As the Monkey Tarzan plunged forward along the trees, the rumbling sound of the battle between the Abyssinians and the lions became more and more clearly heard in his delicate ears, reinforcing his conviction that the people were in a very awkward match.
Eventually, the blaze of campfire clearly shone through the trees in between, and a moment later a giant monkey stopped at a branch hanging over the camp to watch the horrible carnage seen below.
He created a single all-encompassing look on the battlefield, and then his gaze fixed on the figure of the woman opposite the great lion; there was only a horse carcass in between.
The beast just crouched to the jump as Tarzan got a terrible vision in his eyes. Numa was almost under the branch on which the monkey stood naked and unarmed. Tarzan didn’t doubt for a moment — it seemed as if he hadn’t even stopped in his hurry along the trees, so lightning fast he saw and grasped the vision below — so immediately he took action.
For Jane Clayton, the situation had seemed so hopeless that she just stood indifferently hopeless, waiting for the bump of a big carcass to throw her to the ground — waiting for the momentary pain that cruel nails and horrible gnashing teeth would produce before her gentle forgetfulness came to an end that would end her.
What good would trying to escape? It was as good to watch the awful end eye to eye as to be struck from the back during a futile escape. He didn’t even close his eyes to remove the terrible, growling gut from his sight. So when he saw the lion preparing to attack, he also saw a mighty figure of bronze jump from above a tree at the same time that Numa rose to jump.
Jane’s eyes widened in amazement and disbelief when she saw that figure who seemed to have risen from the dead. The lion had been forgotten — as well as his own danger — everything was insignificant, except for the miracle of this remarkable resurrection. Her lips slit and her hands clenched firmly against the rising chest, Jane reached out, her eyes wide forward, seeing her dead husband enchanted.
He saw a sinewy figure crawling next to a lion and plunging against a leaping beast like a huge, living wallbreaker. He saw the beast deviate to the side when it was already almost upon him, and at the same time he realized that a mere intangible ghost could not in this way nullify the attack of an insane lion — there was a real, living force greater than the animal.
Tarzan, his Tarzan lived! A cry of unspeakable joy erupted from his lips, but the horror interrupted it when he saw his spouse’s completely unprotected position and realized that the lion had recovered and turned against Tarzan in a state of insane revenge.
At the feet of the monkey man was an abandoned rifle of a dead Abyssinian, his carcassed body with its limbs wide at where Numa had left it. A quick gaze, staring at the ground with some defensive weapon, spotted the gun, and as the lion rose to its hind legs to catch the adventurous human being who had dared with his tiny force to settle between its prey, a heavy gunpowder fluttered in the air and shattered his beast wide.
The moment the lion sank spiritless to the ground, Jane Clayton threw herself into the arms of her expectant husband. For a brief moment, Tarzan gently pressed his spouse against his chest, then a quick glance around woke the monkey man to notice the dangers that still surround them.
Everywhere, the lions still jumped at the new victims. Fearful crazy horses still threatened them, rushing from one side of the fence to the other. The bullets of the guns of the surviving warriors only increased the danger of their situation.
Staying in place was the pursuit of death. Tarzan grabbed Jane Clayton and lifted her to her wide shoulder. The blacks who had seen his arrival watched in amazement as the naked giant easily jumped on the branches of a tree from which, like a ghost, had fallen into the camp, and disappeared as it had come, taking their prisoners with them.
And so Tarzan escaped without being harassed by anyone from the Abyssinian camp, from which the bustle of battle followed him deep into the jungle, until the increasing distance gradually dampened it completely.
The monkey went back to the place where he had left Werper. Now there was joy in his heart instead of the fear and sorrow that had just prevailed, and he had decided to forgive the Belgian and help him escape. But when he got there, Werper was gone, and although Tarzan shouted at him many times, he got no answer. Convinced that the man had deliberately avoided him following his own plans, he felt that he had no obligation to expose his wife again to dangers and burdens by taking a more thorough search for the missing Belgian.
“He has escaped his guilt, Jane,” he said. “We will now let him reap what he has sown.”
They headed their journey straight like letter pigeons toward ruins and destruction to the place that had once been the center of their happy lives. Soon, the helpful black hands would be able to get their homes back in order as the loyal wazirs toiled again, happy and happy that the troubled host had returned.
Their roads ignored the village of Ahmet Zek, and there they met only charred, still smoky remnants of piling and aboriginal houses as silent testimony to the wrath and revenge of a powerful enemy.
“Wazirit,” Tarzan remarked with a grim smile.
