"MY dear Jane, you know everyone."
"Not quite, Hazel; but one sees everyone in the Savoy."
"Who is that woman at the second table to our right?—the one who spoke so cordially. There is something very familiar about her—I'm sure I've seen her before."
"You probably have. Don't you remember Kitty Krause?"
"O-oh, yes; now I recall her. But she went with an older crowd."
"Yes, she's a full generation ahead of us; but Kitty'd like to forget that and have everyone else forget it."
"Let's see—she married Peters, the cotton king, didn't she?"
"Yes, and when he died he left her so many millions she didn't have enough fingers to count 'em on; so the poor woman will never know how rich she is."
"Is that her son with her?"
"Son, my dear! That's her new husband."
"Husband? Why, she's old enough to—"
"Yes, of course; but you see he's a prince, and Kitty always was—er—well, ambitious."
"Yes, I recall now—something of a climber; but she climbed pretty high, even in aristocratic old Baltimore, with those Peters millions."
"But she's an awfully good soul, Hazel. I'm really very fond of her. There isn't anything she wouldn't do for a friend, and underneath that one silly complex of hers is a heart of gold."
"And kind to her mother! If anyone ever says I'm good-hearted, I'll—"
"S-sh, Hazel; she's coming over."
The older woman, followed by her husband, swooped down upon them. "My darling Jane," she cried, "I'm so glad to see you."
"And I'm glad to see you, Kitty. You remember Hazel Strong, don't you?"
"Oh, not of the Strongs of Baltimore! Oh, my dear! I mean I'm just—how perfectly wonder—I must present my husband, Prince Sborov. Alexis, my very, very dearest friends, Lady Greystoke and Miss Strong."
"Lady Tennington now, Kitty," corrected Jane.
"Oh, my dear, how perfectly wonderful! Lady Greystoke and Lady Tennington, Alexis, dear."
"Charmed," murmured the young man. His lips smiled; but the murky light in his deep eyes was appraising, questioning, as they brooded upon the lovely face of Jane, Lady Greystoke.
"Won't you join us?" invited the latter. "Please sit down. You know it's been ages, Kitty, since we had a good visit."
"Oh, how perfectly won—oh, I'd love to—I mean it seems—thank you, Alexis dear—now you sit over there."
"Why, Kitty, it must be a year since I have heard anything of you, except what I have read in the newspapers," said Jane.
"At that, you might be very well informed as to our goings and comings," remarked Sborov, a little ironically.
"Yes, indeed—I mean—we have a whole book filled with newspaper clippings—some of them were horrid."
"But you kept them all," remarked the prince.
"Oh, well," cried Princess Sborov, "I mean—I suppose one must pay for fame and position; but these newspaper people can be so terribly horrid."
"But what have you been doing?" inquired Jane. "Have you been back home again? I'm sure you haven't been in London for a year."
"No, we spent the whole year on the continent. We had a perfectly wonderful time, didn't we, Alexis dear? You see it was last Spring in Paris that we met; and dear, dear Alexis just swept me off my feet. He wouldn't take no for an answer, would you, darling?"
"How could I, my sweet?"
"There, you see, isn't he won—and then we were married, and we've been traveling ever since."
"And now, I suppose, you are going to settle down?" asked Jane.
"Oh, my dear, no. You never could guess what we're planning on now—we are going to Africa!"
"Africa! How interesting," commented Hazel. "Africa! What memories it conjures."
"You have been to Africa, Lady Tennington?" inquired the prince.
"Right in the heart of it—cannibals, lions, elephants—everything."
"Oh, how perfectly wonder—I mean how thrilling—and I know that Jane knows all there is to know about Africa."
"Not quite all, Kitty."
"But enough," interposed Hazel.
"I'm going down myself, shortly," said Jane. "You see," she added, turning to Prince Sborov, "Lord Greystoke spends a great deal of time in Africa. I am planning on joining him there. I have already booked my passage."
"Oh, how perfectly wonderful," exclaimed the princess. "I mean, we can all go together."
"That is a splendid idea, my dear," said the prince, his face brightening.
"It would be lovely," said Jane, "but you see, I am going into the interior, and I am sure that you—"
"Oh, my dear, so are we."
"But, Kitty, you don't know what you're talking about. You wouldn't like it at all. No comforts, no luxuries; dirt, insects, smelly natives, and all kinds of wild beasts."
"Oh, but my dear, we are—I mean, we really are. Shall I tell Lady Greystoke our secret, darling?"
The prince shrugged. "Why not? She could have little more than a passing interest."
"Well, maybe some day she will. We all grow old, you know, my dear."
