“He’s no carpenter, and has more the look of a landlord about him,” the scientist said, watching as Gazda took a couple swaggering steps toward the yurt before he half-turned with one hand gesturing to it.
“If it is your home, I apologize that we have made ourselves guests,” Van Resen added.
“I think he’s lost like we are,” Miss James whimpered, pulling away to wipe her eyes.
The wild man hooted his concern, quickly closing the gap and embracing her and the scientist, cooing softly, saying: “There—there, Miss James...”
“He even used my accent,” the scientist observed, as Gazda stepped back to regard Van Resen over Miss James’ shoulder. He stared at the scientist’s whiskers, absently playing with a medallion that hung around his neck.
Van Resen shifted the governess to Mr. Quarrie’s arms. He held his eyeglasses out to take advantage of their magnifying properties and moved toward the wild man, stopping a mere six inches from the steel pendant.
“Another part of the puzzle,” Miss James sighed.
“The mark—is familiar—but I must hold it still...” Van Resen lifted his hand and barely touched the medallion before the wild man jumped out of reach.
A low growl rumbled from Gazda’s chest.
The scientist watched him, rubbing the sudden chill out of his fingertips.
“But I cannot place it,” Van Resen said, running a shrewd eye over the big man, before his eyes returned to the medallion. “Forgive me, Gazda...”
The wild man shook his head vigorously, but advanced no farther.
“Where is Lilly?” Miss James asked suddenly, glancing up at the yurt. “The captain and the others?”
Van Resen noticed the jungle giant’s shoulders slump at mention of Lilly’s name and his dark eyes shifted to the yurt.
“Lilly is resting with Abby,” Mr. Quarrie answered. “The captain and Jacob are out looking for you.”
The scientist frowned, watching the wild man wince at utterance of the girl’s name.
“For me? Have they not returned?” Miss James paled as Phillip Holmes briefly thrust his head out the cabin door.
“The captain and Jacob are still out there,” Van Resen said. His finger came up to rub the side of his eyeglasses as he watched Gazda.
“What will we do to find them?” Miss James asked. She had also noticed Gazda’s growing discomfort and had gone over, grasping his hand to draw him to his full height.
The wild man stared into Miss James’ eyes. The lines of worry on his face flattened out, and his expression grew confident, even eager.
He made a quiet panting sound as Miss James returned his gaze, and soon she nodded in unison with the wild man.
“Ginny’s friends are missing,” she said flatly.
The wild man hooted his understanding, and then he made a repetitive, barking sound—pointing at the jungle that ringed them around.
“What’s he saying?” Mr. Quarrie asked, fascinated by the non-verbal communication.
Van Resen moved closer, leaning in to study the scar that ran along the wild man’s hairline.
Gazda gripped Miss James’ shoulders gently, and made a coughing bark before he slapped his own chest, and pointed at the jungle saying: “Gazda gets Ginny friends!”
“By God...” Mr. Quarrie roared. “He’s an American!”
“Can you help, Gazda?” Miss James asked, stroking his powerful bicep.
The wild man showed his sharp teeth in a reassuring smile. He rose up onto his toes and then squatted low to slap the ground with both palms before leaping up again to stand in place—the very picture of masculine perfection and nobility.
He gently took Miss James soft hand and led her away from the others.
The governess hesitated, but the strength of the will behind those eyes had captured her heart, and he drew her blushing some distance into the grass where throwing caution to the wind she moved into his embrace.
Some yards away, they stood and the wild man lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. There was something in his expression then, some doubt, as he looked at the others and the yurt.
“Gazda help. Ginny stay,” he said, finally.
“Do not worry,” Virginia said reassuringly. “I will wait for you always.”
Gazda sprinted east until he reached the closest tree where he leapt into its branches. In a blink, he’d scrambled through the foliage out of sight.
The other castaways had followed his action. Both men had observed the gallant leave-taking, but only Van Resen’s face showed dismay.
“More of a monkey than an American,” Mr. Quarrie observed, lifting his arms to mimic Gazda’s actions in the trees.
“More of an ape,” Van Resen observed quietly as Miss James returned to them. “He did not harm you?”
“No... Gazda is a good and decent man who has overcome great challenges to survive here,” the governess insisted, blushing. “But I know he would be at home in London...”
“That city has been home to other wild men...” Van Resen agreed quietly.
“Poor Lilly!” Virginia cried, deaf to Van Resen’s cynicism, pushing past him to peer up at the cabin.
“She was deathly ill,” the scientist said, reaching out to grip the woman’s shoulders.
“How can I forgive myself?” Miss James said, pushing past.
Van Resen watched the governess climb the ladder, but his eyes were drawn back to the trees.
“I thought Lilly looked better.” Mr. Quarrie hung his head sullenly and muttered, “Her color has returned.”
“True—without care or treatment,” the scientist said, suddenly moving briskly toward the yurt. “Puzzling, like that medallion, which puts me in mind of the Cossack’s journal...”
CHAPTER 23 – Hunter and Huntress
Gazda paused in his sprint through the canopy to light upon the angled limb of a khaya tree and catch his breath before he continued the hunt for Ginny’s friends. His breathing slowed, but his heart still pounded from traveling the jungle at speed while the sun was high and its effect was upon him.
His pulse raced anew at the thought of the night apes in his lair.
He felt no violation from these strangers; rather it was the unfamiliar interaction that had caused his consternation and discomfort. Their persistent upright stance, especially among the night ape males, was disturbing and now he understood how he had
