Chapter 6 Tarzan and the Jungle Murders by Edgar Rice Burroughs
THE COMING OF TARZAN
It was just before dawn, and it was very cold. The askari on guard was even more sleepy than the man he had relieved. Because it was cold, he sat very near the fire with his back against a log, and sitting there, he fell asleep. When he awoke, he was so astounded and startled by the sight that met his eyes that he was for the moment incapable of any action. He just sat there, wide-eyed, looking at an almost-naked white man who squatted near him, warming his hands at the fire.
Where had this apparition come from? It had not been there a moment before. The askari thought that perhaps he was dreaming. But, no. The visitor was too real, of such an immense physique. The lips of the stranger parted.
"Whose safari is this?" he asked in the Swahili dialect.
The askari found his voice.
"Who are you? Where did you come from?"
Suddenly his eyes went even wider and his jaw dropped.
"If you are a demon," he said, "I will bring you food, if you will not harm me."
"I am Tarzan," said the stranger. "Whose safari is this?"
"There are two," replied the askari, his eyes filled with awe. "One is the safari of Bwana Romanoff, and the other is the safari of Bwana Ramsgate."
"They are going to Bangali?" asked Tarzan.
"Yes. Tomorrow we shall be in Bangali."
"They are hunting?"
"Bwana Romanoff hunts. Bwana Ramsgate takes pictures."
Tarzan looked at him for a long time before he spoke again, and then he said:
"You should be whipped for falling asleep while on guard."
"But I was not asleep, Tarzan," said the askari. "I only closed my eyes because the light of the fire hurt them."
"The fire was nearly out when I came," said Tarzan. "I put more wood upon it. I have been here a long time and you were asleep. Simba could have come into camp and carried someone away. He is out there now, watching you."
The askari leaped to his feet and cocked his rifle.
"Where? Where is Simba?" he demanded.
"Can't you see his eyes blazing out there?"
"Yes, Tarzan, I see them now." He raised his rifle to his shoulder.
"Do not shoot. You might accidentally hit him only to wound him, and then he would charge. Wait."
Tarzan picked up a stick, one end of which was blazing, and hurled it out into the darkness. The eyes disappeared.
"If he comes back, shoot over his head. That may frighten him away."
The askari became very alert, but he was watching the stranger quite as much as he was watching for the lion. Tarzan warmed himself by the fire. After a while the wind freshened and swung into a new quarter. Tarzan raised his head and sniffed the air.
"Who is the dead man?" he asked.
The askari looked around him quickly, but saw no one. His voice trembled a little as he answered.
"There is no dead man, Bwana," the askari protested.
"There is a dead man over there in that part of camp," said Tarzan, nodding toward the tents of the whites.
"There is no dead man, and I wish that you would go away with your talk of death."
The other did not answer. He just squatted there, warming his hands.
"I must go and awaken the cooks," the askari said, presently. "It is time."
Tarzan said nothing, and the askari went to awaken the cooks. He told them there was a demon in the camp, and when they looked and saw the white man squatting there by the fire, they, too became intensely frightened. They were still more frightened when the askari told them that the demon had said there was a dead man in the camp. They woke up all the other boys, for in numbers there is a greater sense of security. Ramsgate's headman went to his master's tent and awakened him.
"There is a demon in camp, Bwana," he said, "and he says there is a dead man here. There is no dead man in camp, is there, Bwana?"
"Of course not—and there are no demons either. I'll be out in a moment."
Ramsgate dressed hurriedly and came out a few moments later to see the men huddled together fearfully, looking toward the fire, where the almost naked gigantic white man squatted.
Ramsgate walked toward him, and as he approached the other arose, courteously.
"May I inquire," said Ramsgate, "who you are and to what we owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Ramsgate had learned a lesson from Burton on how to treat strangers. The other motioned toward the fire.
"That is the reason for my visit," he said. "It is unusually cold in the forest tonight."
"Who are you, anyway, man, and what are you doing running around naked in the forest at night?"
"I am Tarzan," replied the stranger. "What is your name?"
"Ramsgate. What is the story you have been telling our boys about there being a dead man in the camp?"
"It is true. There is a dead man in one of those tents. He has not been dead very long."
"But how do you know that? What gives you that queer idea?"
"I can smell him," said Tarzan.
Ramsgate shivered, looked around the camp. The boys were still huddled together at a little distance, watching them; but otherwise everything appeared in order. He looked again at the stranger, a little more closely this time, and saw that he was fine-looking and intelligent-appearing. Yet he was certain that the man was crazy, probably one of those human derelicts who are found occasionally even in civilized surroundings, wandering naked in the woods. They are usually called wild-men, but most of them are only harmless halfwits. However, Ramsgate thought, remembering Burton's lesson, the best thing to do would be to humor this man and give him food.
He turned and called to the boys.
"Hurry up with that chuck. We want to get an early start today."
Several of the whites had been aroused by the noise in the camp and were straggling from their tents. Gault was among them. He came over toward the fire, followed by the others.
