CHAPTER XXIII When Darneau regained consciousness, he found himself lying upon a bed of soft ferns and grasses beneath the little, A-shaped shelter of boughs. At his feet an opening looked out upon a green swad, and at a little distance beyond was the dense wall of jungle and forest. He was very lame and sore and weak, and as full consciousness returned he felt the sharp torture of many cruel wounds and the dull aching of every bone and muscle in his body as a result of the hideous beating he had received. Even the turning of his head caused him such excruciating agony that he lay still with closed eyes for a long time. He tried to piece out the details of his adventure prior to the time he lost consciousness to see if they would explain his present whereabouts. He wondered if he were among friends or foes. At length he recollected the whole hideous scene at the stake and finally recalled the strange white figure in whose arms he had sunk into oblivion. Darneau wondered what fate lay in store for him now. He could neither see nor hear any signs of life about him. The incessant hum of the jungle, the rustling of millions of leaves, the buzz of insects, the voices of the birds and monkeys, seemed blended into a strangely soothing purr, as though he lay apart, far from the myriad life whose sounds came to him only as a blurred echo. At length he fell into a quiet slumber, nor did he awake again until afternoon. Once more he experienced the strange sense of utter bewildernment that had marked his earlier awakening, but soon he recalled the recent past and, looking through the opening at his feet, he saw the figure of a man squatting on his haunches. The broad musketer back was turned toward him, but tan though it was, Darneau saw that it was the back of a white man and he thanked God. The Frenchman called faintly. The man turned and rising came toward the shelter. His face was very handsome. The handsomest thought, Darneau, that he had ever seen. Stooping he crawled into the shelter beside the wounded officer and placed a cool hand upon his forehead. Darneau spoke to him in French, but the man only shook his head. Sadly it seemed to the Frenchman. Then Darneau tried English, but still the man shook his head. Italian, Spanish, and German brought similar discouragement. Darneau knew a few words of Norwegian, Russian, Greek, and also had a smattering of the language of one of the West Coast Negro tribes. The man denied them all. After examining Darneau's wounds the man left the shelter and disappeared. In half an hour he was back with fruit and a hollow gourd-like vegetable filled with water. Darneau drank and ate a little. He was surprised that he had no fever. Again he tried to converse with a strange nurse, but the attempt was useless. Suddenly the man hastened from the shelter, only to return a few minutes later with several pieces of bark and, wonder of wonders, a lead pencil. Squatting beside Darneau he wrote for a minute on the smooth inner surface of the bark, then he handed it to the Frenchman. Darneau was astonished to see, in plain print-like characters, a message in English. I am Tarzan of the apes. Who are you? Can you read this language? Darneau seized the pencil, then he stopped. This strange man wrote English. Evidently he was an Englishman. Yes, said Darneau. I read English. I speak it also. Now we may talk. First let me thank you for all that you have done for me. The man only shook his head and pointed to the pencil and the bark. Mon Dieu! cried Darneau. If you are English, why is it that you cannot speak English? And then in a flash it came to him. The man was a mute, possibly a deaf mute. So Darneau wrote a message on the bark in English. I am Paul Darneau, lieutenant in the Navy of France. I thank you for what you have done for me. You have saved my life, and all that I have is yours. May I ask how it is that one who writes English does not speak it? Tarzan's reply filled Darneau with still greater wonder. I speak only the language of my tribe, the great apes who work Kerchaks, and a little of the languages of Tentor, the elephant, and Numa, the lion, and of the other folks of the jungle I understand, with a human being I have never spoken, except once with Jane Porter, by signs, this is the first time I have spoken with another of my kind through written words. Darneau was mystified. It seemed incredible that there lived upon earth a full-grown man who had never spoken with a fellow man, and still more preposterous that such a one could read and write. He looked again at Tarzan's message, except once with Jane Porter. It was the American girl who had been carried into the jungle by a gorilla. A sudden light commenced to dawn on Darneau. This then was the gorilla. He seized the pencil and wrote, Where is Jane Porter? And Tarzan replied below. Back with her people in the cabin of Tarzan of the apes. She is not dead then? Where was she? What happened to her? She is not dead. She was taken by Turkos to be his wife, but Tarzan of the apes took her away from Turkos and killed him before he could harm her. None in all the jungle may face Tarzan of the apes in battle and live. I am Tarzan of the apes, mighty fighter. Darneau wrote, I am glad she is safe. It pains me to write. I will rest awhile. And then Tarzan. Yes, rest. When you are well I shall take you back to your people. For many days Darneau lay upon his bed of soft ferns. The second day a fever had come and Darneau thought that it meant infection and he knew that he would die. An idea came to him. He wondered why he had not thought of it before. He