A brave stranger

And while the warriors and priests of A-Luri searched for the lost monkey temple, palace, and city, a naked stranger arrived from the Kor-ul-ya mountains along a steep path, carrying the enfield on his back. Gradually he moved down towards the bottom of the gorge, and there, as the old path ran smoother as he progressed, he swung forward along, in light steps, though always with extreme vigilance against possible dangers. Vieno’s line blew from the mountains behind him so that he could only use his ears and eyes to come up with a threat from the front. Usually the path followed the crusts of a winding creek at the bottom of the gorge, but at a few points where the water flowed over the steep edge of the rock, it turned to the side of the gorge, in other places circling the cliffs,

They stopped at the same time, about a hundred steps apart. The stranger saw in front of him a large, white warrior, whose nudity was covered only by a groin garment, shoulder girdles, and a webbing. The man was armed with a heavy, grouped mallet and a short knife; the latter waved in a sheath on his left hip at the end of one shoulder strap, the other carrying a leather backpack hanging on his right side. It was Ta-den, hunting alone in the gorge of his friend, the chief of Kor-ul-jan. He watched the stranger in amazement, but no wonder, because he knew him to belong to the race to which he had been introduced by his experience with the Terrible Tarzan, and as a friend of the ape he did not look at the newcomer hostilely.

The latter was the first to signal his intentions, raising his palm towards Ta-Den as a gesture that has been a metaphor for peace from pole to pole ever since man stopped walking on his knuckles. At the same time, he progressed a few steps and stopped again.

Assuming that the creature, which looked so Terrible Tarzan, must have been the tribe of his lost friend, Ta-den gladly accepted this offer of peace, responding to the sign, ascending along the path to the point where the other stood. “Who are you?” he asked, but the respondent just shook his head to show that he did not understand.

By signs he tried to express to the ho-don that he was following the tracks that had led him for many days from somewhere behind the mountains, and Ta-den thought he could conclude that the comer was looking for the Tarzan-jad-guru. However, he would have liked to know if he was looking for a monkey man as a friend or an enemy.

The stranger spotted the ho-grabbing thumbs, similar big toes, and long tail, but tried to hide his wonder. Greater than any other impression, however, was his sense of relief that the first inhabitant of this strange country he encountered proved to be kind; his position would have been very troublesome if he had had to infiltrate the hostile area. Ta-den had set out to catch some small mammals whose meat is a special thing to do, but the greater interest in the new observation made him forget his hunting chores. He wanted to take the stranger to Om-at so that maybe together they could somehow find out about the real intentions of the newcomer. So again, relying on the signs, he pointed to one another, and together they stepped down toward the rocks of the people of Om-at.

As they approached them, they met wives and children, working under the protection of the elderly and young, collecting the forest fruits and herbs that were part of their food care, and caring for the small arable lands they cultivated. The cones were grafted in small flat patches of rye. The tools were metal-tipped rods, more reminiscent of spears than tools of peaceful farming. In addition to these, others had flat blades that were neither hoes nor shovels, but looked like a clumsy attempt to combine those two work weapons.

At first seeing these creatures, the stranger stopped and detached his bows, for they were black and black and their bodies covered with hair throughout. But Ta-den, who realized the suspicion aroused in his partner’s mind, reassured him with a gesture and a smile. Meanwhile, the Waz-don gathered around them and furiously questioned the questions in a language the stranger found his guide understood, even though it was simply incomprehensible to him himself. They did not try anything hostile, and he was now sure he had found himself among a peaceful and friendly people.

Now there was only a short journey to the caves, and when they arrived there, Ta-den guided his comrade up along the wooden blocks, confident that the creature he had found would follow him as agilely as the Terrible Tarzan. And he was not disappointed in it, for it was easy for his companion, and soon they stood in the vestibule of Om-at, the chief, of the cave.

The latter was not in the cave and did not return until mid-afternoon, but in the meantime many warriors visited the traveler, and this became more and more fully convinced of his master’s kind and peaceful intentions, with no idea that he was a guest of a ferocious Tarzan’s arrival had never been tolerated by a stranger among himself.

At last Om-at settled down, and instinctively realized that the wanderer was in front of a man who was a great person among this people; possibly a commander or a king, as it was shown not only by the position and behavior of the other black warriors, but by the look and behavior of a handsome creature as he watched the stranger, while Ta-den explained how they had encountered each other. “And I think, Om-at,” continued ho-don, “that he is looking for the Terrible Tarzan.”

The utterance of this name, the first perceptive word that had heard in his ears, made the stranger’s face brighten. “Tarzan,” he exclaimed, “Monkey Tarzan!” and tried to tell them by signs that he was looking for him.

They understood the matter, and also guessed from the look on his face that he was looking for Tarzan, encouraged by affection rather than vice versa; but Om-at wanted to be sure of that. He pointed at the stranger’s knife and, repeating Tarzan’s name, grabbed Taden, was striking him, and at the same time turned questioningly towards the stranger.