"It seems incredible to think—" murmured Alexis half to himself.
"What did you say, darling?" interrupted his wife.
"I was just going to say that Lady Greystoke might think the story incredible."
"Now you must tell me," said Jane. "You have my curiosity aroused."
"Yes, indeed, do tell us," urged Hazel.
"Well, my dears, you see it was like this. We have been doing a great deal of flying the past year, and it's perfectly wonderful. We just love it, and so I bought an aeroplane in Paris last week. We flew to London in it; but what I was going to tell you is about our pilot. He is an American, and he has had the most amazing experiences."
"I think he is what you call a rackster in America," said Alexis.
"You mean a gangster, my dear," corrected the princess.
"Or a racketeer," suggested Hazel.
"Whatever he is, I do not like him," said Alexis.
"But, my dear, you have to admit that he is a good pilot. I mean that he is perfectly wonder—and he has been to Africa and had the most frightful experiences.
"The last time he was there, he got track of a witch-doctor who possesses the secret of an amazing formula for renewing youth and inducing longevity. He met a man who knows where the old fellow lives way in the interior; but neither of them had money enough to organize an expedition to go in search of him. He says that this will make people as young as they wish to be and keep them that way forever. Oh, isn't it wonderful?"
"I think the fellow is a scoundrel," said Alexis. "He has induced my wife to finance this expedition; and when he gets us down there in the interior, he will probably slit our throats and steal our jewelry."
"Oh, my darling, I am sure you are quite wrong. Brown is the last word in loyalty."
"He may be all of that, but still I don't see why you want to drag me to Africa—the bugs, the dirt; and I do not like lions."
Jane laughed. "Really, you might spend a year in Africa without seeing a lion; and you will get used to the bugs and the dirt."
Prince Sborov grimaced. "I prefer the Savoy," he said.
"You will go with us, dear, won't you?" insisted Kitty.
"Well," hesitated Jane, "I really don't know. In the first place, I don't know where you are going."
"We are going to fly direct to Nairobi and outfit there; and, my dear, to get any place in Africa, you have to go to Nairobi first."
Jane smiled. "Well, it happens that that is where I intend going anyway. Lord Greystoke is to meet me there."
"Then it's all settled. Oh, isn't it wonderful?"
"You almost make me want to go," said Hazel.
"Well, my dear, we would be delighted to have you," exclaimed Princess Sborov. "You see, I have a six-passenger cabin plane. There are four of us, and the pilot and my maid will make six."
"How about my man?" asked the prince.
"Oh, my dear, you won't need a man in Africa. You will have a little colored boy who will do your washing and cooking and carry your gun. I read about it time and time again in African stories."
"Of course," said Hazel, "it's awfully sweet of you; but I really couldn't go. It's out of the question. Bunny and I are sailing for America Saturday."
"But you'll come with us, Jane dear?"
"Why, I'd like to, Kitty, if I can get ready in time. When do you start?"
"We were planning on going next week; but, of course, I mean—if—"
"Why, yes, I think I can make it all right."
"Then it's settled, my dear. How perfectly won—we'll take off from the Croydon Airdrome next Wednesday."
"I'll cable Lord Greystoke today; and Friday I am giving a farewell dinner for Lord and Lady Tennington, and you and Prince Sborov must be there."
THE Lord of the Jungle rose from a crude, leaf-covered platform constructed in the crotch of two branches of a mighty patriarch of the jungle. He stretched luxuriously. The slanting rays of the morning sun mottled his bronze body through the leafy canopy that stretched interminably above him.
Little Nkima stirred and awoke. With a scream, he leaped to the shoulder of the ape-man and encircled his neck with his hairy arms.
"Sheeta!" screamed the monkey. "He was about to spring on little Nkima."
The ape-man smiled. "Nkima has been seeing things in his sleep," he said.
The monkey looked about him among the branches of the trees and down at the ground below. Then, seeing that no danger threatened, he commenced to dance and chatter; but presently the ape-man silenced him and listened.
"Sheeta comes," he said. "He is coming up wind toward us. We cannot smell him but if Manu had the ears of Tarzan, he could hear him."
The monkey cocked an ear down wind and listened. "Little Nkima hears him," he said. "He comes slowly." Presently the sinuous, tawny body of the panther forced its way through the brush and came into view below them.
"Sheeta is not hunting," said Tarzan. "He has fed and he is not hungry." And thus reassured, Nkima commenced to hurl invectives at the savage beast below them. The great cat paused and looked up, and when he saw Tarzan and Nkima he bared his fangs in an angry snarl. But he started on again, for he had no business with them.