called Tarzan and indicated by signs that he would write. And when Tarzan had fetched the bark and pencil, Darneau wrote, When you go to my people and lead them here, I will write the message that you may take to them and they will follow you. Tarzan shook his head and taking the bark wrote, I had thought of that the first day, but I dared not. The great apes come often to this spot and if they found you here wounded and alone they would kill you. Darneau turned on his side and closed his eyes. He did not wish to die, but he felt that he was going. For the fever was mounting higher and higher. That night he lost consciousness. For three days he was in delirium and Tarzan sat beside him and bathed his head in hands and washed his wounds. On the fourth day the fever broke as suddenly as it had come, but it left Darneau a shadow of his former self and very weak. Tarzan had to lift him that he might drink from the gourd. The fever had not been the result of infection, as Darneau had thought, but one of those that commonly attack whites in the jungles of Africa and either kill or leave them as suddenly as Darneau's had left him. Two days later Darneau was tottering about the amphitheater, Tarzan's strong arm about him to keep him from falling. They sat beneath the shade of a great tree and Tarzan found some smooth bark that they might converse. Darneau wrote the first message. What can I do to repay you for all that you have done for me? And Tarzan in reply. Teach me to speak the language of men. And so Darneau commenced it once, pointing out familiar objects and repeating their names in French, for he thought that it would be easier to teach this man his own language since he understood it himself best of all. It meant nothing to Tarzan, of course, for he could not tell one language from another. So when he pointed to the word man, which he had printed upon a piece of bark, he learned from Darneau that it was pronounced um. And in the same way he was taught to pronounce ape, sange, and tree, arbre. He was a most eager student, and in two more days had mastered so much French that he could speak little sentences such as, that is a tree, this is grass. I am hungry, and the like, but Darneau found that it was difficult to teach him the French construction upon a foundation of English. The Frenchman wrote little lessons for him in English and had Tarzan repeat them in French. But as a literal translation was usually very poor French, Tarzan was often confused. Darneau realized now that he had made a mistake, but it seemed too late to go back and do it all over again, and forced Tarzan to unlearn all that he had learned, especially as they were rapidly approaching a point where they would be able to converse. On the third day after the fever broke, Tarzan wrote a message asking Darneau if he felt strong enough to be carried back to the cabin. Tarzan was as anxious to go as Darneau for he longed to see Jane again. It had been hard for him to remain with the Frenchman all these days for that very reason, and that he had unselfishly done so, spoke more glowingly of his nobility of character than even did his rescuing the French officer from Mabonga's clutches. Darneau, only too willing to attempt the journey, wrote, But you cannot carry me all the distance through this tangled forest. Tarzan laughed. May we, he said, and Darneau laughed aloud to hear the phrase that he used so often to glide from Tarzan's tongue. So they set out, Darneau marveling as had Clayton and Jane at the wondrous strength and agility of the eight men. Mid-afternoon brought them to the clearing, and as Tarzan dropped to earth from the branches of the last tree, his heart leaped and bounded against his ribs in anticipation of seeing Jane so soon again. No one was in sight outside the cabin, and Darneau was perplexed to note that neither the cruiser nor the arrow was at anchor in the bay. An atmosphere of loneliness pervaded the spot, which caught suddenly at both men as they strode toward the cabin. Neither spoke, yet both knew before they opened the closed door what they would find beyond. Tarzan lifted the latch and pushed the great door in upon its wooden hinges. It was, as they had feared, the cabin was deserted. The men turned and looked at one another. Darneau knew that his people thought him dead, but Tarzan thought only of the woman who had kissed him in love and now had fled from him while he was serving one of her people. A great bitterness rose in his heart. He would go away, far into the jungle, and join his tribe. Never would he see one of his own kind again, nor could he bear the thought of returning to the cabin. He would leave that forever behind him with the great hopes he had nursed there of finding his own race and becoming a man among men. And the Frenchman, Darneau, what of him? He could get along as Tarzan had. Tarzan did not want to see him more. He wanted to get away from everything that might remind him of Jane. As Tarzan stood upon the threshold brooding, Darneau had entered the cabin. Many comforts he saw that had been left behind. He recognized numerous articles from the cruiser, a camp oven, some kitchen utensils, a rifle and many rounds of ammunition, canned foods, blankets, two chairs and a cot, and several books and periodicals, mostly American. They must intend returning, thought Darneau. He walked over to the table that John Clayton had built so many years before to serve as a desk, and on it he saw two notes addressed to Tarzan of the apes. One was in a strong masculine hand and was unsealed. The other, in a woman's