Again Tarzan ignored Stimbol. “Get ready to move out about an hour after sunrise,” he said to Blake. “There will be no trouble about dividing the safari. I shall be here to attend to that and give you your final instructions,” and as he spoke he turned and disappeared in the darkness.
VI
Ara the Lightning
Before dawn the camp was astir and by the appointed hour the packs were made and all was in readiness. The porters loitered, awaiting the word that would start the safari upon its eastward journey toward the coast. Blake and Stimbol smoked in silence. The foliage of a nearby tree moved to the swaying of a branch and Tarzan of the Apes dropped lightly into the camp. Exclamations of surprise broke from the lips of the negroes—surprise clearly tinged with terror. The ape-man turned toward them and addressed them in their own dialect.
“I am Tarzan of the Apes,” he said, “Lord of the Jungle. You have brought white men into my country to kill my people. I am displeased. Those of you who wish to live to return to your villages and your families will listen well and do as Tarzan commands.
“You,” he pointed at the chief head man, “shall accompany the younger white man whom I will permit to make pictures in my country where and when he will. Select half the men of the safari to accompany the young bwana.”
“And you,” he addressed another head man, “take those men that remain and escort the older bwana to railhead in the most direct route and without delay. He is not permitted to hunt and there will be no killing except for food or self-defense. Do not fail me. Remember always that Tarzan watches and Tarzan never forgets.”
He turned then to the white men. “Blake,” he said, “the arrangements are made. You may leave when you please, with your own safari, and go where you please. The question of hunting is left to your own discretion—you are the guest of Tarzan.”
“And you,” he addressed Stimbol, “will be taken directly out of the country by the shortest route. You will be permitted to carry firearms for use in self-defense. If you abuse this permission they will be taken away from you. Do not hunt, even for food—your head man will attend to that.”
“Now just hold your horses,” blustered Stimbol. “If you think I’m going to put up with any such high-handed interference with my rights as an American citizen you’re very much mistaken. Why I could buy and sell you and your damned jungle forty times and not know that I’d spent a cent. For God’s sake, Blake, tell this poor fool who I am before he gets himself into a lot of trouble.”
Tarzan turned to the head man he had selected for Stimbol. “You may upload and march,” he said. “If this white man does not follow you, leave him behind. Take good care of him if he obeys me and deliver him safely at railhead. Obey his orders if they do not conflict with those that I have given you. Go!”
A moment later Stimbol’s safari was preparing to depart and, at Tarzan’s request, Blake’s too was moving out of camp. Stimbol swore and threatened, but his men, sullenly ignoring him, filed off into the jungle toward the east. Tarzan had departed, swinging into the trees and disappearing among the foliage, and at last Stimbol stood alone in the deserted camp.
Thwarted, humiliated, almost frothing with rage he ran after his men, screaming commands and threats that were ignored. Later in the day, sullen and silent, he marched near the head of the long file of porters and askari, convinced at last that the power of the ape-man was greater than his; but in his heart burned resentment and in his mind rioted plans for vengeance—plans that he knew were futile.
Tarzan, wishing to assure himself that his instructions were being carried out, had swung far ahead and was waiting in the crotch of a tree that overhung the trail along which Stimbol must pass. In the distance he could hear the sounds that arose from the marching safari. Along the trail from the opposite direction something was approaching. The ape-man could not see it but he knew what it was. Above the tree tops black clouds rolled low, but no air stirred in the jungle.
Along the trail came a great, shaggy, black man-thing. Tarzan of the Apes hailed it as it came in sight of his arboreal perch.
“Bolgani!” he called in low tones.
The gorilla stopped. He stood erect upon his hind feet and looked about.
“I am Tarzan,” said the ape-man.
Bolgani grunted. “I am Bolgani,” he replied.
“The Tarmangani comes,” warned Tarzan.
“I kill!” growled Bolgani.
“Let the Tarmangani pass,” said Tarzan. “He and his people have many thunder sticks. I have sent this Tarmangani out of the jungle. Let him pass. Go a little way from the trail—the stupid Gomangani and the Tarmangani, who is stupider, will pass by without knowing that Tarzan and Bolgani are near.”
From the darkening sky distant thunder boomed and the two beasts looked upward toward the broad field of Nature’s powers, more savage and destructive than their own.
“Pand the thunder hunts in the sky,” remarked the ape-man.
“Hunts for Usha the wind,” said Bolgani.
“Presently we shall hear Usha fleeing through the trees to escape.” Tarzan viewed the lowering, black clouds. “Even Kudu the sun fears Pand, hiding his face when Pand hunts.”
Ara the lightning shot through the sky. To the two beasts it was a bolt from Pand’s bow and the great drops of rain that commenced to fall shortly after was Meeta, the blood of Usha the wind, pouring from many a wound.
The jungle bent to a great pressure but as yet there was no other noise than the rolling thunder. The trees whipped back and Usha tore through the forest. The darkness increased. The rain fell in great masses. Leaves