Feeling secure in the protection of Tarzan, little Nkima waxed belligerent, as he always did under similar circumstances when the possibility of danger seemed remote. He hurled at his hereditary enemy every jungle epithet that he could put his tongue to, but as these seemed to make no impression upon Sheeta he leaped from Tarzan's shoulder to a trailing vine that bore a soft, ill-smelling fruit, and gathering one of these he hurled it at the panther.
By accident, his aim proved true; and the missile struck Sheeta on the back of the head.
With an angry snarl, the beast wheeled about and started toward the tree that harbored his annoyer. Screaming with terror, little Nkima fled upwards to the safety of the smaller branches that would not bear the weight of the great cat.
The ape-man grinned up after the fleeing monkey and then glanced down at the angry panther. A low, growling "Kreeg-ah" rumbled from his throat, and the other beast below returned an answering growl. Then it turned and slunk away into the jungle, rumbling in its throat.
The ape-man was returning leisurely from an excursion into a remote district of the great forest, far from his own haunts.
He had heard strange rumors, and he had gone to investigate them. From deep in the interior, on the borders of a tractless waste that few men had entered and from which some had never returned alive, had come a strange and mysterious story since so long before the memory of living man that the facts had become interwoven with the legends and the folklore of the tribes inhabiting this borderland to such an extent that they had come to be accepted as something inevitable and inescapable; but recently the disappearance of young girls had increased to an alarming extent and had occurred in tribes far removed from the mysterious country.
But when Tarzan investigated and sought to solve the mystery, he was balked by the fear and superstition of the natives. So fearful were they of the malign, mysterious power that snatched their young girls from them, that they would give Tarzan no information or assist him in any way to aid them; and so, disgusted, he had left them to their fate.
After all, why should the ape-man concern himself? Life to the jungle-bred is a commodity of little value. It is given and taken casually as a matter of course. One loves or kills as naturally as one sleeps or dreams. Yet the mystery of the thing intrigued him.
Young girls, always between the ages of fourteen and twenty, vanished as in thin air. No trace of them ever was seen again. Their fate remained an unsolved mystery.
But by now Tarzan had relegated the matter to the background of his thoughts, for his active mind could not long concern itself with a problem that did not closely concern him and which at any event seemed impossible of solution.
He swung easily through the trees, his alert senses conscious of all that transpired within their range. Since Sheeta had passed up wind, he had known by the decreasing volume of the great cat's spoor that the distance between them was constantly increasing—proof that Sheeta was not stalking him. From far away, muted by the distance, sounded the roar of Numa, the lion; and deeper in the forest Tantor, the elephant, trumpeted.
The morning air, the sounds and smells of his beloved jungle, filled the ape-man with exhilaration. Had he been the creature of another environment, he might have whistled or sung or whooped aloud like a cowboy in sheer exuberance of spirit; but the jungle-bred are not thus. They veil their emotions; and they move noiselessly always, for thus do they extend the span of their precarious lives.
Scampering sometimes at his side, sometimes far above him, little Nkima traveled many times the distance of his master, wasting much energy; as, safe in the protection of his benefactor, he insulted all living things that came his way.
But presently he saw his master stop and sniff the air and listen, and then little Nkima dropped silently to a great bronzed shoulder.
"Men," said Tarzan.
The little monkey sniffed the air. "Nkima smells nothing," he said.
"Neither does Tarzan," replied the ape-man, "but he hears them. What is wrong with the ears of little Nkima? Are they growing old?"
"Now Nkima hears them. Tarmangani?" he asked.
"No," replied Tarzan, "Tarmangani make different sounds—the squeaking of leather, the rattle of too much equipment. These are Gomangani; they move softly."
"We shall kill them," said Nkima.
The ape-man smiled. "It is well for the peace of the jungle that you have not the strength of Bolgani, the gorilla; but perhaps if you had, you would not be so blood-thirsty."
"Ugh, Bolgani," sneered Nkima, contemptuously. "He hides in the thickets and runs away at the first sound that he hears."
The ape-man changed his direction to the right and made a great circle through the trees until presently he reached a point where Usha, the wind, could carry the scent spoor of the strangers to him.
"Gomangani," he said.
"Many Gomangani," exclaimed Nkima, excitedly. "They are as the leaves upon the trees. Let us go away. They will kill little Nkima and eat him."
"There are not so many," replied Tarzan, "no more than the fingers upon my two hands, a hunting party, perhaps. We will go closer."
Moving up on the blacks from behind, the ape-man rapidly closed up the distance between them. The scent spoor grew stronger in his nostrils.
"They are friends," he said. "They are Waziri."
