon. Morison penned a brief note, which Hanson gave into the keeping of one of his boys who started off forthwith toward the south. Korak remained in the vicinity of the camp, keeping a careful watch upon the Englishman. He had half expected to find the girl at the destination of the two riders and had been disappointed when no sign of her materialized about the camp. Baynes was restless, pacing back and forth beneath the trees when he should have been resting against the forced marches of the coming flight. Hanson lay in his hammock and smoked. They spoke but little. Korak lay stretched upon a branch among the dense foliage above them. Thus passed the balance of the afternoon. Korak became hungry and thirsty. He doubted that either of the men would leave camp now before morning, so he withdrew, but toward the south, for there it seemed most likely the girl still was. In the garden beside the bungalow Meriem wandered thoughtfully in the moonlight. She still smarted from Bwana’s, to her, unjust treatment of the Hon. Morison Baynes. Nothing had been explained to her, for both Bwana and My Dear had wished to spare her the mortification and sorrow of the true explanation of Baynes’ proposal. They knew, as Meriem did not, that the man had no intention of marrying her, else he would have come directly to Bwana, knowing full well that no objection would be interposed if Meriem really cared for him. Meriem loved them both and was grateful to them for all that they had done for her; but deep in her little heart surged the savage love of liberty that her years of untrammeled freedom in the jungle had made part and parcel of her being. Now, for the first time since she had come to them, Meriem felt like a prisoner in the bungalow of Bwana and My Dear. Like a caged tigress the girl paced the length of the enclosure. Once she paused near the outer fence, her head upon one side—listening. What was it she had heard? The pad of naked human feet just beyond the garden. She listened for a moment. The sound was not repeated. Then she resumed her restless walking. Down to the opposite end of the garden she passed, turned and retraced her steps toward the upper end. Upon the sward near the bushes that hid the fence, full in the glare of the moonlight, lay a white envelope that had not been there when she had turned almost upon the very spot a moment before. Meriem stopped short in her tracks, listening again, and sniffing—more than ever the tigress; alert, ready. Beyond the bushes a naked black runner squatted, peering through the foliage. He saw her take a step closer to the letter. She had seen it. He rose quietly and following the shadows of the bushes that ran down to the corral was soon gone from sight. Meriem’s trained ears heard his every move. She made no attempt to seek closer knowledge of his identity. Already she had guessed that he was a messenger from the Hon. Morison. She stooped and picked up the envelope. Tearing it open she easily read the contents by the moon’s brilliant light. It was, as she had guessed, from Baynes. “I cannot go without seeing you again,” it read. “Come to the clearing early tomorrow morning and say good-bye to me. Come alone.” There was a little more—words that made her heart beat faster and a happy flush mount her cheek. 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 (2022). The Son of Tarzan. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/90/pg90-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.

WHAT THE CAVE REVEALED

It was a beautiful spring day in May, 1262

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Behind them Korak emerged from the jungle

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