“It’s quite fair,” agreed Blake. He was hoping that the plan would work out as easily as Stimbol appeared to believe that it would, but he was far from believing and so he thought it best to suggest an alternative that he was confident would have to be resorted to in the end. “In the event that one of us has difficulty in securing the requisite number of volunteers,” he said, “I believe that we can enlist the necessary men by offering a bonus to be paid upon safe arrival at railhead. If I am short of men I shall be willing to do so.”
“Not a bad idea if you’re afraid you can’t hold ’em together after I leave you,” said Stimbol. “It will be an added factor of safety for you, too; but as for me my men will live up to their original agreement or there’ll be some mighty sick niggers in these parts. What say we have ’em up and find out just how much of a job we’ve got on our hands?” He glanced about until his eyes fell on a head man. “Here, you!” he called. “Come here and make it snappy.”
The black approached and stopped before the two white men. “You called me, Bwana?” he asked.
“Gather up everyone in camp,” directed Stimbol. “Have them up here in five minutes for a palaver—every last man-jack of them.”
“Yes, Bwana.”
As the head man withdrew Stimbol turned to Blake. “Any stranger in camp today?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“Ran across a wild man while I was hunting,” replied Stimbol. “He ordered me out of the jungle. What do you know about that?” and Stimbol laughed.
“A wild man?”
“Yes. Some crazy nut I suppose. The niggers seemed to know about him.”
“Who is he?”
“Calls himself Tarzan.”
Blake elevated his brows. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “You have met Tarzan of the Apes and he has ordered you out of the jungle?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Certainly, and if he ever orders me out of his jungle, I’ll go.”
“You would, but not Wilbur Stimbol.”
“Why did he order you out?” asked Blake.
“He just ordered me out, that’s all. Wouldn’t let me shoot a gorilla I’d been stalking. The fellow saved the gorilla from a python, killed the python, ordered me out of the jungle, said he’d visit us in camp later and walked away with the gorilla like they were old pals. I never saw anything like it, but it doesn’t make any difference to me who or what he thinks he is, I know who and what I am and it’s going to take more than a half-wit to scare me out of this country till I’m good and ready to go.”
“So you think Tarzan of the Apes is a half-wit?”
“I think anyone’s a half-wit who’d run about this jungle naked and unarmed.”
“You’ll find he’s not a half-wit, Stimbol; and unless you want to get in more trouble than you ever imagined existed, you’ll do just as Tarzan of the Apes tells you to do.”
“What do you know about him? Have you ever seen him?”
“No,” replied Blake. “But I have heard a lot about him from our men. He’s as much a part of this locality as the jungle, or the lions. Very few, if any, of our men have seen him, but he has the same hold upon their imaginations and superstitions as any of their demons, and they are even more fearful of incurring his displeasure. If they think Tarzan has it in for us we’re out of luck.”
“Well, all I’ve got to say is that if this monkey-man knows when he’s well off he’ll not come butting into the affairs of Wilbur Stimbol.”
“And he’s coming to visit us, is he?” said Blake. “Well, I certainly want to see him. I’ve heard of little else since we struck his country.”
“It’s funny I never heard of him,” said Stimbol.
“You never talk with the men,” Blake reminded him.
“Gad, it seems as though I’m doing nothing but talk to them,” grumbled Stimbol.
“I said, talk with them.”
“I don’t chum with niggers,” sneered Stimbol.
Blake grinned.
“Here are the men,” said Stimbol. He turned toward the waiting porters and askari and cleared his throat. “Mr. Blake and I are going to separate,” he announced. “Everything has been divided. I am going to hunt a little farther to the west, make a circle toward the south and return to the coast by a new route. I do not know what Mr. Blake’s plans are, but he is going to get half the porters and half the askari, and I want to tell you niggers right now that there isn’t going to be any funny business about it. Half of you are going with Mr. Blake whether you like it or not.”
He paused, impressively, to let the full weight of his pronouncement sink home. “As usual,” he continued, “I wish to keep everyone contented and happy, so I’m going to give you who may want to go with Mr. Blake an opportunity to do so. Now listen! The packs over on that side are Mr. Blake’s; those on this side are mine. All those who are willing to accompany Mr. Blake go over on that side!”
There was a moment’s hesitation upon the part of the men and then some of them moved quietly over among Blake’s packs. Others followed as their understandings slowly grasped the meaning of Stimbol’s words until all of the men stood upon Blake’s side.
Stimbol turned to Blake with a laugh and a shake of his head. “Gad!” he exclaimed. “Did you ever see such a dumb bunch? No one could have explained the thing more simply than I and yet look at ’em! Not one of them understood me!”
“Are you quite