The two jungle creatures moved on in silence then, until they overhauled a file of black warriors who moved silently along the jungle trail. Then Tarzan spoke to them in their own tongue.
"Muviro," he said, "what brings my children so far from their own country?"
The blacks halted and wheeled about, gazing up into the trees from which the voice had seemed to come. They saw nothing, but they knew the voice.
"Oh, Bwana, it is well that you have come," said Muviro. "Your children need you."
Tarzan dropped to the trail among them. "Has harm befallen any of my people?" he asked, as the blacks clustered about him.
"Buira, my daughter, has disappeared," said Muviro. "She went alone toward the river, and that is the last that was ever seen of her."
"Perhaps Gimla, the crocodile—" Tarzan commenced to suggest.
"No, it was not Gimla. There were other women at the river. Buira never reached the river. We have heard stories, Bwana, that fill us with terror for our girls. There is evil, there is mystery in it, Bwana. We have heard of the Kavuru. Perhaps it is they; we go to search for them."
"Their country lies far away," said Tarzan. "I have just come from a place that is supposed to be near it, but the people there are all cowards. They were afraid to tell me where I might find the Kavuru, even though their girls have been stolen by these people for so long that no man can remember when it began."
"Muviro will find them," said the black, doggedly. "Buira was a good daughter. She was not as other girls. I will find those who stole her, and kill them."
"And Tarzan of the Apes will help you," said the ape-man. "Have you found the trail of the thieves?"
"There is no trail," replied Muviro. "That is why we know it was the Kavuru; they leave no trail."
"Many of us think that they are demons," said another warrior.
"Men or demons, I shall find them and kill them," replied Muviro.
"From all that I could learn," said Tarzan, "these Bukena live nearest to the Kavuru. They have lost the most girls. That is the reason it is thought that they live nearest to the Kavuru, but they would not help me. They were afraid. However, we will go first to the kraals of the Bukena. I can travel faster; so I will go ahead. In four marches, perhaps three if nothing detains you, you should be there. In the meantime, it may be that Tarzan will have learned more."
"Now that the big Bwana is with me, my mind is happy again," said Muviro, "for I know that Buira will be found and returned to me, and that those who took her will be punished."
Tarzan glanced up at the skies and sniffed the air. "A bad storm is coming, Muviro," he said. "It is coming from where Kudu, the sun, beds down at night; you will have to trek directly into it, and it will hold you back."
"But it will not stop us, Bwana."
"No," replied Tarzan. "It takes more than Usha, the wind, and Ara, the lightning, to stop the Waziri.
"Already Usha is drawing his veil of clouds across the face of Kudu, hiding him from his people."
Torn and ragged clouds scudded across the sky; and in the distance, far to the West, thunder reverberated. The ape-man remained with his head thrown back, watching the impressive spectacle of the gathering storm.
"It will be a bad storm," he said, musingly. "See how frightened the clouds are. Like a great herd of buffaloes, they stampede in terror, fearful of the roars of the thunder god that pursues them."
The wind now was whipping the topmost branches of the trees. The thunder grew nearer and increased in violence. As the clouds sank thicker across the sky, gloomy darkness settled upon the jungle. Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed terrifically, and then the rain fell. It came in solid sheets, bending the trees beneath its weight; and over all Usha screamed like a lost soul.
The eleven men squatted with shoulders hunched against the beating rain, waiting for the first fury of the storm to spend itself.
For half an hour they sat there, and still the storm raged unabated. Suddenly the ape-man cocked an attentive ear upward, and a moment later several of the blacks raised their eyes to the heavens.
"What is it, Bwana?" asked one, fearfully. "What is it in the sky that moans and whines?"
"It sounds very much like an aeroplane," replied Tarzan, "but what an aeroplane would be doing here, I cannot understand."
PRINCE ALEXIS poked his head into the pilot's compartment. His face, overcast with a greenish pallor, reflected apprehension, if not actual fright. "Are we in any danger, Brown?" he shouted above the roar of the exhaust and the blast of the propeller. "Do you think you can get us out of here?"
"For God's sake, shut up," snapped the pilot. "Ain't I got troubles enough without you asking fool questions every five minutes?"
The man in the seat beside the pilot looked horrified. "S-s-sh," he cautioned. "You shouldn't speak to his 'ighness like that, my man. It's most disrespectful."
"Nuts," snapped Brown.
The prince staggered back to his seat in the cabin. He almost succeeded in registering offended dignity when a current of air tossed the ship at the moment and threw him off his balance, so that it was a very angry prince who lurched awkwardly into his seat.
"Fasten your safety belt, darling," admonished his princess. "We are apt to turn over at any minute. I mean, really, did you ever see anything so terribly rough? Oh, I wish we had never come."