“God bless them!” exclaimed Jane Clayton.
“They can’t be far from us,” said Tarzan, “Busuli and others. Gold is gone and so are Opar’s gems, Jane, but we have each other and wazirs – we have love, honesty, and friendship. And what are gold and gems for these?” compared? ”
“If only Mugambi lived,” replied Jane, “and those other brave men who sacrificed their lives in vain in trying to protect me!”
Feeling both joy and sorrow, they went silently through the native jungle, and as the day turned into evening, the obscure chords of distant sounds entered the monkey’s ears.
“We’re approaching the wazirs, Jane,” he said. “I can hear them in front of us. I think they’re going to camp for the night.”
Half an hour later, the spouses encountered a group of black warriors that Busuli had assembled to take their revenge war against the bandits. They were accompanied by the captive women of the tribe they had found in the village of Ahmet Zek, and on the side of Busul loomed a familiar black figure who was very large compared to the giant wazirs. It had Mugambi, whom Jane had thought died in the midst of charred ruins.
Ah, such a reunion! Dancing, singing and laughter evoked the echoes of the gloomy forest late into the night. The Wazirs repeatedly recounted their various adventures. Time and time again they repeated their battles against wild beasts and wild men, and the day dawned as Busuli explained, at least for the fortieth time, how he, accompanied by a handful of his warriors, had watched the battle of gold bars that Abdul Murak’s Abyssinians had taken against Ahmet Zek’s Arab robbers they, after the victors had ridden away, had crawled out of the reeds of the river and left their way the expensive ingots with them, to hide them in a place from which the eye of a bandit could never notice them.
A comparison of the experiences of the Belgian revealed his mischief. Only Lady Greystoke also saw something commendable in the man’s behavior, but she, too, found it difficult to reconcile Werper’s many disgusting deeds and this one expression of chivalry and honor.
“Deep in the soul of every man,” said Tarzan, “there must be a seed of decency. Your own innocence, Jane, rather than your helplessness awakened for a moment the dormant honor of that sunken man. Through this one act he expressed his better side; his sins when he is called before his Creator. ”
And Jane Clayton whispered warmly, “Amen!”
* * * * *
It had been months. The work of the Wazirs and the gold of Opar had rebuilt and restored the destroyed home of Greystoke. The simple life of a large African farm continued again in the same way as before the advent of the Belgians and Arabs. Yesterday’s sorrows and dangers had been forgotten.
For the first time in many months, Lord Greystoke felt he could get a day off for himself and his wazires. A great hunting trip was organized so that the faithful workers could solemnly celebrate the graduation of their work.
The fishing trip went well in all respects, and ten days after its commencement, a heavily loaded safari set out on a return trip to the Waziri Plain. The Loord and Lady Greystoke rode with Busul and Mugambi at the forefront of the team, and their laughter and conversation expressed the unpretentious acquaintance that common hobbies and mutual respect create among decent and intelligent people of different races.
Jane Clayton’s horse suddenly shyed away from an object hidden in a long grass in an open place in the jungle. Tarzan’s sharp eyes quickly stared at the explanation for the animal’s buzz.
“What’s in there?” he exclaimed, jumping from the saddle and a moment later all four were in a circle around the human skull and a small whitened bone.
Tarzan bent down and lifted the leather bag next to the horrible remains of the man. There seemed to be something loud inside the bag, and a sound of amazement came from him.
“Gems of Opar!” he exclaimed, lifting the bag high, and continued,
“So here are the remains of the Belgian Werper.”
Mugambi laughed. “Look inside the bag, bwana,” he exclaimed, “so you see what the gems of Opar are like – you see what the Belgian gave his life for.” And the Negro laughed out loud.
“Why are you laughing?” Tarzan asked.
“Because,” replied Mugambi, “I filled a Belgian bag in the gravel of the river before I escaped from the Abyssinian camp where we were imprisoned. I slept in the jungle, but the Belgian at least lost them – open his bag and you’ll see. ”
Tarzan removed the strap that kept the mouth of the leather bag closed and allowed the contents to slowly drain into the palm of his hand. Mugambi’s eyes widened at the sight, and exclamations of astonishment and disbelief came from others, for glorious and sparkling gems flowed from the moldy and fragile bag.
“Gems of Opar!” exclaimed Tarzan. “But how did Werper get them over again?”
No one could answer, for Tshulk that Werper had died, and no one else knew about it.
“Man in the park!” said the monkey, waving himself in the saddle again. “Even in his death, he has atoned for his transgressions – let his evil deeds be forgotten while his bones come to peace.”