hand, was sealed. Here are two messages for you, Tarzan of the apes, cried Darneau, turning toward the door, but his companion was not there. Darneau walked to the door and looked out. Tarzan was nowhere in sight. He called aloud, but there was no response. « Mon Dieu!» exclaimed Darneau. He has left me. I feel it. He has gone back into his jungle and left me here alone. And then he remembered the look on Tarzan's face when they had discovered that the cabin was empty. Such a look as the hunter sees in the eyes of the wounded deer he has wantonly brought down. The man had been hard hit. Darneau realized it now. But why? He could not understand. The Frenchman looked about him. The loneliness and the horror of the place commenced to get on his nerves. Already weakened by the ordeal of suffering and sickness he had passed through. To be left here alone beside this awful jungle, never to hear a human voice or see a human face, in constant dread of savage beasts and more terribly savage men, a parade of solitude and hopelessness. It was awful. And far to the east Tarzan of the apes was speeding through the middle terrace back to his tribe. Never had he traveled with such reckless speed he felt that he was running away from himself, that by hurtling through the forest like a frightened squirrel he was escaping from his own thoughts. But no matter how fast he went he found them always with him. They passed above the sinuous body of Sabor, the lioness, going in the opposite direction. Toward the cabin thought Tarzan. What could Darneau do against Sabor? Or if Bolgani the guerrilla should come upon him, or Numa the lion, or Cruel Shita? Tarzan paused in his flight. What are you, Tarzan? He asked aloud. An ape or a man?   Darneau closed the cabin door. He was very nervous. Even brave men, and Darneau was a brave man, are sometimes frightened by solitude. He loaded one of the rifles and placed it within easy reach. Then he went to the desk and took up the unsealed letter addressed to Tarzan. Possibly it contained word that his people had but left the beach temporarily. He felt that it would be no breach of ethics to read this letter, so he took the enclosure from the envelope and read, To Tarzan of the apes, we thank you for the use of your cabin and are sorry that you did not permit us the pleasure of seeing and thanking you in person. We have harmed nothing but have left many things for you which may add to your comfort and safety here in your lonely home. If you know the strange white man who saved our lives so many times and brought us food, and if you can converse with him, thank him also for his kindness. We sail within the hour never to return, but we wish you and that other jungle friend to know that we shall always thank you for what you did for strangers on your shore, and that we should have done infinitely more to reward you both had you given us the opportunity. Very respectfully, William Cecil Clayton. Never to return, muttered Darneau, and threw himself face downward upon the cot. An hour later he started up listening. Something was at the door trying to enter. Darneau reached for the loaded rifle and placed it to his shoulder. Dusk was falling and the interior of the cabin was very dark, but the man conceived the latch moving from its place. He felt his hair rising upon his scalp. Gently the door opened until a thin crack showed something standing just beyond. Darneau sighted along the blue barrel at the crack of the door, and then he pulled the trigger. Chapter 24 of Tarzan of the Apes This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 24. Lost Treasure When the expedition returned, following their fruitless endeavor to succour Darneau, Captain Dufresne was anxious to steam away as quickly as possible, and all save Jane had acquiesced. No, she said determinately, I shall not go, nor should you, for there are two friends in that jungle who will come out of it some day, expecting to find us awaiting them. Your officer, Captain Dufresne, is one of them, and the forest man who has saved the lives of every member of my father's party is the other. He left me at the edge of the jungle two days ago to hasten to the aid of my father and Mr. Clayton, as he thought, and he has stayed to rescue Lieutenant Darneau, of that you may be sure. Had he been too late to be of service to the Lieutenant, he would have been back before now. The fact that he is not back is sufficient proof to me that he is delayed because Lieutenant Darneau is wounded, or he has had to follow his captors further than the village which your sailors attacked. But poor Darneau's uniform and all his belongings were found in that village, Miss Porter, argued the Captain. And the natives showed great excitement when questioned as to the white man's fate. Yes, Captain, but they did not admit that he was dead, and as for his clothes and accoutrements being in their possession, why more civilized people than these poor savage Negroes stripped their prisoners of every article of value whether they intend killing them or not. Even the soldiers of my own dear south looted not only the living but the dead. It is strong circumstantial evidence, I will admit, but it is not positive proof. Possibly your forest man himself was captured or killed by the savages, suggested Captain Dufresne. The girl laughed. You do not know him, she replied, a little thrill of pride setting her nerves a tingle at the thought that she spoke of her own. I admit that he would be worth waiting for, this superman of yours, laughed the Captain. I most certainly should like to