"So do I," growled Alexis. "I didn't want to come in the first place; and if I ever get my feet on the ground again, the first thing I am going to do is fire that impudent boor."
"I think, under the circumstances," said Jane, "that we really ought to overlook any idiosyncrasy of manner that he may manifest. He's got all the responsibility. He must be under a terrific nervous strain; and, regardless of everything else, I think you will have to admit that so far he has proved himself a splendid pilot."
"Annette, my smelling salts, please," cried Princess Sborov, in a weak voice; "I am sure I'm going to faint. I certainly am."
"Sapristi, what a trip!" exclaimed Sborov. "If it were not for you, dear lady, I should go crazy. You seem to be the only one in the party with any poise. Are you not afraid?"
"Yes, of course I am afraid. We have been flying around in this storm for what seems an eternity, but getting excited about it won't do us any good."
"But how can you help being excited? How could anyone help being excited?"
"Look at Tibbs," said Jane. "He's not excited. He's as cool as a cucumber."
"Bah!" exclaimed Sborov. "Tibbs is not human. I do not like these English valets—no heart, no feeling."
"Really, my dear," expostulated the princess, "I think he is perfect—a regular gentleman's gentleman."
A vivid flash of lightning shot the dark clouds that enveloped them. Thunder roared and crashed. The ship lurched drunkenly onto one wing and nosed suddenly down. Annette screamed; the Princess Sborov swooned. The plane spun once before Brown could pull her out of it. He righted her with an effort.
"Wh-ew!" he exclaimed.
"My word," said Tibbs.
Princess Sborov was slumped in her chair. Her smelling salts had fallen to the floor. Her hat was over one eye; her hair disheveled. Alexis made no move to come to her aid.
"You had better look after the princess, Annette," said Jane. "I think she needs attention."
There was no answer. Jane turned to see why the girl had not responded. Annette had fainted.
Jane shook her head. "Tibbs," she called. "Come back here and look after the princess and Annette. I'm coming up to sit with Brown."
Gingerly Tibbs made his way into the cabin, and Jane took the seat beside the pilot.
"That last was a bad one," she said. "I really thought we were through. You handled the ship marvelously, Brown."
"Thanks," he said. "It would be easier if they were all like you. The rest of them get in my hair. Although," he added, "Tibbs ain't so bad. I guess he's too dumb to be scared."
"You are having real trouble with the ship, aren't you, Brown?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "I didn't want to tell the others. They'd have gone nutty. We've got too much of a load. I told the old lady so before we took off; but she was set on bringing everything but the kitchen sink, and now I can't get no elevation. That's the reason I can't get up above this storm, just wallowing around here in this muck without any idea where we are or which way we're going; and there's mountains in Africa, Miss, some damned high mountains."
"Yes, I know that," replied Jane. "But you must have some idea where we are; you have a compass, and you know your air speed."
"Yes," he said, "I got a compass; and I know my air speed; but there's another thing that the rest of 'em better not know. The compass has gone haywire."
"You mean?"
"I mean we're just flying blind in this pea soup without a compass."
"Not so good; is it, Brown?"
"I'll say it's not."
"What are we going to do about it?"
"If we could get at the baggage compartment, we could throw all the junk out," he replied, "but we can't, and there you are."
"And in the meantime we may crash into a mountain at any moment, is that it?"
"Yes, Miss," he replied, "or run out of gas and have to come down, which will probably be just as bad as hitting a mountain."
"There's no other way out?" she asked. Her voice was level, her eyes unafraid.
"Well, I've got a little plan I'd like to work," he said, and turned to her with a grin.
"What is it, Brown?"
"Well, we can't get at the junk to throw it overboard; but the prince must weigh about a hundred and fifty pounds. That would help some."
Jane turned her head away to hide a smile, but evidently he saw it.
"I thought you'd like the idea," he said.
"We shouldn't joke about such a thing, Brown," she reprimanded.
"I guess we can't help it," he said. "We both got that American sense of humor."
"Is the petrol—gas really very low, Brown?" she asked.
"Look," he indicated the gauge on the dash. "We're good for about an hour at the outside."
"And no parachutes."
"Nary a chute. Most people don't bother with them on a cabin job."
She shook her head. "It does look bad, doesn't it? But we'd better not tell the others how really bad it is. There is nothing they can do to help themselves."
"Not a thing," he said, with a wry smile, "unless they want to pray."
"I think they've been doing that already."
"What are you going to do—just cruise around until the gas is gone?"
