Nkima scolded, for he did not want to go away. He was afraid alone in this strange forest; in fact, Nkima's life had been one long complex of terror, relieved only by those occasions when he could snuggle in the lap of his master, safe within the solid walls of Tarzan's bungalow. One of the sentries heard the voices within the hut and crawled part way in.
'There,' said Tarzan to Nkima, 'you see what you have done. Now you had better do as Tarzan tells you and get out of here and into the forest before they catch you and eat you.'
'Who are you talking to?' demanded the sentry. He heard a scampering in the darkness and at the same instant he caught sight of the hole in the roof and almost simultaneously he saw something dark go through it and disappear. 'What was that?' he demanded, nervously.
'That,' said Tarzan, 'was the ghost of your grandfather. He came to tell me that you and your wives and all your children would take sick and die if anything happens to me. He also brought the same message for Nyuto.'
The sentry trembled. 'Call him back,' he begged, 'and tell him that I had nothing to do with it. It is not I, but Nyuto, the chief, who is going to kill you.'
'I cannot call him back,' said Tarzan, 'and so you had better tell Nyuto not to kill me.'
'I cannot see Nyuto until morning,' wailed the sentry. 'Perhaps then it will be too late.'
'No,' said Tarzan. 'The ghost of your grandfather will not do anything until tomorrow.'
Terrified, the sentry returned to his post where Tarzan heard him fearfully and excitedly discussing the matter with his companion until the ape-man finally dropped off to sleep again.
It was late the following morning before anyone entered the hut in which Tarzan was confined. Then came Lukedi with another gourd of milk. He was very much excited.
'Is what Ogonyo says true?' he demanded.
'Who is Ogonyo?' asked Tarzan.
'He was one of the warriors who stood guard here last night, and he has told Nyuto and all the village that he heard the ghost of his grandfather talking with you and that the ghost said that he would kill everyone in the village if you were harmed, and now everyone is afraid.'
'And Nyuto?' asked Tarzan.
'Nyuto is not afraid of anything,' said Lukedi.
'Not even of ghosts of grandfathers?' asked Tarzan.
'No. He alone of all the Bagegos is not afraid of the men of The Lost Tribe, and now he is very angry at you because you have frightened his people and this evening you are to be burned. Look!' And Lukedi pointed to the low doorway of the hut. 'From here you can see them placing the stake to which you are to be bound, and the boys are in the forest gathering fagots.'
Tarzan pointed toward the hole in the roof. 'There,' he said, 'is the hole made by the ghost of Ogonyo's grandfather. Fetch Nyuto and let him see. Then, perhaps, he will believe.'
'It will make no difference,' said Lukedi. 'If he saw a thousand ghosts with his own eyes, he would not be afraid. He is very brave, but he is also very stubborn and a fool. Now we shall all die.'
'Unquestionably,' said Tarzan.
'Can you not save me?' asked Lukedi.
'If you will help me to escape, I promise you that the ghosts shall not harm you.'
'Oh, if I could but do it,' said Lukedi, as he passed the gourd of milk to the ape-man.
'You bring me nothing but milk,' said Tarzan. 'Why is that?'
'In this village we belong to the Buliso clan and, therefore, we may not drink the milk nor eat the flesh of Timba, the black cow, so when we have guests or prisoners we save this food for them.'
Tarzan was glad that the totem of the Buliso clan was a cow instead of a grasshopper, or rainwater from the roofs of houses or one of the hundreds of other objects that are venerated by different clans, for while Tarzan's early training had not placed grasshoppers beyond the pale as food for men, he much preferred the milk of Timba.
'I wish that Nyuto would see me and talk with me,' said Tarzan of the Apes. 'Then he would know that it would be better to have me for a friend than for an enemy. Many men have tried to kill me, many chiefs greater than Nyuto. This is not the first hut in which I have lain a prisoner, nor is it the first time that men have prepared fires to receive me, yet I still live, Lukedi, and many of them are dead. Go, therefore, to Nyuto and advise him to treat me as a friend, for I am not from The Lost Tribe of the Wiramwazi.'
'I believe you,' said Lukedi, 'and I shall go and beg Nyuto to hear me, but I am afraid that he will not.'
As the youth reached the doorway of the hut, there suddenly arose a great commotion in the village. Tarzan heard men issuing orders. He heard children crying and the pounding of many naked feet upon the hard ground. Then the war-drums boomed and he heard clashing of weapons upon shields and loud shouting. He saw the guards before the doorway spring to their feet and run to join the other warriors and then Lukedi, at the doorway, shrank back with a cry of terror.
'They come! They come!' he cried, and ran to the far side of the hut where he crouched in terror.
Chapter Six
ERICH VON HARBEN looked into the faces of the tall, almost naked, warriors whose weapons menaced him across the gunwale of their low dugout, and the first thing to attract his attention was the nature of those weapons.
Their spears were unlike any that he had ever seen in the hands of modern savages. Corresponding with the ordinary spear of the African savage, they carried a heavy, and formidable javelin that suggested to the mind of the young archaeologist nothing other than the ancient Roman pike, and this similarity was further confirmed by the appearance of the short, broad, two-edged swords that dangled in scabbards supported by straps passing over the left shoulders of the warriors. If this weapon was not the gladius Hispanus of the Imperial Legionary, von Harben felt that his studies and researches had been for naught.
'Ask them what they want, Gabula,' he directed. 'Perhaps they will understand you.'
'Who are you and what do you want of us?' demanded Gabula in the Bantu dialect of his tribe.
'We wish to be friends,' added von Harben in the same dialect. 'We have come to visit your country. Take us to your chief.'
A tall Negro in the stern of the dugout shook his head. 'I do not understand you,' he said. 'You are our prisoners. We are going to take you with us to our masters. Come, get into the boat. If you resist or make trouble we shall kill you.'
'They speak a strange language,' said Gabula. 'I do not understand them.'
Surprise and incredulity were reflected in the expression on von Harben's face, and he experienced such a sensation as one might who looked upon a man suddenly resurrected after having been dead for nearly two thousand years.
Von Harben had been a close student of ancient Rome and its long dead language, but how different was the living tongue, which he heard and which he recognized for what it was, from the dead and musty pages of ancient manuscripts.
He understood enough of what the man had said to get his meaning, but he recognized the tongue as a hybrid of Latin and Bantu root words, though the inflections appeared to be uniformly those of the Latin language.
In his student days von Harben had often imagined himself a citizen of Rome . He had delivered orations in the Forum and had addressed his troops in the field in Africa and in Gaul , but how different it all seemed now when he was faced with the actuality rather than the figment of imagination. His voice sounded strange in his own ears and his words came haltingly as he spoke to the tall man in the language of the Caesars.
'We are not enemies,' he said. 'We have come as friends to visit your country,' and then he waited, scarce believing that the man could understand him.
'Are you a citizen of Rome ?' demanded the warrior.
'No, but my country is at peace with Rome ,' replied von Harben.