see him. Then wait for him, my dear Captain, urged the girl, for I intend doing so. The Frenchman would have been a very much surprise man could he have interpreted the true meaning of the girl's words. They had been walking from the beach toward the cabin as they talked, and now they joined a little group sitting on camp stools in the shade of a great tree beside the cabin. Professor Porter was there, and Mr. Philander, and Clayton, would lieutenant Charpentier and two of his brother officers, while Esmeralda hovered in the background ever and a non-venturing opinions and comments, with the freedom of an old and much-indulged family servant. The officers arose and saluted as their superior approached, and Clayton surrendered his camp stool to Jane. We were just discussing poor Paul's fate, said Captain Dufresne. Miss Porter insists that we have no absolute proof of his death, nor have we, and on the other hand she maintains that the continued absence of your omnipotent jungle friend indicates that Darno is still in need of his services, either because he is wounded, or still as a prisoner in a more distant native village. It has been suggested, ventured Lieutenant Charpentier, that the wild man may have been a member of the tribe of blacks who attacked our party, that he was hastening to aid them, his own people. Jane shot a quick glance at Clayton. "'It seems vastly more reasonable,' said Professor Porter. "'I do not agree with you,' objected Mr. Philander. "'He had ample opportunity to harm us himself or to lead his people against us. Instead, during our long residence here, he has been uniformly consistent in his role of protector and provider.' That is true,' interjected Clayton, yet we must not overlook the fact that except for himself the only human beings within hundreds of miles are savage cannibals. He was armed precisely as are they, which indicates that he has maintained relations of some nature with them, and the fact that he is but one against possibly thousands suggests that these relations could scarcely have been other than friendly. It seems improbable, then, that he is not connected with them,' remarked the Captain, "'possibly a member of this tribe.' "'Otherwise,' added another of the officers, how could he have lived the sufficient length of time among the savage denizens of the jungle, brute and human, to have become proficient in woodcraft or in the use of African weapons? "'You are judging him according to your own standards, gentlemen,' said Jane.  Rather a white man above the ordinary in physique and intelligence could never, I grant you, have lived a year alone and naked in this tropical jungle. But this man not only surpasses the average white man in strength and agility, but as far transcends our trained athletes and strong men as they surpass a day-old babe, and his courage and ferocity in battle are those of the wild beast.' "'He has certainly won a loyal champion, Miss Porter,' said Captain Defran, laughing. "'I am sure that there be none of us here but would willingly face death a hundred times in its most terrifying forms to deserve the tributes of one even half so loyal, or so beautiful.' "'You would not wonder that I defend him,' said the girl. "'Could you have seen him as I saw him, battling on my behalf with that huge hairy brute? Could you have seen him charge the monster as a bull might charge grisly? Absolutely without sign of fear or hesitation. You would have believed him more than human. Could you have seen those mighty muscles knotting under the brown skin? Could you have seen them force back those awful fangs? You too would have thought him invincible. And could you have seen the chivalrous treatment which he accorded a strange girl of a strange race? You would feel the same absolute confidence in him that I feel.' "'You have won your suit, my fair pleader,' cried the captain. This court finds the defendant not guilty, and the cruiser shall wait a few days longer that he may have an opportunity to come and thank the divine Porsche.' "'For the Lord's sake, honey,' cried Esmerelda. "'You all don't mean to tell me that you're going to stay right here in this land of carnivorable animals? When you all got the opportunity to escapade on that boat, don't you tell me that, honey?' "'Why, Esmerelda, you should be ashamed of yourself,' cried Jane. "'Is this any way to show your gratitude to the man who saved your life? Twice?' "'Well, Miss Jane, that's all just, as you say, but that their force man never did save us to stay here. He done save us so we could all get away from here. I expect he be mighty peevish when he find we ain't got no more sense than to stay right here after he done give us the chance to get away. I hoped I'd never have to sleep in this here geological garden another night, and listened to all them lonesome noises that come out of that jumble after dark.  