"No, of course not. If I don't find a hole in this mess in half an hour, I'm going to nose down easy and try to get under it. There'll be nothing to it, if we ain't over mountains. That's all I'm afraid of. Then I may find a place where I can get her down, but I'm hoping for a hole. I'd like to look down first."
"Jane! Jane!" It was a plaintive wail from the cabin. "Oh, my dear, where are we? I mean are we all dead?"
Jane looked back. Tibbs had recovered the lost smelling salts and had successfully applied first-aid to the princess. Annette had come to and was sobbing hysterically. The prince sat tense and ashen-faced, beads of perspiration standing upon his forehead. He was quite evidently in a blue funk. He caught Jane's eye.
"Is there any hope?" he asked. "Has Brown said anything?"
"We'll be all right if he can find an opening in the clouds," she replied. "That is what he is looking for."
"If we'd had a decent pilot, we'd never have gotten into this," grumbled the prince. "As I told you, Kitty, you should have hired a good French pilot. These Americans don't know anything about flying; and into the bargain you don't know anything about this fellow, Brown."
"I guess that guy never heard of the Wright Brothers or Lindbergh," grumbled Brown.
"Don't mind what he says," said Jane. "We are all under a terrific nervous strain, and not exactly accountable for what we say or do."
"It doesn't seem to be bothering you much, Miss," said Brown.
"Well, it's just the way we happen to be," she said, "and we can't help that either. Just because I succeed in hiding it, doesn't mean that I am not frightened to death."
"You're sure a good sport," said Brown. "You've got guts, and so I don't mind telling you that I don't feel like no little school girl going to her first picnic. I can think of lots of things I'd rather do than crash in the middle of Africa."
"What did he say?" demanded Sborov. "We are going to crash? Look what you have gotten me into, you old fool," he cried, angrily, turning upon his wife, "you and your rejuvenation and your perpetual youth. Sapristi! You've had your face lifted so many times now that you could be arrested for indecent exposure."
The Princess Sborov gasped. "Why, Alexis!" she exclaimed. Then she burst into tears.
"Oh, why did I ever come?" wailed Annette. "I did not wish to come. I am afraid. I do not want to die. Oh, mon Dieu, save me! Save me!"
"Here, madam, try the smelling salts again," said Tibbs.
"Nice party," remarked Brown. "Perhaps they think I'm enjoying it."
"In great danger, we think mostly of ourselves," said Jane.
"I suppose so. I'm thinking mostly of myself right now; but I'm thinking of you and Annette and Tibbs, too. You're worth saving. As far as the other two are concerned, I'd like to chuck 'em overboard; but I think I read somewhere that there was a law against that."
"Yes, I believe there is," smiled Jane. "But, really, Brown, do you know I have an idea that you are going to get us out of this all right?"
"That's the first encouragement I've had," he replied. "And I'm sure going to try to get us out of this. It all depends upon what's underneath this mess. If there's any ceiling at all, we'll have a chance; and that's what I'm hoping for."
"I'm praying for it."
"I'm going to start down now, Miss. I'll just ease her down slowly."
"At a hundred and fifty miles an hour."
"Well, we won't lose elevation that fast."
The ship struck a down current and dropped a hundred feet, careening wildly. The screams of the Princess Sborov and Annette, the maid, mingled with the curses of Alexis.
Jane gasped. "Well, we went down pretty fast that time," she said.
"But when she drops like that, you can be sure you're not on the ground, anyway. The air has to have some place to go. It can't get through the earth; so they never carry you all the way down."
For tense minutes the two sat in silence. Then suddenly Jane voiced a quick exclamation. "Look, Brown," she cried, "trees! We're below it."
"Yes," he said, "and with five hundred feet to spare but—"
She looked at him questioningly. "We're not much better off, are we? How much gas have you left?"
"Oh, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, and I don't need to tell you—well, it doesn't look so hot."
"Nothing but forest," she said; "there's not a place to land anywhere."
"We may find an opening, and believe me it won't have to be a Croydon either."
"And if you don't find an opening?"
He shrugged. "We'll just have to set down in the tree tops," he said. "The chances are pretty fair that we won't all be killed, Miss." He turned and looked back in the cabin. "Tibbs, get into a seat and fasten your safety belt. Put your wraps and pillows in front of your faces. I am going to make a forced landing in a few minutes. I will tell you when. If you pad your faces, you may not get hurt at all."
Nobody made any reply. The princess moaned, and Annette sobbed.
"There's a terrific wind, isn't there?" said Jane. "Look at those tree tops bend."
"Yes," he said, "and in a way that may help us. The wind will cut down our ground speed a lot; and if I can hook the tail skid into those trees, we may land on them easy-like and hang there."
"You know those tree tops may be a couple of hundred feet from the ground, or even more?"