"What have we here, m'Lord?"
"This poor devil got cold and came in to the fire," said Ramsgate. "It's perfectly all right, he's welcome. Will you see that he gets breakfast, Gault?"
"Yes, sir."
Gault's meekness surprised Ramsgate.
"And say, Gault, will you have the boys awaken the others? I'd like to get an early start this morning."
Gault turned toward the boys and called out some instructions in Swahili. Several of the boys detached themselves and went to the tents of their masters to awaken them. Tarzan had resumed his place by the fire, and Ramsgate had gone to talk with the askari who had been on guard. He had just started to question the man, when he was interrupted by a shout from the direction of the tents of the whites and saw Burton's boy running excitedly toward him.
"Come quick, Bwana," shouted the boy. "Come quick!"
"What is it? What's the matter?" demanded Ramsgate.
"I go in tent. I find Bwana Burton lie on floor, dead!"
Ramsgate dashed for Burton's tent, with Tarzan close at his elbow. Gault was directly behind them. Burton's body, clad only in pajamas, lay face down upon the floor. A chair had been upset and there were other evidences of a fierce struggle. While the three men were busily examining the body, Romanoff and Trent entered the tent.
"This is terrible," Romanoff exclaimed, shuddering. "Who could have done it?"
Trent said nothing. He just stood there, staring down at the body. Burton had been stabbed in the back, the knife entering under the left shoulder blade from below and piercing the heart. There were black and blue marks on his throat, showing that the murderer had choked him to prevent him from making any outcry.
"Whoever did this must have been a very strong man," said Romanoff. "Lieutenant Burton was himself very powerful."
Amazed, then, they saw the white stranger take command of the situation. Tarzan lifted the body to the cot and covered it with a blanket. Then he bent low and examined the marks on Burton's throat. He went out and they followed him, mystified and frightened. As they left the tent, before which practically the entire safari had congregated, Ramsgate saw his sister coming toward them from her tent.
"What's the matter?" she asked, "What has happened?"
Ramsgate stepped to her side.
"Something pretty terrible has happened, Babs," he said, avoiding her questioning glance. Then he led her back to her tent and told her.
Gault gruffly ordered the men back to their duties, summoned all the askaris who had been on guard during the night and questioned them. The other whites were gathered around them, but only Tarzan understood the questions and the answers, which were in Swahili. There had been four askaris on duty during the night, and all insisted that they had seen or heard nothing unusual, with the exception of the last one, who reported that the strange white man had entered the camp just before dawn to warm himself at the fire.
"Did you see him all the time he was in camp?" demanded Gault. The man hesitated.
"The fire hurt my eyes, Bwana, and I closed them. But only for a moment. All the rest of the time I saw him squatting by the fire, warming himself."
"You are lying," said Gault. "You were asleep."
"Perhaps I slept a little, Bwana."
"Then this man might have had time to go to the tent and murder Bwana Burton?" Gault spoke plainly because he did not know that Tarzan understood Swahili.
"Yes, Bwana," replied the black. "He might have. I do not know. But he knew there was a dead man there before anyone else knew it."
"How do you know that?"
"He told me so, Bwana."
"The man was dead before I came into camp," said Tarzan calmly. Gault was startled.
"You understand Swahili?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Nobody knows how long you were in camp. You—"
"What's all this about?" interrupted Romanoff. "I can't understand a word. Wait, here comes Lord John. He should carry on this investigation. Lieutenant Burton was his countryman."
Ramsgate and Romanoff listened intently while Gault repeated what the askari had told him. Tarzan stood leaning upon his spear, his face impassive. When Gault had finished, Ramsgate shook his head.
"I see no reason to suspect this man," he said. "What motive could he have had? It certainly wasn't robbery, for Burton had nothing of value. And it couldn't have been revenge, for they didn't even know each other."
"Perhaps he's batty," suggested Smith. "Nobody but a nut would run around naked in the woods. And you can't never tell what nuts will do."
Trent nodded. "Dementia praecox," he said, "with homicidal mania."
Lady Barbara, dry-eyed and composed, came and stood beside her brother. Violet was with her, red-eyed and sniffling.
"Have you learned anything new?" Lady Barbara asked her brother.
Ramsgate shook his head.
"Gault thinks this man might have done it."
Lady Barbara looked up.
"Who is he?" she asked.
"He says his name is Tarzan. He came into camp sometime during the night. Nobody seems to know when. But I don't see any reason to suspect him. He could not possibly have had any motive."
"There are several here who might have had a motive," said Lady Barbara bitterly. She looked straight at Trent.
"Barbara!" Trent exclaimed.
"You don't think for a moment that I did this?"
"He was ready to kill him once, m'Lord," said Tomlin to Ramsgate. "I was there, sir. I saw Burton knock him down. They were quarreling about her Ladyship."
Trent looked uncomfortable.
"It's preposterous," he protested. "I'll admit I lost my temper, but after I cooled off I was sorry."
Violet pointed an accusing finger at Godensky.
