best he could, and Corrie helped him. At the edge of the jungle, men were already digging the graves for the three dead. Native women were boiling water in which to sterilize bandages.
Bubonovitch and Rosetti were sitting beside Jerry when the doctor and Corrie finally reached him. When Corrie saw who it was, she went white and caught her breath in a sudden gasp. Both Bubonovitch and Rosetti were watching her. Her reaction told them more than any words could have; because words are sometimes spoken to deceive.
With the help of the two sergeants and Corrie, each trying to do something for the man they all loved, the doctor removed Jerry's shirt and examined the wound carefully.
'Is it very bad?' asked Corrie.
'I don't think so,' replied the doctor. 'It certainly missed his heart, and I'm sure it missed his lungs, also. He hasn't brought up any blood, has he, sergeant?'
'No,' said Bubonovitch.
'He's suffering mostly from shock and partly from loss of blood. I think he's going to be all right. Help me turn him over—very gently, now.'
There was a small round hole in Jerry's back just to the right of his left shoulder blade. It had not bled much.
'He must have been born under a lucky star,' said the doctor. 'We won't have to probe, and that's a good thing; because I have no instruments. The bullet bored straight through, clean as a whistle.' He washed the wounds with sterile water, and bandaged them loosely. 'That's all I can do,' he said. 'One of you stay with him. When he comes to, keep him quiet.'
'I'll stay,' said Corrie.
'You men can help me over here, if you will,' said the doctor.
'If you need us, Miss, just holler,' said Rosetti.
Corrie sat beside the wounded man and bathed his face with cool water. She didn't know what else to do, but she knew she wanted to do something for him. Whatever mild rancor she had thought that she felt toward him had been expunged by the sight of his blood and his helplessness.
Presently he sighed and opened his eyes. He blinked them a few times, an expression of incredulity in them, as he saw the girl's face close above his. Then he smiled; and reaching up, he pressed her hand.
'You're going to be all right, Jerry,' she said.
'I am all right—now,' he said.
He had held her hand for but a second. Now she took his and stroked it. They just smiled at each other. All was right with the world.
Capt. van Prins was having litters built for the wounded. He came over to see Jerry. 'How you feeling?' he asked.
'Fine.'
'Good. I've decided to move out of here just as soon as possible. The Japs are almost sure to sneak back on us tonight, and this is no place to defend successfully. I know a place that is. We can make it in two marches. As soon as the litters are finished and our dead buried, we'll move out of here. I'm going to burn the village as a lesson to the natives. These people have been collaborating with the enemy. They must be punished.'
'Oh, no!' cried Corrie. 'That would be most unfair. You would be punishing the innocent with the guilty. Take Lara, for instance. She has helped us twice. She has told me that there are only two people here who wanted to help the Japs—the chief and Amat. It would be cruel to burn down the homes of those who are loyal. Remember—if it had not been for Lara, the Japs might have taken us by surprise.'
'I guess that you are right, Corrie,' said van Prins. 'Anyway, you've given me a better idea.'
He walked away, and ten minutes later the chief was taken to one side of the village and shot by a firing squad.
The guerrillas gathered around the graves of their dead. The doctor said a short prayer, three volleys were fired, and the graves were filled. The wounded were lifted onto the litters, the rear guard marched into the village, the little company was ready to move.
Jerry objected to being carried, insisting that he could walk. Bubonovitch, Rosetti, and Corrie were trying to dissuade him when the doctor walked up. 'What's going on here?' he asked. They told him, 'You stay on that litter young man,' he said to Jerry, and to Bubonovitch and Rosetti, 'If he tries to get off of it, tie him down.'
Jerry grinned. 'I'll be good, Doc,' he said, 'but I hate to have four men carrying me when I can walk just as well as not.'
Following the shooting of the chief, the natives were afraid. They did not know how many more might be shot. Lara came to Corrie just as van Prins came along. He recognized the girl.
'You can tell your people,' he said, 'that largely because of you and the help you gave us we did not burn the village as we intended. We punished only the chief. He had been helping our enemies. When we come back, if Amat is here we will punish him also. The rest of you need never fear us if you do not help the enemy. We know that you have to treat them well, or be mistreated. We understand that, but do not help them any more than is absolutely necessary.' He took a quick look around the kampong. 'Where is Tarzan?' he asked.
'That's right,' said Bubonovitch. 'Where is he?'
'Geeze,' said Rosetti. 'He never come back to the village after the scrap. But he wasn't wounded. He was all right when we seen him last, just before we brung the Cap'n out.'
'Don't worry about him,' said Bubonovitch. 'He can take care of himself and all the rest of us into the bargain.'
'I can leave some men here to tell him where we are going to camp,' said van Prins.
'You don't even have to do that,' said Bubonovitch. 'He'll find us. Lara can tell him which way we went out. He'll track us better than a bloodhound.'
'All right,' said van Prins, 'let's get going.'
When Tarzan had looked at the wounded American, the latter had seemed in a very bad way. Tarzan was sure the wound was fatal. His anger against the Japs flared, for he liked this young flier. Unnoticed by the others, he swung into the trees and was off on the trail of the enemy.
He caught up with them at a point where a captain and two lieutenants had rallied them—the only surviving officers of the two companies. High in the trees above them, a grim figure looked down upon them. It fitted an arrow to its bow. The twang of the bow string was drowned by the jabbering of the monkey-men, the shouted commands of their officers. The captain lurched forward upon his face, a bamboo shaft through his heart. As he fell upon it, the arrow was driven through his body, so that it protruded from his back.
For a moment the Japs were stunned to silence; then the shouting commenced again, as they fired into the jungle in all directions with rules and machine guns. Seventy-five feet above their bullets, Tarzan watched them, another bolt already to be shot.
This time he picked out one of the lieutenants. As he loosed the missile, he moved quietly to another position several hundred feet away. As their second officer fell, struck down mysteriously, the Japs commenced to show signs of panic. Now they fired wildly into the underbrush and into the trees.
When the last officer went down the Japs began to run along the trail in the direction of their main camp. They had had enough. But Tarzan had not. He followed them until all his arrows were gone, each one imbedded in the body of a Jap. The screaming wounded were tearing arrows from backs and bellies. The silent dead were left behind for the tigers and the wild dogs.
Tarzan unslung the rifle from across his back and emptied a clip into the broken ranks of the fleeing enemy; then he turned and swung back in the direction of the village. His American friend had been avenged.
He did not follow the trail. He did not even travel in the direction of the village for long. He ranged deep into the primeval forest, viewing ancient things that perhaps no other human eye had ever looked upon—patriarchs of the forest, moss covered and hoary with age, clothed in giant creepers, vines, and huge air plants, garlanded with orchids.
As the wind changed and a vagrant breeze blew into his face, he caught the scent of man. And presently he saw a little trail, such as men make. Dropping lower, he saw a snare, such as primitive hunters set for small game. He had come into the forest to be alone and get away from men. He was not antisocial; but occasionally he longed for solitude, or the restful companionship of beasts. Even the jabbering, scolding monkeys were often a welcome relief, for they were amusing. Few men were.
