'I did not do it,' protested Jezebel.
'They will kill you just the same—afterwards. They are beasts.'
Suddenly he stooped, seized the corpse by the ankles and, dragging it to the far end of the hut, he covered it with rugs and clothing.
'Now keep quiet until I come back,' he said to Jezebel. 'If you give an alarm I'll kill you myself before they have a chance to.'
He rummaged in a dark corner of the but and brought forth a revolver with its holster and belt, which he buckled about his hips, and a rifle which he leaned beside the doorway.
'When I return be ready to come with me,' he snapped, and raising the rug that covered the doorway, he stepped out into the village.
Quickly he made his way to where the ponies of the band were tethered. Here were several of the blacks loitering near the animals.
'Where is the headman?' he asked, but none of them understood English. He tried to tell them by means of signs, to saddle two horses, but they only shook their heads. If they understood him, as they doubtless did, they refused to take orders from him.
At this juncture the headman, attracted from a nearby but, approached. He understood a little pidgin English, and Stabutch had no difficulty in making him understand that he wanted two horses saddled; but the headman wanted to know more. Did the chief want them?
'Yes, he wants them,' replied Stabutch. 'He sent me to get them. The chief is sick. Drink too much.' Stabutch laughed and the headman seemed to understand.
'Who go with you?' asked the headman.
Stabutch hesitated. Well, he might as well tell him—everyone would see the girl ride out with him anyway. 'The girl,' he said.
The headman's eyes narrowed. 'The Chief say?' he asked. 'Yes. The girl thinks the white man not dead. The Chief send me to look for him.'
'You take men?'
'No. Man come back with us if girl say so. Be afraid of black men. No come.'
The other nodded understandingly and ordered two horses saddled and bridled. 'Him dead,' he offered.
Stabutch shrugged. 'We see,' he replied, as he led the two animals toward the hut where Jezebel awaited him.
The headman accompanied him, and Stabutch was in terror. What if the man insisted on entering the hut to see his chief? Stabutch loosened the revolver in its holster. Now his greatest fear was that the shot might attract others to the hut. That would never do. He must find some other way. He stopped and the headman halted with him.
'Do not come to the hut yet,' said Stabutch.
'Why?' asked the headman.
'The girl is afraid. If she sees you she will think we are deceiving her, and she may refuse to show me where the man is. We promised her that no black man would come.'
The headman hesitated. Then he shrugged and turned back. 'All right,' he said.
'And tell them to leave the gates open till we have gone,' called Stabutch.
At the hut door he called to the girl. 'All ready,' he said, 'and hand me my rifle when you come out;' but she did not know what a rifle was and he had to step in and get it himself.
Jezebel looked at the horses with dismay.
At the thought of riding one of these strange beasts alone she was terrified. 'I cannot do it,' she told Stabutch.
'You will have to—or die,' he whispered. 'I'll lead the one you ride. Here, hurry.'
He lifted her into the saddle and showed her how to use the stirrups and hold the reins. Then he put a rope about the neck of her horse; and, mounting his own, he led hers out through the village gateway while half a hundred murderers watched them depart.
As they turned upward toward the higher hills the setting sun projected their shadows far ahead, and presently night descended upon them and hid their sudden change of direction from any watchers there may have been at the village gates.
Chapter 21
An Awakening
Danny 'Gunner' Patrick opened his eyes and stared up at the blue African sky. Slowly consciousness returned and with it the realization that his head pained severely. He raised a hand and felt of it. What was that? He looked at his hand and saw that it was bloody.
'Geeze!' he muttered. 'They got me!' He tried to recall how it had happened. 'I knew the finger was on me, but how the hell did they get me? Where was I?' His thoughts were all back in Chicago , and he was puzzled. Vaguely he felt that he had made his get-away, and yet they had 'got' him. He could not figure it out.
Then he turned his head slightly and saw lofty mountains looming near. Slowly and painfully he sat up and looked around. Memory, partial and fragmentary, returned. 'I must have fell off them mountains,' he mused, 'while I was lookin' for camp.'
Gingerly he rose to his feet and was relieved to find that he was not seriously injured—at least his arms and legs were intact. 'My head never was much good. Geeze, it hurts, though.'
A single urge dominated him—he must find camp. Old Smithy would be worrying about him if he did not return. Where was Obambi? 'I wonder if he fell off too,' he muttered, looking about him. But Obambi, neither dead nor alive, was in sight; and so the 'Gunner' started upon his fruitless search for camp.
At first he wandered toward the northwest, directly away from Smith's last camp. Tongani, the baboon, sitting upon his sentinel rock, saw him coming and sounded the alarm. At first Danny saw only a couple of 'monkeys' coming toward him, barking and growling. He saw them stop occasionally and place the backs of their heads against the ground and he mentally classified them as 'nutty monks;' but when their numbers were swollen to a hundred and he finally realized the potential danger lying in those powerful jaws and sharp fangs, he altered his course and turned toward the southwest.
For a short distance the tongani followed him, but when they saw that he intended them no harm they let him proceed and returned to their interrupted feeding, while the man, with a sigh of relief, continued on his way.
In a ravine Danny found water, and with the discovery came a realization of his thirst and his hunger. He drank at the same pool at which Tarzan had slain Horta, the boar; and he also washed the blood from his head and face as well as he could. Then he continued on his aimless wandering. This time he climbed higher up the slope toward the mountains, in a southeasterly direction, and was headed at last toward the location of the now abandoned camp. Chance and the tongani had set him upon the right trail.
In a short time he reached a spot that seemed familiar; and here he stopped and looked around in an effort to recall his wandering mental faculties, which he fully realized were not functioning properly.
'That bat on the bean sure knocked me cuckoo,' he remarked, half aloud. 'Geeze, what's that?' Something was moving in the tall grass through which he had just come. He watched intently and a moment later saw the head of Sheeta, the panther, parting the grasses a short distance from him. The scene was suddenly familiar.
'I gotcha Steve!' exclaimed the 'Gunner.' 'Me and that Tarzan guy flopped here last night—now I remember.'
He also remembered how Tarzan had chased the panther away by 'running a bluff on him,' and he wondered if he could do the same thing.
'Geeze, what a ornery lookin' pan! I'll bet you got a rotten disposition—and that Tarzan guy just growled and ran at you, and you beat it. Say, I don't believe it, if I did see it myself. Whyinell don't you go on about your business, you big stiff? You give me the heeby-jeebies.' He stooped and picked up a fragment of rock. 'Beat it!' he yelled, as he hurled the missile at Sheeta.