"Yes," he said, "I suppose they may, but I don't think we'll go through them; they look too dense. And if I set her down easy, the wings and fuselage will catch and hold her. I think we've got a chance."
The ship skimmed on a few hundred feet above the swaying forest top for several minutes. There was no sign of a clearing—no break in those wildly tossing waves of green.
"We're out of gas now, Miss," said Brown, and mechanically he cut the switch. Then he turned back once more to the cabin. "Hold everything," he said; "I'm going to bring her down."
THE ship settled toward the madly tossing sea of green foliage below. Blinding rain drove in sheets against the windows of the cabin. Vivid lightning shot the gloom beneath the dark, glowering clouds. Thunder crashed. Straight into the teeth of the gale, Brown nosed down. The force of the wind held the ship until it seemed to hover above the tree tops as the pilot leveled off just above them; and as the ship settled, he brought the tail down sharply. There was a crash of splintering wood, the ripping of torn fabric as the ship nosed down into the swaying, slashing branches. And above the noise of the storm and the crashing of the ship were the screams and curses of the terrified passengers in the cabin.
But at last it was over. With a final ripping, tearing jolt, the ship came to rest.
Then, for a tense and terrible moment, silence.
Brown turned to the girl at his side. "Are you hurt, Miss?" he asked.
"I don't think so," she said; "just dazed. It was terrible, wasn't it?"
He turned then and glanced back into the cabin. The four passengers were hanging in their safety belts in various stages of collapse. "All right back there?" he demanded. "How about you, Annette?" There was a note of greater concern in Brown's voice.
"Oh, mon Dieu!" moaned the French girl. "I am already dead."
The Princess Sborov groaned. "Oh, how horrible! Why doesn't someone do something for me? Why doesn't someone help me? Annette! Alexis! Where are you? I am dying. Where are my smelling salts?"
"It would serve you right," growled Alexis, "dragging me off on a crazy adventure like this. It's a wonder we weren't all killed. If we'd had a French pilot, this would never have happened."
"Don't be so stupid," snapped Jane. "Brown handled the ship magnificently."
Alexis turned upon Tibbs. "Why don't you do something, you idiot? You English and Americans are all alike—stupid, dumb. I wanted a French valet in the first place."
"Yes, sir," said Tibbs. "I am very sorry that you didn't get one, sir."
"Well, shut up and do something."
"What shall I do, sir?"
"Sapristi! How should I know? But do something."
"I am sorry, sir, but I am not a mountain goat nor a monkey. If I unfasten this seat belt, I shall simply land on your head, sir."
"Wait a minute," called Jane. "I'll see what can be done." And she unfastened her belt and climbed up into the cabin.
The ship had come to rest at an angle of about 45 degrees with the nose down, but Jane easily made her way into the cabin; and Brown followed close behind her. She went first to the Princess Sborov.
"Are you really seriously hurt, Kitty?" she asked.
"I am torn in two; I know that all my ribs are broken."
"You got us into this, Brown," snapped Alexis. "Now get us out of it."
"Listen," said the American, "you may be better off in than out, for when we get on the ground I ain't pilot no more. I ain't responsible then, and I won't be taking any of your lip."
"Did you hear that, Kitty?" demanded Alexis. "Would you sit there and let a servant talk to me like that? If you don't discharge him, I will."
Brown snorted "Don't make me laugh. You didn't hire me, you little runt; and you ain't going to fire me."
"Don't be impudent, my man," cried Alexis, his voice trembling. "You forget who I am."
"No, I don't forget who you are; you ain't nothing. In the country you come from, half the cab drivers are princes."
"Come, come," snapped Jane. "Stop bickering. We must find out if anyone is really injured."
"Get me out of here," wailed Princess Sborov. "I can't stand it any longer."
"It would be foolish to try to get out now," said Jane. "Just look at that storm. We shall be safer and much more comfortable here in the ship while the storm lasts."
"Oh, we'll never get down from here. We are way up in the tops of the trees," wailed Annette.
"Don't worry none, sister," said Brown, reassuringly. "We'll find a way to get down from here when the storm lets up. The ship's lodged tight; she won't fall no farther; so we might as well sit tight like Lady Greystoke says and wait for it to quit raining and blowing."
Tibbs strained his eyes upwards through the window at his side. "It doesn't seem to be clearing any, if I may say so," he remarked.
"These equatorial storms oftentimes end as suddenly as they commence," said Jane. "It may be all over, and the sun out, within half an hour. I've seen it happen a hundred times."
"Oh, it won't ever stop raining; I know it won't," wailed the princess, "and I don't see how we are ever going to get down from here if it does. This is terrible. I mean I wish I'd never come."