The latter shook his head violently, then lowered his hands beside him and then raised his palms as a sign of peace.

“He is a friend of the Tarzan-jad-guru,” Ta-den exclaimed.

“Either a friend or a great liar,” replied Om-at.

“Tarzan,” exclaimed the stranger, “do you know him? Does he live? Ah, I wish I could speak your language!” And resorting again to sign language, he tried to find out where Tarzan was. He uttered the name several times and referred to different directions, a cave, down a gorge, back to the mountains, or the outer valley; and each time he raised his eyebrows questioningly and uttered “huh,” a universal intelligence they could not fail to understand. But always Om-at shook his head and spread his palms with a gesture that meant that even though he understood the question, he did not know where the monkey man was. And then the black chief tried his best to explain to the stranger where Tarzan might have stayed.

He named the guest Jor-don, which in Pal-ul-don’s language means “stranger,” and pointed to the sun and said as . He repeated this several times and then raised his other hand, brushing his fingers, which he, including his thumb, touched one by one, chanting the word adene until the stranger understood that he meant “five.” Again he pointed to the sun and, running his index finger in an arc from the eastern horizon towards the west, repeated the words as adenen. It was clear to the stranger that he meant the sun had shifted to the sky more than five times. In other words, five days had passed. Om-at then pointed to the cave where they stood, uttered Tarzan’s name, and imitated the walking man with the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand all the way to the vestibule, trying to show that Tarzan had walked out of the cave and climbed up the pieces five days ago; but he could not go any further in sign language.

Until now, the stranger had comprehended his explanation, and announcing that he understood it, he pointed to himself and then to the pieces leading upwards, thus making others realize that he was going to follow Tarzan.

“Let’s go with him,” crocheted Om-at; “After all, we have not yet punished kor-ul-lules for killing our friend and ally.”

“Bend him to wait until tomorrow,” Ta-den urged, “so that you may have many warriors with you to make a great plunder into the land of the cor-ul-luli. And this time do not kill your prisoners, Om. so maybe one of them will let us know the fate of Tarzan-jad-guru. ”

“Great is the wisdom of the Hondons,” replied Om-at. “Let it be as you say, and having taken all the kor-ul-luli captive, we will force them to tell us what we want to know. And then we will march them to the edge of the Kor-ul-gryf and push them over the rock.”

Ta-den smiled. He knew that they would not capture all the warriors of Kor-ul-Lul — that they would be thankful for their happiness if they captured a single one; whenever possible, they would even suffer a loss and be pushed back. But he also knew that Om-at would not hesitate in carrying out his threat if given the opportunity, for so relentlessly the neighbors hated each other.

It was not difficult to explain Om-at’s plan to the stranger or to obtain his consent, for he realized, then, when the great black chief had determined to leave, followed by numerous warriors, that the adventure would probably lead them to a hostile land; and he was pleased with all the support offered, for the success of his search was paramount of all.

He slept that night in a pile of fur in a section of Om-at’s traditional cave, and early the next day after breakfast they set out, a hundred wild warriors who, like ants, climbed a steep rock wall to the top of the ridge. In front of the main force were two warriors whose duties were similar to those of modern war movements, that is, securing the lineup from coming into too abrupt contact with the enemy.

They went over the ridge and then down towards Kor-ul-Luli, meeting there almost immediately upon reaching a lonely and unarmed waz-don, fearfully stepping up the gorge towards the village of his tribe. He was taken prisoner by them, which – strangely enough – only increased the creature’s fear, even though he had expected an immediate death blow as soon as he had seen them and found escape impossible.

“Take him to Kor-ul-ja,” said Om-at to one of his warriors, “and keep him there until I return, and do him no harm.”

So the astonished kor-ul-lul was taken away, meanwhile as the wild team crept from tree to tree as they approached the village. Luck smiled on Om-at in the sense that it would soon ring him what he was looking for – a huge match. For they had not yet seen the caves of Kor-ul-Lul when they encountered a considerable military unit moving down the gorge on some expedition.

Like the shadows disappeared chor-ul-between Norwegian foliage curtain on either side of the path. Unaware of the impending danger, confident in their safety, knowing that they were trampling on their own territory, where every rock and stone was familiar to them as the characteristics of their wives, the kor-ul-lulit went to the harbor. Suddenly this apparent peace was disturbed by a wild cry, and a thrown gavel overthrew a kor-ul-Lulin.

The shout was a sign of a ferocious chorus from the throat of Satakunta’s Kor-ul footer, and was soon joined by the war cries of the enemies. The clubs cruised in the air, and then the two troops who embarked on the battle dispersed into many matches man-to-man as each warrior chose his enemy and rushed at him. The knives flashed in the spots of sunshine that the tree tops sifted into the field. Shiny black furs received charming streaks.

