kill; and in the arena, the shaggy bulls danced in simulation of the hunt. Magra lay as they had thrown her, exhausted, hopeless, resigned to death, knowing that nothing could save her now.
Goro, the moon, hung upon the verge of the fateful moment, when a tarmangani, naked but for a G string, dropped from an overhanging tree into the arena. With growls and mutterings of rage, the bulls turned upon the intruder who dared thus sacrilegiously to invade the sanctity of their holy of holies. The king ape, crouching, led them.
'I am Ungo,' he said. 'I kill!'
Tarzan, too, crouched and growled as he advanced to meet the king ape. 'I am Tarzan of the Apes,' he said in the language of the first-men, the only language he had known for the first twenty years of his life. 'I am Tarzan of the Apes, mighty hunter, mighty fighter. I kill!'
One word of the ape-man's challenge Magra had understood—'Tarzan.' Astounded, she opened her eyes to see the king ape and Tarzan circling one another, each looking for an opening. What a brave but what a futile gesture the man was making in her defense! He was giving his life for her, and uselessly. What chance had he against the huge, primordial beast?
Suddenly, Tarzan reached out and seized the ape's wrist; then, turning quickly, he hurled the great creature over his shoulder heavily to the ground; but instantly Ungo was on his feet again. Growling and roaring horribly, he charged. This time he would overwhelm the puny man-thing with his great weight, crush him in those mighty arms.
Magra trembled for the man, and she blanched as she saw him meet the charge with growls equally as bestial as those of the ape. Could this growling, snarling beast be the quiet, resourceful man she had come to love? Was he, after all, but a primitive Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Spellbound and horrified, she watched.
Swift as Ara, the lightning, is Tarzan; as agile as Sheeta, the panther. Dodging, and ducking beneath Ungo's great flailing arms, he leaped upon the hairy back and locked a full Nelson on the raging ape. As he applied the pressure of his mighty thews, the ape screamed in agony.
'Kreegah!' shouted Tarzan, bearing down a little harder. 'Surrender!'
The members of the Gregory party sat around their camp fire listening to the throbbing of the distant drum and waiting in nervous expectancy, for what, they did not know.
'It is the Dum-Dum of the great apes, I think,' said d'Arnot. 'Tarzan has told me about them. When the full moon hangs at zenith, the bulls kill a victim. It is, perhaps, a rite older than the human race, the tiny germ from which all religious observances have sprung.'
'And Tarzan has seen this rite performed?' asked Helen.
'He was raised by the great apes,' explained d'Arnot, 'and he has danced the dance of death in many a Dum-Dum.'
'He has helped to kill men and women and tear them to pieces?' demanded Helen.
'No, no!' cried d'Arnot. 'The apes rarely secure a human victim. They did so only once while Tarzan ranged with them, and he saved that one. The victim they prefer is their greatest enemy, the panther.'
'And you think the drums are for Magra?' asked La-vac.
'Yes,' said d'Arnot, 'I fear so.'
'I wish I'd gone after her myself,' said Wolff. 'That guy didn't have no gun.'
'He may not have had a gun,' said d'Arnot, 'but at least he went in the right direction.' Wolff lapsed into moody silence. 'We all had a chance to do something when the ape first took her,' continued d'Arnot; 'but, frankly, I was too stunned to think.'
'It all happened so quickly,' said Gregory. 'It was over before I really knew what had happened.'
'Listen!' exclaimed d'Arnot. 'The drums have stopped.'
He looked up at the moon. 'The moon is at zenith,' he said. 'Tarzan must have been too late.'
'Them gorillas would pull him apart,' said Wolff. 'If it wasn't for Magra, I'd say good riddance.'
'Shut up!' snapped Gregory. 'Without Tarzan, we're lost.'
As they talked, Tarzan and Ungo battled in the arena; and Magra watched in fearful astonishment. She could scarcely believe her eyes as she saw the great ape helpless in the hands of the man. Ungo was screaming in pain. Slowly, relentlessly, his neck was being broken. At last he could stand it no longer, and bellowed, 'Kree-gah!' which means 'I surrender'; and Tarzan released him and sprang to his feet.
'Tarzan is king!' he cried, facing the other bulls.
He stood there, waiting; but no young bull came forward to dispute the right of kingship with him. They had seen what he had done to Ungo, and they were afraid. Thus, by grace of a custom ages old, Tarzan became king of the tribe.
Magra did not understand. She was still terrified. Springing to her feet, she ran to Tarzan and threw her arms about him, pressing close. 'I am afraid,' she said. 'Now they will kill us both.'
Tarzan shook his head. 'No,' he said; 'they will not kill us. They will do whatever I tell them to do, for now I am their king.'
Chapter 12
IN THE LIGHT of early morning, after a night of terror, Atan Thome and Lal Taask started to retrace their steps along the precarious pathway they had so laboriously risked the day before.
'I am glad, master, that you decided to turn back,' said Lal Taask.
'Without porters and askaris, it would be madness to attempt to force our way into The Forbidden City,' growled Thorne. 'We'll return to Bonga and enlist a strong force of men who fear no taboos.'
'If we live to get to Bonga,' said Lal Taask.
'Cowards invite death,' snapped Thorne.
'After last night, who would not be a coward in this damnable country?' demanded Taask. 'You saw it, didn't you? You heard that voice?'
'Yes,' admitted Thorne. 'What was it?'
'I don't know.'
'It was evil,' said Taask. 'It breathed of the grave and of Hell. Men cannot prevail against the forces of another world.'
'Rot!' ejaculated Thorne. 'It has some rational and mundane explanation, if we only knew.'
'But we don't know. I do not care to know. I shall never return here, if Allah permits me to escape alive.'
'Then you will get no share of the diamond,' threatened Atan Thome.
'I shall be content with my life,' replied Lal Taask.
The two men succeeded in negotiating the return trip in safety, and stood again at last upon level ground near the mouth of the gorge. Lal Taask breathed a sigh of relief, and his spirits rose; but Atan Thome was moody and irritable. He had built his hopes so high that to be turned back at what he believed to be the threshold of success plunged him into despondency. With bowed head, he led the way back over the rough terrain toward their last camp at the edge of the forest.
As they were passing through one of the numerous ravines, they were suddenly confronted by a dozen white warriors who leaped from behind great lava boulders and barred their way. They were stalwart men, wearing white plumes and short tunics on the breasts and backs of which were woven a conventionalized bird. They were armed with spears and knives which hung in scabbards at their hips.
The leader spoke to Thorne in a strange tongue; but when he discovered that neither could understand the other, he gave an order to his men who herded Thorne and Taask down the ravine to the river, where lay such a craft as may have floated on the Nile in the days of the Pharaohs. It was an open galley, manned by twenty slaves chained to the thwarts.
At the points of spears, Thorne and Taask were herded aboard; and when file last of the warriors had stepped across the gunwale, the boat put off and started up stream.
Atan Thome broke into laughter; and Lal Taask looked at him in surprise, as did the warriors near him.
'Why do you laugh, master?' asked Lal Taask, fearfully.
