Tarzan and the Ant Men

hand that held his improvised weapon, removed the hand from the ledge and grasped the rod again, still lower down. In this way he lowered his body a few inches at a time. He moved very slowly for two reasons, the more important of which was that he feared that any sudden strains upon his series of hooks might straighten one of them and precipitate him into the abyss below; the other was the necessity for silence. It was very dark even this close to the summit of the dome, but that was rather an advantage than otherwise, for it hid his presence from any chance observer who might glance through one of the embrasures in the opposite wall of the shaft. As he descended he felt in both directions for an embrasure, but he was almost at the end of his ladder before he felt himself swing slightly into one. When he had lowered himself still farther and could look into the opening he saw that it was dark, an indication that it did not lead into an inhabited chamber, a fact for which he was thankful. He hoped, too, that the inner end of the embrasure was not barred, nor the door beyond bolted upon the outside.

He whistled once, very low, for Komodoflorensal, and an instant later he felt the movement of the iron ladder that told him his companion had commenced the descent. The embrasure in which he stood was higher than the one they had just quitted, permitting him to stand erect. There he waited for the Trohanadalmakusian who was soon standing upon the ledge beside him.

“Whew!” exclaimed the prince, in a whisper. “I should hate to have had to do that in the daytime when I could have seen all the way to the bottom. What next? We have come farther already than ever I dreamed would be possible. Now I am commencing to believe that escape may lie within the realm of possibilities.”

“We haven’t started yet,” Tarzan assured him; “but we are going to now. Come!”

Grasping their rude weapons the two walked stealthily the length of the embrasure. There were no bars to impede their progress and they stepped to the floor of the chamber beyond. Very carefully, feeling each step before he planted a foot and with his weapon extended before him, Tarzan groped his way about the chamber, which he found was fairly well filled with casks and bottles, the latter in wooden and wicker cases. Komodoflorensal was directly behind him.

“We are in one of the rooms where the nobles charged with enforcing the laws against wine have hidden confiscated liquor,” whispered the Trohanadalmakusian. “I have heard much talk concerning the matter since I was made prisoner⁠—the warriors and the slaves, too, seem to talk of nothing else but this and the high taxes. The chances are that the door is heavily barred⁠—they guard these forbidden beverages as never they guarded their gold or jewels.”

“I have found the passageway leading to the door,” whispered Tarzan, “and I can see a light beneath it.”

They crept stealthily the length of the passage. Each grasped his weapon more firmly as Tarzan gently tried the latch. It gave! Slowly the ape-man pushed the door ajar. Through the tiny aperture thus opened he could see a portion of the room. Its floor was strewn with gorgeous carpets, thick and soft. That portion of the wall that was revealed to him was hung with heavy fabrics woven in many colors and strange patterns⁠—splendid, barbaric. Directly in the line of his vision the body of a man lay sprawled, face down, upon the floor⁠—a pool of red stained a white rug beneath his head.

Tarzan opened the door a little farther, revealing the bodies of three other men. Two lay upon the floor, the third upon a low divan. The scene, gorgeous in its coloring, tragic in its suggestion of mystery and violent death, held the eyes of the ape-man yet a moment longer before he opened the door still wider and leaped quickly to the center of the room, his weapon raised and ready, giving no possible skulking foe behind the door the opportunity to fell him that would have offered had he edged into the room slowly.

A quick glance about the apartment showed the bodies of six men that had not been visible from the partially opened door. These were lying in a pile in one corner of the room.

XVI

Komodoflorensal stood at Tarzan’s side, his weapon ready to take issue with any who might question their presence here; but presently the end of his iron rod dropped to the floor and a broad smile overspread his features.

Tarzan looked at him. “Who are they?” he demanded, “and why have they been killed?”

“They are not dead, my friend,” replied Komodoflorensal. “They are the nobles whose duty it is to prevent the use of wine. They are not dead⁠—they are drunk.”

“But the blood beneath the head of this one at my feet!” demanded the ape-man.

“It is red wine, not blood,” his companion assured him. Then Tarzan smiled.

“They could not have chosen a better night for their orgy,” he said. “Had they remained sober the door through which we entered from the storeroom would have been securely fastened, I imagine.”

“Assuredly, and we would have had a sober guard of warriors to deal with in this chamber, instead of ten drunken nobles. We are very fortunate, Zuanthrol.”

He had scarcely ceased speaking when a door in the opposite side of the room swung open, revealing two warriors, who stepped immediately into the chamber. They eyed the two who faced them and then glanced about the room at the inert forms of its other occupants.

“What do you here, slaves?” demanded one of the newcomers.

“Sh-sh-sh!” cautioned Tarzan, placing a finger to his lips. “Enter and close the door, lest others hear.”

“There is no one near to hear,” snapped one of them, but they entered and he closed the door. “What