The dark young man flushed angrily. “At least,” he said, “my lord prince, I knowest an English knight when I seest one, an’ if here be an English knight then Sir Malud be a Saracen!”
“Enough,” said the prince and then, turning to Blake: “If thou art not from Jerusalem where art thou from?”
“New York,” replied the American.
“Ha,” whispered Sir Malud to the girl, “didst I not tell you?”
“Tell me what—that he is from New York? Where is that?” she demanded.
“Some stronghold of the infidel,” asserted Malud.
“New York?” repeated the prince. “Be that in the Holy Land?”
“It is sometimes called New Jerusalem,” explained Blake.
“And thou comest to Nimmr through the lines of the enemy? Tell me, sir knight, had they many men-at-arms? And how were their forces disposed? Be they close upon the Valley of the Sepulcher? Thinkest thou they plan an early attack? Come, tell me all—thou canst be of great service.”
“I have come for days through the forest and seen no living man,” said Blake. “No enemy surrounds you.”
“What?” cried the prince.
“Didst I not tell thee?” demanded Malud. “He is an enemy spy. He wouldst lead us into the belief that we are safe that the forces of the sultan may find us off our guard and take Nimmr and the Valley.”
“ ’Od’s blud! Methinks thou beest right, Sir Malud,” cried the prince. “No enemy indeed! Why else then hast the knights of Nimmr lain here seven and a half centuries if there be no horde of infidels surrounding our stronghold?”
“Search me,” said Blake.
“Eh, what?” demanded the prince.
“He hath a quaint manner of speech, my lord prince,” explained Richard, “but I do not think him an enemy of England. Myself will vouch for him an’ you will take him into your service, my lord prince.”
“Wouldst enter my service, sir?” demanded the prince.
Blake glanced at Sir Malud and looked dubious—then his eyes wandered to those of the girl. “I’ll tell the world I would!” he said.
X
The Return of Ulala
Numa was hungry. For three days and three nights he had hunted but always the prey had eluded him. Perhaps Numa was growing old. Not so keen were his scent and his vision, not so swift his charges, nor well timed the spring that heretofore had brought down the quarry. So quick the food of Numa that a fraction of a second, a hair’s breadth, might mark the difference between a full belly and starvation.
Perhaps Numa was growing old, yet he still was a mighty engine of destruction, and now the pangs of hunger had increased his ferocity many-fold, stimulated his cunning, emboldened him to take great risks that his belly might be filled. It was a nervous, irascible, ferocious Numa that crouched beside the trail. His up-pricked ears, his intent and blazing eyes, his quivering nostrils, the gently moving tail-tip, evidenced his awareness of another presence.
Down the wind to the nostrils of Numa the lion came the man-scent. Four days ago, his belly full, Numa had doubtless slunk away at the first indication of the presence of man, but today is another day and another Numa.
Zeyd, three days upon the back track from the menzil of the sheik Ibn Jad, thought of Ateja, of far Guad, congratulated himself upon the good fortune that had thus far smiled upon his escape and flight. His mare moved slowly along the jungle trail, unurged, for the way was long; and just ahead a beast of prey waited in ambush.
But Numa’s were not the only ears to hear, nor his nostrils the only nostrils to scent the coming of the man-thing—another beast crouched near, unknown to Numa.
Overanxious, fearful of being cheated of his meat, Numa made a false move. Down the trail came the mare. She must pass within a yard of Numa, but Numa could not wait. Before she was within the radius of his spring he charged, voicing a horrid roar. Terrified the mare reared and, rearing, tried to turn and bolt. Overbalanced, she toppled backward and fell, and in falling unhorsed Zeyd; but in the instant she was up and flying back along the trail, leaving her master in the path of the charging lion.
Horrified, the man saw the snarling face, the bared fangs almost upon him. Then he saw something else—something equally awe-inspiring—a naked giant who leaped from a swaying branch full upon the back of the great cat. He saw a bronzed arm encircle the neck of the beast of prey as the lion was borne to earth by the weight and impact of the man’s body. He saw a heavy knife flashing in the air, striking home again and again as the frenzied lion threw itself about in futile effort to dislodge the thing upon its back. He heard the roars and the growls of el-adrea, and mingled with them were growls and snarls that turned his blood cold, for he saw that they came from the lips of the man-beast.
Then Numa went limp and the giant arose and stood above the carcass. He placed one foot upon it and, raising his face toward the heavens, voiced a hideous scream that froze the marrow in the bones of the Beduin—a scream that few men have heard: the victory cry of the bull ape.
It was then that Zeyd recognized his saviour and shuddered again as he saw that it was Tarzan of the Apes. The ape-man looked down at him.
“Thou art from the menzil of Ibn Jad,” he said.
“I am but a poor man,” replied Zeyd. “I but followed where my sheykh led. Hold it not against Zeyd sheykh of the jungle, that he be in thy beled. Spare my poor life I pray thee and may Allah bless thee.”
“I have no wish to harm thee, Beduwy,” replied Tarzan. “What wrong hath been done in my country is the