The smell of darkness mingled with the alien’s smooth, brown skin in the black carcasses of friends and enemies. Only with his sharp eyes and quick intellect had he learned to distinguish kor-ul-luli from kor-ul-legs, who were similar except for “clothing”, for immediately on the enemy’s first attack he had noticed that their lumbar spears were not spotted panther skins like their allies.

After clocking his first opponent, Om-at glanced at Jor-don. “He’s fighting fiercely like a split ,” the chief said. – The tribe from which he and the Tarzan-jad-guru come must be powerful; – and then all his attention caught the new striker.

The storm of battle rippled back and forth in the woods until the survivors were starving. Everyone except a stranger who did not seem to feel tired. He still struggled even as every new opponent would gladly give up the game; and when there were no more irresistible kor-ul-lules, he attacked those who hastily stood exhausted against the kor-ul-jas. – And he always carried on his back that strange object which Om-at had thought was some kind of strange weapon, but whose purpose he could not now comprehend, because Jor-don never used it, but it mostly seemed to be in the way and an unnecessary nuisance, bouncing its owner as this cat-like jumps here and there in the stages of his victorious duel.

Even with all the shame of the example of the stranger, the kor-uls attacked the enemy; but the latter, who had probably begun to fall into terror with terror from the restraint of a stranger — a weary devil who seemed invulnerable to their blows — lost their courage and tried to escape. And then the warriors of Om-ati besieged the fifty most hungry at the command of their commander and took them captive.

After returning to his cave, Om-at Kor-ul-Lul took the prisoners one by one in front of him and asked everyone about the fate of Tarzan. Without exception, they told the same story — that they had arrested Tarzan five days ago, but that he had killed a soldier left as his guard and then carried the head of his unfortunate victim on the opposite side of Kor-ul-Lul, hanging it from his hair there on a tree branch. But what he was after, they did not know; not a single one until the last prisoner was under investigation — the unarmed man they had first arrested on his journey from the valley of Jad-ben-Otho to the caves of his people.

Realizing the purpose of their survey, this one began to rub the trade on his own and his comrades ’spirit and freedom. “I can tell you a lot about that terrible man, kor-ul-yat,” he said. “I saw him yesterday and I know where he is, and if you promise to let me and my comrade safely return to the caves of our ancestors, I will truthfully tell you what I know.”

“You let us both know,” replied Om-at, “or else we’ll kill you.”

“You will kill me anyway,” replied the prisoner, “unless you give me this promise. So if I am killed, I will take my knowledge with me.”

“He’s right, Om-at,” Ta-den remarked; “Promise him that they will get their freedom.”

“All right,” Om-at admitted. “Speak kor-ul-lul, and when you have told me everything, you and your companion may return to your tribe without being disturbed.”

“That’s the thing,” the prisoner began. “Three days ago, I and a group of us hunted near the mouth of Kor-ul-Lul, a short distance from where you were arrested this morning, and then we were surprised by a large herd of ho-donons who took us captive and took us to A-luri. was chosen as slaves, and the rest was thrown into the chamber below the temple, where the Hondons preserved the beings sacrificed to Jad-ben-Otho on the altars of the temple of A-Luri.

“- At that time, my destiny seemed really determined, and I was happy with those who had been chosen as slaves by the Hondons, because of course they could hope to escape. There was no flash of hope for those locked in the chamber with me.

“- But yesterday something strange happened. The temple came with all the priests, the king, and many of his warriors, among others, which everyone held in high esteem; like that terrible man who had recently been a prisoner in the village of Kor-ul-Lul – he whom you call Tarzan-jad-guru, but whom they called Dor-ul-Otho, he looked at us and asked the high priest, and when he was told , for which we were held captive there, he became angry and realized that Jad-ben-Otho did not want to sacrifice his people in this way, and then he commanded the high priest to release us, and so it was done.

“- The detainees from Ho-don were allowed to return to their homes, we were taken outside the city of A-Luri and we were instructed to swarm to Kor-ul-luli. But there were many dangers lurking between A-Luri and Kor-ul-Lul, and there were only three of us, all unarmed. . Thus, none of us had time to our people in the village, and the only one among us is alive. I have spoken. ”

“Is that all you know about Tarzan-jad-guru?” asked Om.

“That’s all I know,” replied the prisoner, “except that what they called Lu-don, the high priest of A-Luri, was very angry, and one of the priests who guided us out of town crocheted to the other that the stranger was not Dor at all. -ul-Otho. Lu-don had supposedly said so and also promised to expose him so that his arrogance would be punished by death. That’s how much they challenged my hearts. “And now, Chief of Kor-ul-yah, did you allow us to leave?”

Om-at nodded. “Go!” he said. “And you, Ab-on, send soldiers to protect them until they have safely reached Kor-ul-luli.”

“Jor-don,” he crocheted, referring to the stranger, “come with me,” and after getting up he stepped upstairs toward the edge of the cliff. On the ridge, he then pointed down into the valley, towards the shimmering city of A-Luri in the evening sun.

“There’s Tarzan-jad-guru over there,” he said, and Jor-don understood.