Uhha had defeated her own ends. Esteban Miranda was not being punished for his sins for the very excellent reason that he was conscious of no sins nor of any existence. Uhha had killed his objective mind. His brain was but a storehouse of memories that would never again be raised above the threshold of consciousness. When acted upon by the proper force they stimulated the nerves that controlled his muscles, with results seemingly identical with those that would have followed had he been able to reason. An emergency beyond his experience would, consequently, have found him helpless, though ignorant of his helplessness. It was almost as though a dead man walked through the jungle. Sometimes he moved along in silence, again he babbled childishly in Spanish, or, perhaps, quoted whole pages of Shakespeare in English.
Could Uhha have seen him now, even she, savage little cannibal, might have felt remorse at the horror of her handiwork, which was rendered even more horrible because its miserable object was totally unconscious of it; but Uhha was not there to see, nor any other mortal; and the poor clay that once had been a man moved on aimlessly through the jungle, killing and eating when the right nerves were excited, sleeping, talking, walking as though he lived as other men live; and thus, watching him from afar, we see him disappear amidst the riotous foliage of a jungle trail.
The Princess Janzara of Veltopismakus did not purchase the slave of Zoanthrohago. Her father, the king, would not permit it, and so, very angry, she walked from the apartment where she had come to examine the captive and when she had passed into the next room and was out of her royal sire’s range of vision, she turned and made a face in his direction, at which all her warriors and the two handmaidens laughed.
“Fool!” she whispered in the direction of her unconscious father. “I shall own the slave yet and kill him, too, if I mind.”
The warriors and the handmaidens nodded their heads approvingly.
King Elkomoelhago arose languidly from his chair. “Take it to the quarries,” he said, indicating Tarzan with a motion of his thumb, “but tell the officer in charge that it is the king’s wish that it be not overworked, nor injured,” and as the ape-man was led away through one doorway, the king quitted the chamber by another, his six courtiers bowing in the strange, Minunian way until he was gone. Then one of them tiptoed quickly to the doorway through which Elkomoelhago had disappeared, flattened himself against the wall beside the door and listened for a moment. Apparently satisfied, he cautiously insinuated his head beyond the doorframe until he could view the chamber adjoining with one eye, then he turned back toward his fellows.
“The old half-wit has gone,” he announced, though in a whisper that would have been inaudible beyond the chamber in which it was breathed, for even in Minuni they have learned that the walls have ears, though they express it differently, saying, instead: Trust not too far the loyalty of even the stones of your chamber.
“Saw you ever a creature endowed with such inordinate vanity!” exclaimed one.
“He believes that he is wiser than, not any man, but all men combined,” said another. “Sometimes I feel that I can abide his arrogance no longer.”
“But you will, Gefasto,” said Gofoloso. “To be Chief of Warriors of Veltopismakus is too rich a berth to be lightly thrown aside.”
“When one might simultaneously throw away one’s life at the same time,” added Torndali, Chief of Quarries.
“But the colossal effrontery of the man!” ejaculated another, Makahago, Chief of Buildings. “He has had no more to do with Zoanthrohago’s success than have I and yet he claims the successes all for himself and blames the failures upon Zoanthrohago.”
“The glory of Veltopismakus is threatened by his egotism,” cried Throwaldo, Chief of Agriculture. “He has chosen us as his advisers, six princes, whose knowledge of their several departments should be greater than that of any other individuals and whose combined knowledge of the needs of Veltopismakus and the affairs of state should form a bulwark against the egregious errors that he is constantly committing; but never will he heed our advice. To offer it he considers a usurpation of his royal prerogatives, to urge it, little short of treason. To question his judgment spells ruin. Of what good are we to Veltopismakus? What must the people of the state think of us?”
“It is well known what they think of us,” snapped Gofoloso. “They say that we were chosen, not for what we know, but for what we do not know. Nor can you blame them. I, a breeder of diadets, master of ten thousand slaves who till the soil and raise a half of all the food that the city consumes, am chosen Chief of Chiefs, filling an office for which I have no liking and no training, while Throwaldo, who scarce knows the top of a vegetable from its roots, is Chief of Agriculture. Makahago worked the quarry slaves for a hundred moons and is made Chief of Buildings, while Torndali, who is acclaimed the greatest builder of our time, is Chief of Quarries. Gefasto and Vestako, alone, are masters of their bureaus. Vestako the king chose wisely as Chief of the Royal Dome, that his royal comfort and security might be assured; but in Gefasto behold his greatest blunder! He elevated a gay young pleasure-seeker to the command of the army of Veltopismakus and discovered in his new Chief of Warriors as great a military genius as Veltopismakus has ever produced.”
Gefasto bowed his acknowledgment of the compliment.
“Had it not been for Gefasto the Trohanadalmakusians would have trapped us fairly the other day,” continued Gofoloso.
“I advised the king against pushing the assault,” interjected Gefasto, “as soon as it became evident that we had failed to surprise them. We should have withdrawn. It was only after we had advanced and I was free