"Crying about it now, Kitty, won't do any good," said Jane. "The thing to do is try to make ourselves comfortable and then make the best of it until the storm lets up and we can get down. Here, Brown, get a couple of those seat cushions and put them down here on the floor in front of the princess' chair. Then we'll unfasten her seat belt and she can turn around and sit on the floor with her back against the pilot's compartment."
"Let me help, milady," said Tibbs, as he unfastened his belt and slid forward.
"The rest of you had better do the same thing," said Brown. "Unfasten your belts and sit on the floor with your backs against the seat in front of you."
With some difficulty and much sobbing on her part, the Princess Sborov was finally arranged in a more comfortable position; and the others, following Brown's suggestion, disposed themselves as best they could for the wait, long or short, until the storm should subside.
Tarzan and the Waziri hunched in what meager protection they could find until the storm should abate; for, in its fury, it was a force against which it were foolish for man to pit himself unless the need were great.
For awhile Tarzan had heard the roar of the ship's motor, even above the storm. It had been evident to him that the ship was circling, and then gradually the sound had diminished and quickly faded into nothingness.
"Bwana," said Muviro, "were there men up there above the storm?"
"Yes, at least one," replied the ape-man, "above it or in it. In either event, I should not care to be in his place. The forest stretches many marches in all directions. If he were looking for a place to land, I do not know where he would find it."
"It is well to be on the ground," said Muviro. "I do not think that the gods intended that men should fly like birds. If they had, they would have given them wings."
Little Nkima cuddled close to his master. He was drenched and cold and miserable. The world looked very black to Nkima, and there was no future. He was quite sure that it would always be dark, but he was not resigned to his fate. He was merely too crushed and unhappy to complain. But presently it commenced to get lighter. The wind passed on with a last, dismal wail. The sun burst forth, and the crushed jungle arose once more to its full life.
The ape-man arose and shook himself, like a great lion. "I shall start now for Ukena," he said, "and talk with the Bukena. This time, perhaps, they will tell me where the Kavuru dwell."
"There are ways of making them talk," said Muviro.
"Yes," said Tarzan, "there are ways."
"And we will follow on to Ukena," said Muviro.
"If you do not find me there, you will know that I am searching for the Kavuru and Buira. If I need you, I will send Nkima back to guide you to me."
Without further words, without useless good-byes and God-speeds, Tarzan swung into the dripping trees and disappeared toward the West.
Strange stories had come from the Bukena, and filtered by word of mouth through a hundred tribes to Uziri, the land of the Waziri. They were tales of the Kavuru, tales of a savage, mysterious people, whom no man saw, or seeing, lived to tell. They were demons with horns and tails. Or again, they were a race of men without heads. But the most common report was that they were a race of savage whites, who had reverted to barbarism and went naked in their hidden fastness. One story had it that they were all women, and another that they were all men. But Tarzan knew the distortion that was the fruit of many tongues, and gave little heed to things he heard; only the things that he had seen with his own eyes was he sure of.
He knew that many tribes stole women, but oftentimes these women were seen again. Yet the women that the Kavuru stole were not, and so he was willing to admit that there was some tribe dwelling in a remote fastness that specialized in the stealing of young girls. But many of the other stories he heard, he did not believe.
For instance, there was the fable of the longevity and perpetual youth of the Kavuru. That, Tarzan did not believe, although he knew that there were many strange and unbelievable happenings in the depths of the Dark Continent.
It was a long trek, even for Tarzan, back to the country of the Bukena. The forest was soggy and dripping; the jungle steamed. But of such things and their attendant discomfort, the ape-man took small note. From birth he had become inured to discomfort, for the jungle is not a comfortable place. Cold, heat, danger were as natural to him as warmth and comfort and safety are to you. As you take the one, he took the other, as a matter of course. Even in infancy, he had never whined because he was uncomfortable, nor did he ever complain. If he could better conditions, he did so; if he could not, he ignored them.
Just before dark, Tarzan made a kill; and the fresh meat warmed him and gave him new life, but that night he slept cold and uncomfortable in the dank and soggy forest.
Before dawn he was astir again, eating once more of his kill. Then he swung off swiftly upon his journey, until the good red blood flowed hot through his veins, bringing warmth and a sense of well-being.
But Nkima was miserable. He had wanted to go home, and now he was going back into a strange country that he did not like. He scolded and fretted a great deal; but when the sun came out and warmed him, he felt better; and then he scampered through the trees, looking for whom he might insult.
On the morning of the third day, Tarzan came to the kraal of Udalo, chief of the Bukena.