Chapter 5 Tarzan and the Jungle Murders by Edgar Rice Burroughs
THE SAFARI
How Lieutenant Cecil Giles-Burton survived his aimless wanderings in the jungle was one of those miracles that sometimes happen in Africa. The Dark Continent, cruel to those who did not know her, spared this man. And the section of Fate's thread which bound him indirectly to a talkative maiden in far-off Chicago was not yet moistened with his own blood.
On two occasions Burton met lions. In each case, fortunately, a tree was handy, and he climbed it. One of those lions had been ravenously hungry and was on the hunt. Burton was treed by it for a whole day. He thought he would die of thirst. But at last the lion's patience was snapped by its own hunger, and it went off after less difficult game. The other lion Burton need not have worried about. Its belly was full and it would have paid no attention even to a fat zebra, its favorite food. But Burton, unlike Tarzan, could not tell the difference between a hungry lion and a sated one. Also, like most people ignorant of jungle ways, he held the notion that all lions were man-eaters and went about killing every living creature they could reach.
The getting of food was Burton's chief problem. He lost weight rapidly. He ate many strange things, such as locusts, and came to understand that a hungry man will eat anything.
The days passed swiftly, and he was still searching for Bangali; but he was searching in the wrong direction. His clothes hung in rags. His hair and beard grew long. But his courage remained. Thin as a rail, he was still full of hope as one morning he sat upon a hillside looking down into a little valley. His hearing had sharpened since his sojourn in the jungle, and now, suddenly, he heard sounds coming from the upper end of the valley. He looked—and saw men. Men! Human beings! The first he had seen in days and days! His heart pounded, swelled in his now bony chest.
His first impulse was to jump up and run down to them, crying aloud his joy. Then he restrained himself. Africa had taught him caution. Instead of rushing down, he concealed himself behind a bush and watched. He would look before he leaped.
It was a long file of men. As they came closer, he saw that some of them wore sun-helmets. But the majority of them wore not much of anything. He noted that those who wore the least clothing carried the heaviest burdens. He knew what he was seeing now. It was a safari—a safari of white men and blacks.
Now he no longer hesitated. He rushed down to meet it. The column was headed by a native guide and a group of whites. There were two women among the whites. Behind them trooped the long file of porters and askaris.
"Hello! Hello!" Burton shouted in a cracked voice. Tears came to his eyes and he choked, stumbling toward them with arms outstretched.
The safari halted and awaited his coming. No answering shouts of greeting came to him. He slowed his pace. Something of his habitual English reserve returned to him. He wondered at their lack of enthusiasm.
"How awful," one of the women—no more than a girl—exclaimed at the soiled sight of him. But the exclamation was less in pity than in impolite shock at his scarecrow appearance.
Lieutenant Burton stiffened and his cracked lips twisted in a crooked smile that held a little bitterness. Was this the way a castaway was received by his own kind? Lieutenant Burton, looking at the girl, said quietly:
"I am sorry, Lady Barbara, that in your shock at my dirty rags, you fail to see that a human being is wearing them."
The girl stared at him, aghast. Over her face spread a flush.
"You know me?" she said unbelievingly.
"Quite well. You are Lady Barbara Ramsgate. That gentleman—or am I wrong in using the word?—is your brother, Lord John. The others I do not know."
"He must have heard rumors about our safari," one of the other men interposed. "That's how he knows the names. Well, man, what's your story? I suppose your safari deserted you, and you're lost and hungry, and want to join up with our safari. You're not the first derelict we picked up—"
"Stop it, Gault," John Ramsgate snapped in an angry voice. "Let the man tell his story."
Lieutenant Burton shook his head. He sent a burning glance at each of them in turn.
"As snobbish in Africa as in London," he said softly. "One of your porters, meeting me like this, would not have asked questions, would have given me food and water even if it meant going without it himself."
Gault opened his mouth to make a hot retort, but the girl stopped him. She looked ashamed.
"I'm sorry," she said. "We've all been under a strain and I'm afraid our veneer has cracked a bit to reveal that we're not as nice as we think we are underneath. I'll order food and water for you immediately."
"No hurry now," Burton said. "I'll answer your unspoken questions first. I was flying from London to Capetown, and was forced down. I have been wandering around ever since, trying to find Bangali. You are the first human beings I've seen. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Burton—Lieutenant Cecil Giles-Burton, of the Royal Air Force."
"Impossible!" Lady Barbara exclaimed. "You can't be."
"We know Burton," said Lord John. "You don't look anything like him."
"Blame Africa for that. I think if you look closely enough, you'll recognize your week-end guest at Ramsgate Castle."
And Lord John, looking closer, finally murmured, "Gad, yes," and stretched out his hand. "My apologies, old fellow."
Burton did not take the hand. His shoulders sagged. He was ashamed of these people.
