Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction; Tarzan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
At a sudden turning of the forest trail she came within sight of them,
but saw, to her dismay, that they were still a long way off. They
would be sure to escape if they saw her, and she was upon the point
of hiding when she realized that already it was too late. One of them
was pointing at her. Loosing a missile from her girdle and grasping
her cudgel more firmly she started toward them at a rapid, lumbering
run. She was both surprised and pleased when she saw that they made no
attempt to escape. How terrified they must be to stand thus docilely
while she approached them. But what was this? They were advancing to
meet her! And now she saw the expressions upon their faces. No fear
there--only rage and menace. What were the strange things they carried
in their hands? One who was running toward her, the nearest, paused and
hurled a long pointed stick at her. It was sharp and when it grazed her
shoulder it brought blood. Another paused and holding a little stick
across a longer stick, the ends of which were bent back with a piece
of gut, suddenly released the smaller stick, which leaped through the
air and pierced the flesh beneath one of her arms. And behind these two
the others were rushing upon her with similar weapons. She recalled the
corpses of women she had seen in the forest and the dearth of men for
the past several moons, and though she was dull of wit yet she was not
without reasoning faculties and so she compared these facts with the
occurrences of the past few seconds with a resultant judgment that sent
her lumbering away, in the direction from which she had come, as fast
as her hairy legs could carry her, nor did she once pause in her mad
flight until she sank exhausted at the mouth of her own cave.
The men did not pursue her. As yet they had not reached that stage
in their emancipation that was to give them sufficient courage and
confidence in themselves to entirely overcome their hereditary fear of
women. To chase one away was sufficient. To pursue her would have been
tempting Providence.
When the other women of the tribe saw their fellow stagger to her cave
and sensed that her condition was the result of terror and the physical
strain of long flight they seized their cudgels and ran forth, prepared
to meet and vanquish her pursuer, which they immediately assumed to be
a lion. But no lion appeared and then some of them wandered to the side
of the woman who lay panting on her threshold.
"From what did you run?" they asked her in their simple sign language.
"Men," she replied.
Disgust showed plainly upon every face, and one of them kicked her and
another spat upon her.
"There were many," she told them, "and they would have killed me with
flying sticks. Look!" and she showed them the spear wound, and the
arrow still embedded in the flesh beneath her arm. "They did not run
from me, but came forward to attack me. Thus have all the women been
killed whose corpses we have seen in the forest during the past few
moons."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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