"He tried to kill him, too! He said he'd kill him. I heard him."
"As far as that goes, Gault, here, threatened to get him, too," said Romanoff. "They didn't all kill him. I think the thing for us to do is present ourselves to the authorities at Bangali, and let them thrash the matter out."
"That's all right with me," said Gault. "I didn't kill him, and I don't know that this fellow did. But it's certainly mighty funny that he was the only one in camp to know that Lieutenant Burton was dead."
"There was another who knew," said Tarzan.
"Who was that?" demanded Gault.
"The man who killed him."
"I'd still like to know how you knew he was dead," said Gault.
"So should I," said Ramsgate. "I must say that that looks a little suspicious."
"It's quite simple," said Tarzan, "but I'm afraid none of you would understand. I am Tarzan of the Apes. I have lived here nearly all my life under precisely the same conditions as the other animals. Animals are dependent upon certain senses much more than are civilized man. The hearing of some of them is exceptionally keen. The eyesight of others is remarkable. But the best developed of all is the sense of smell.
"Without at least one of these senses highly developed, one couldn't survive for long. Man, being naturally among the most helpless of animals, I was compelled to develop them all. Death has its own peculiar odor. It is noticeable almost immediately after life has ceased. While I was warming myself at the fire and talking to the askari, the wind freshened and changed. It brought to my nostrils the evidence that a dead man lay a short distance away, probably in one of the tents."
"Nuts," said Smith disgustedly.
Godensky laughed nervously. "He must think we're crazy, too, to believe a story like that."
"I think we've got our man all right," said Trent. "A maniac doesn't have to have a motive for killing."
"Mr. Trent's right," agreed Gault. "We'd better tie him up and take him along to Bangali with us."
None of these men knew Tarzan. None of them could interpret the strange look that came suddenly into his gray eyes. As Gault moved toward him, Tarzan backed away.
Then Trent drew his pistol and covered him.
"Make a false move and I'll kill you," Trent said.
Trent's intentions may have been of the best, but his technique was faulty. He was guilty, among others, of two cardinal errors. He was too close to Tarzan, and he did not shoot the instant that he drew his gun. Tarzan's hand shot out and seized his wrist. Trent pulled the trigger, but the bullet plowed harmlessly into the ground. Then he cried out in anguish and dropped the weapon when the ape-man applied more pressure.
It was all done very quickly, and then Tarzan was backing away from them holding Trent as a shield in front of him. They dared not shoot for fear of hitting Trent. Gault and Ramsgate started forward. Tarzan, holding the man with one hand, drew his hunting knife.
"Stay where you are," he said, "or I kill."
His tone was quiet and level, but it had the cutting edge of a keen knife. The two men stopped, and then Tarzan backed away toward the forest that came down to the edge of the camp.
"Aren't you going to do something?" shouted Trent. "Are you going to let this maniac carry me off into the woods and butcher me?"
"What shall we do?" cried Romanoff to no one in particular.
"We can't do anything," said Ramsgate. "If we go after him, he'll surely kill Trent. If we don't, he may let him go."
"I think we ought to go after them," said Gault, but no one volunteered, and a moment later Tarzan disappeared into the forest dragging Trent with him....
The safari did not get an early start that morning, and long before they got under way Trent came out of the forest and rejoined them. He was still trembling from fear.
"Give me a spot of brandy, John," he said to Ramsgate. "I think that demon broke my wrist. God, I'm about done up. That fellow's not human. He handled me as though I were a baby. When he was sure no one was following us, he let me go. And then he took to the trees just like a monkey. I tell you, it's uncanny."
"Did he harm you in any way after he took you out of camp?" Ramsgate wanted to know.
"No. He just dragged me along. He never spoke once, never said a word. It was like—why, it was like being dragged off by a lion."
"I hope we've seen the last of him," said Ramsgate hopefully.
"Well, there's not much doubt about that," replied Trent. "He killed poor Burton, all right, and he's made a clean getaway."
The safari moved slowly, four carriers bearing the body of Burton on an improvised stretcher. It brought up the rear of the column, and Barbara walked ahead with her brother so she would not have to see it.
They did not reach Bangali that day, and had to make another camp. Everyone was depressed. There was no laughing or singing among the native boys, and very shortly after the evening meal everyone turned in for the night.
About midnight the camp was aroused by wild shouting and a shot. Then Smith came running from the tent he shared with Peterson. Ramsgate leaped from his cot and ran out into the open in his pajamas, almost colliding with Smith.
"What's the matter, man? For God's sake, what's happened?"
"That crazy giant," cried Smith. "He was here again. He killed poor Peterson this time. I shot at him. I think I hit him, but I don't know. I couldn't be sure."
"Where did he go?" snapped Ramsgate.
"Off there, into the jungle," panted Smith, pointing.
Ramsgate shook his head.
"There's no use following," he said. "We could never find him."
They went into Peterson's tent and found him lying on his cot, stabbed through the heart while he slept. There was no more sleep in camp that night and the whites as well as the askaris stood guard.