"That hand which you now offer to Lieutenant Burton should have been offered to the derelict stranger," he said quietly. "I'm afraid I can't shake it sincerely."
"He's right," Lord John said to his sister, and she nodded meekly. "We're terribly sorry, Burton. I'd be honored very much if you took my hand, Lieutenant."
So Burton shook his hand, and they all felt better. Lady Barbara introduced him to the man who stood at her side—Duncan Trent. After eating, Burton met the other members of the safari. There was a tall, broad-shouldered man who was called Mr. Romanoff, and it was Romanoff who gave Burton the astounding information that Bangali was fully two hundred miles away. Romanoff imparted this information while being shaved by his valet, Pierre. Evidently this Russian expatriate traveled in style. Burton learned further that this safari was really two safaris.
"We ran into the Romanoff safari two weeks ago, and, since we were both headed in the same direction, for Bangali, we joined forces. The difference is that the Romanoff safari hunts with guns while we hunt only with cameras."
"Silly idea," said Trent, who was evidently interested in Lady Barbara emotionally. "John could have gone to the zoo and taken his silly pictures without all this walking and insect bites."
Burton further learned that Gerald Gault, the man who had spoken so sneeringly to him at first, was Romanoff's guide. There was another Russian in the safari, Sergei Godensky, a professional photographer.
The interest of Burton was drawn to two other white men. These were the other derelicts that had been mentioned. Their names were Smith and Peterson. They had told a story of their native boys deserting them.
"They don't look very gay," Burton said.
"They don't like to do their share of the work, either," John Ramsgate snapped. "Burton, you won't blame us so much for our conduct when you learn more about this rather mixed safari. Romanoff's man, Gault, is domineering and sarcastic. Everybody hates him. Pierre and my valet, Tomlin, are both in love with Violet, Barbara's maid. And I think there's no love lost between Godensky and Romanoff. All told, I wouldn't call it a very happy family."
Coffee and cigarettes followed the dinner. Burton stretched and inhaled deeply.
"To think," he said, "that only this morning I was expecting to starve to death. One never knows what Fate has in store for one."
Unconsciously he patted his shirt over his heart, where the plans for Horace Brown's invention reposed.
"Perhaps it's just as well that we can't look into the future," said Lady Barbara. It was just as well, so far as Burton's peace of mind was concerned.
Days passed. Burton grew very fond of John Ramsgate and especially fond of Barbara. Duncan Trent began to wear a scowl. In Burton he detected a rival.
Then trouble broke out in the safari over the maid, Violet, when Godensky made advances to her which she made clear she did not want. Burton, accidentally coming upon them, knocked Godensky down. Godensky, in a raging fury, drew his knife. Then Lady Barbara came suddenly upon the scene. Godensky put back his knife and walked away sullenly.
"You've made an enemy," cautioned Barbara.
Burton shrugged his shoulders. He had been through so much already that one more enemy didn't matter.
But he had made more than one enemy. Trent came to him and told him in no uncertain terms to keep away from Lady Barbara.
"I think we can leave it to Lady Barbara to select what company she wants to keep," Burton said quietly.
Tomlin, attracted by the conversation, came out of his tent. He saw Trent strike at Burton, saw Burton smash Trent down.
"Get into your tent and cool off," Burton snapped to Trent, and entered his own tent.
The next morning, Ramsgate notified Godensky that he would not need his services after they reached Bangali. Everyone else ignored Godensky, even the two derelicts, Smith and Peterson, and he marched alone all day, nursing his anger. Duncan Trent brought up the rear of the column, glum and brooding.
Everyone seemed out of sorts, and the long trek under the hot, merciless sun did nothing to soothe jangled nerves. The carriers lagged, and Gault spent most of his time running up and down the line cursing and abusing them.
Finally he lost his temper and knocked one of them down. When the man got up, Gault knocked him down again. Burton, who was nearby, interfered.
"Cut it out," he ordered.
"You mind your own damned business. I'm running this safari," retorted Gault.
"I don't care whose safari you're running. You're not going to abuse the men."
Gault swung. Burton blocked the blow, and the next instant Gault was sent sprawling with a smashing left to the jaw.
It was Burton's third fight since he had joined the safari. Three knockdowns—three enemies.
"I'm sorry, Ramsgate," Burton said, later. "I seem to be getting into trouble with everyone."
"You did just right," said Ramsgate approvingly.
"I'm afraid you've made a real enemy there, Cecil," said Lady Barbara. "I understand Gault has a pretty bad reputation."
"One enemy more makes no difference any longer. We'll be in Bangali tomorrow."
They talked for a few minutes longer and then, bidding each other good night, went to their tents.
Burton was happy. He knew that he had never been so happy before in his life. Tomorrow he would see his father. Tomorrow he would fulfill his mission; and he was in love. A serene quiet lay upon the camp, over which a drowsy askari kept watch. From far away came the roar of a hunting lion, and the man threw more wood upon the fire.