Leaving them, he loafed on through the jungle, stopping once for half a day to bait Numa where he lay upon a fresh kill, until the earth trembled to the thunderous roars of the maddened king of beasts as the ape-man taunted and annoyed him.
Sloughed was the thin veneer of civilization that was Lord Greystoke; back to the primitive, back to the savage beast the ape-man reverted as naturally, as simply, as one changes from one suit to another. It was only in his beloved jungle, surrounded by its savage denizens, that Tarzan of the Apes was truly Tarzan, for always in the presence of civilized men there was a certain restraint that was the outcome of that inherent suspicion that creatures of the wild ever feel for man.
Tired of throwing ripe fruit at Numa, Tarzan swung away through the middle terraces of the forest, lay up for the night far away and in the morning, scenting Bara the deer, made a kill and fed. Lazy, he slept again, until the breaking of twigs and the rustle of down tramped grasses awoke him.
He sniffed the air with sensitive nostrils and listened with ears that could hear an ant walk, and then he smiled. Tantor was coming.
For half a day he lolled on the huge back, listening to Manu the Monkey chattering and scolding among the trees. Then he moved on again.
A day or two later he came upon a large band of monkeys. They seemed much excited and at sight of him they all commenced to jabber and chatter.
“Greetings, Manu!” cried the ape-man. “I am Tarzan, Tarzan of the Apes. What happens in the jungle?”
“Gomangani! Gomangani!” cried one.
“Strange Gomangani!” cried another.
“Gomangani with thunder sticks!” chattered a third.
“Where?” asked the ape-man.
“There! There!” they shouted in chorus, pointing toward the northeast.
“Many sleeps away?” asked Tarzan.
“Close! Close!” the monkeys answered.
“There is one Tarmangani with them?”
“No, only Gomangani. With their thunder sticks they kill little Manu and eat him. Bad Gomangani!”
“Tarzan will talk with them,” said the ape-man.
“They will kill Tarzan with their thunder sticks and eat him,” prophesied a graybeard.
The ape-man laughed and swung off through the trees in the direction Manu had indicated. He had not gone far when the scent spoor of blacks came faintly to his nostrils and this spoor he followed until presently he could hear their voices in the distance.
Silently, warily Tarzan came through the trees, noiseless as the shadows that kept him company, until he stood upon a swaying limb directly above a camp of negroes.
Instantly Tarzan recognized the safari of the young American, Blake, and a second later he dropped to the ground before the astonished eyes of the blacks. Some of them would have run, but others recognized him.
“It is Big Bwana!” they cried. “It is Tarzan of the Apes!”
“Where is your head man?” demanded Tarzan.
A stalwart negro approached him. “I am head man,” he said.
“Where is your master?”
“He is gone, many days,” replied the black.
“Where?”
“We do not know. He hunted with a single askar. There was a great storm. Neither of them ever returned. We searched the jungle for them, but could not find them. We waited in camp where they were to have joined us. They did not come. We did not know what to do. We would not desert the young Bwana, who was kind to us; but we feared that he was dead. We have not provisions to last more than another moon. We decided to return home and tell our story to the friends of the young Bwana.”
“You have done well,” said Tarzan. “Have you seen a company of the desert people in the jungle?”
“We have not seen them,” replied the head man, “but while we were searching for the young Bwana we saw where desert people had camped. It was a fresh camp.”
“Where?”
The black pointed. “It was on the trail to the north Galla country in Abyssinia and when they broke camp they went north.”
“You may return to your village,” said Tarzan, “but first take those things which are the young Bwana’s to his friends to keep for him and send a runner to the home of Tarzan with this message: Send one hundred Waziri to Tarzan in the north Galla country. From the water hole of the smooth, round rocks follow the trail of the desert people.”
“Yes, Big Bwana, it will be done,” said the head man.
“Repeat my message.”
The black boy did as he was bidden.
“Good!” said Tarzan. “I go. Kill not Manu the monkey if you can find other food, for Manu is the cousin of Tarzan and of you.”
“We understand, Big Bwana.”
In the castle of Prince Gobred in the City of Nimmr James Hunter Blake was being schooled in the duties of a Knight of Nimmr. Sir Richard had taken him under his protection and made himself responsible for his training and his conduct.
Prince Gobred, quick to realize Blake’s utter ignorance of even the simplest observances of knighthood, was frankly skeptical, and Sir Malud was almost openly antagonistic, but the loyal Sir Richard was a well beloved knight and so he had his way. Perhaps, too, the influence of the Princess Guinalda was not without its effect upon her sire, for first among the treasures of the Prince of Nimmr ranked his daughter Guinalda; and Guinalda’s curiosity and interest had been excited by the romance of the coming of this fair stranger knight to the buried and forgotten city of Nimmr.
Sir Richard had clothed Blake from his own wardrobe until a weaver, a cutter of cloth, a seamstress and an armorer
