Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction; Tarzan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
The sun had just risen when Tarzan arrived at the native village in
which he had left La, and no sooner did his eyes rest upon it than he
became apprehensive that something was amiss, for, not only was the gate
wide open but there was no sign of life within the palisade, nor was
there any movement of the swinging huts that would indicate that they
were occupied. Always wary of ambush, Tarzan reconnoitered carefully
before descending into the village. To his trained observation it became
evident that the village had been deserted for at least twenty-four
hours. Running to the hut in which La had been hidden he hastily
ascended the rope and examined the interior—it was vacant, nor was
there any sign of the High Priestess. Descending to the ground, the
ape-man started to make a thorough investigation of the village in
search of clews to the fate of its inhabitants and of La. He had
examined the interiors of several huts when his keen eyes noted a slight
movement of one of the swinging, cage-like habitations some distance
from him. Quickly he crossed the intervening space, and as he approached
the hut he saw that no rope trailed from its doorway. Halting beneath,
Tarzan raised his face to the aperture, through which nothing but the
roof of the hut was visible.
“Gomangani,” he cried, “it is I, Tarzan of the Apes. Come to the opening
and tell me what has become of your fellows and of my mate, whom I left
here under the protection of your warriors.”
There was no answer, and again Tarzan called, for he was positive that
someone was hiding in the hut.
“Come down,” he called again, “or I will come up after you.”
Still there was no reply. A grim smile touched the ape-man’s lips as he
drew his hunting knife from its sheath and placed it between his teeth,
and then, with a cat-like spring, leaped for the opening, and catching
its sides, drew his body up into the interior of the hut.
If he had expected opposition, he met with none, nor in the dimly
lighted interior could he at first distinguish any presence, though,
when his eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness, he descried a
bundle of leaves and grasses lying against the opposite wall of the
structure. Crossing to these he tore them aside revealing the huddled
form of a terrified woman. Seizing her by a shoulder he drew her to a
sitting position.
“What has happened?” he demanded. “Where are the villagers? Where is my
mate?”
“Do not kill me! Do not kill me!” she cried. “It was not I. It was not
my fault.”
“I do not intend to kill you,” replied Tarzan. “Tell me the truth and
you shall be safe.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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