I never have been able to find the right word for them, but that's it, don't you know? Lonesome noises.' "'You and Esmerelda have better go and live on the cruiser,' said Jane, in fine scorn. What would you think if you had to live all of your life in that jungle as our forest man has done?' "'I'm afraid I'd be a blooming bounder as a wild man,' laughed Clayton ruefully. Those noises at night make the hair on my head bristle. I suppose that I should be ashamed to admit it, but it's the truth.' "'I don't know about that,' said Lieutenant Charpentier. I never thought much about fear and that sort of thing. I never tried to determine whether I was a coward or brave man, but the other night, as we lay in the jungle there after poor Tarnot was taken, and those jungle noises rose and fell around us, I began to think that I was a coward indeed. It was not the roaring and growling of the big beast that affected me so much as it was the stealthy noises, the ones that you heard suddenly close by, and then listened vainly for a repetition of, the unaccountable sounds as of a great body moving almost noiselessly, and the knowledge that you didn't know how close it was, or whether it was creeping closer after you ceased to hear it. It was those noises, and the eyes. Monde, dear, I shall see them in the dark for ever. The eyes that you see, and those that you don't see, but feel, ah, they are the worst.' All were silent for a moment, and then Jane spoke. And he is out there, she said in an awe-hushed whisper. Those eyes will be glaring at him tonight, and at your comrade Lieutenant Tarnot. Can you leave them, gentlemen, without at least rendering them the passive sucker which remaining here a few days longer might ensure them? Tut, tut, child, said Professor Porter. Captain Dufran is willing to remain, and for my part I am perfectly willing, perfectly willing, as I have always been to humor your childish whims. We can utilize the morrow in recovering the chest, Professor, suggested Mr. Flandre. It so, quite so, Mr. Flandre, I had almost forgotten the treasure, exclaimed Professor Porter. Possibly we can borrow some men from Captain Dufran to assist us, and one of the prisoners to point out the location of the chest. Most assuredly, my dear Professor, we are all yours to command, said the Captain. And so it was arranged that on the next day Lieutenant Charpentier was to take a detail of ten men, and one of the mutineers of the arrow as a guide, and unearth the treasure, and that the cruiser would remain for a full week in the little harbor. At the end of that time it was to be assumed that Darno was truly dead, and that the forest man would not return while they remained. Then the two vessels were to leave with all the party. Professor Porter did not accompany the treasure-seekers on the following day, but when he saw them returning empty-handed toward noon, he hastened forward to meet them. His usual preoccupied indifference entirely vanished, and in its place a nervous and excited manner. Where is the treasure? he cried to Clayton, while yet a hundred feet separated them. Clayton shook his head. Gone, he said, as he neared the Professor. Gone! It cannot be! Who could have taken it? cried Professor Porter. Not only knows, Professor, replied Clayton.  But who could have taken it? repeated Professor Porter. One might naturally fall on the men of the cruiser, said Lieutenant Charpentier, but for the fact that sublutinette Jean-Vierre here assures me that no men had had shore-leave, that none has been on shore since we anchored here except under command of an officer. I do not know that you would suspect our men, but I am glad that there is now no chance for suspicion to fall on them, he concluded. It would never have occurred to me to suspect the men to whom we owe so much, replied Professor Porter graciously. I would as soon suspect my dear Clayton here, or Mr. Philander. The Frenchman smiled, both officers and sailors, it was plain to see that a burden had been lifted from their minds. The treasure has been gone for some time, continued Clayton. In fact the body fell apart as we lifted it, which indicates that whoever removed the treasure did so while the corpse was still fresh, for it was intact when we first uncovered it. There must have been several in the party, said Jane, who had joined them. You remember that it took four men to carry it. By Joe, cried Clayton, that's right, it must have been done by a party of blacks. Probably one of them saw the men bury the chest and then returned immediately after with the party of his friends and carried it off. Jane is futile, said Professor Porter sadly. The chest is gone. We shall never see it again, nor the treasure that was in it. Only Jane knew what the loss meant to her father, and none there knew what it meant to her. Six days later Captain Dufraun announced that they would sail early on the morrow. Jane would have begged for a further reprieve had it not been that she too had begun to believe that her forest lover would return no more. In spite of herself she began to entertain doubts and fears. The reasonableness of the arguments of these disinterested French officers commenced to convince her against her will. That he was a cannibal she would not believe, but that he was an adoptive member of some savage tribe at length seemed possible to her. She would not admit that he could be dead. It was impossible to believe that that perfect body, so filled with triumphant life, could ever cease to harbor the vital spark, as soon believed that immortality were dust. As Jane permitted herself to harbor these thoughts, others equally unwelcome forced themselves upon her. If he belonged to some savage tribe he had a savage wife, a dozen of them perhaps, and wild half-caste children. The girl shuddered, and when they told her that the cruiser would sail on the moral she was almost glad. It was she, though, who suggested that arms, ammunition, supplies, and comforts be left behind in the cabin, ostensibly for that intangible personality who had signed himself Tarzan of the Apes, and for Darno should he still be living, but really she hoped, for her forest god, even though his feet should prove of clay. At the last minute she left a message for him, to be transmitted by Tarzan of the Apes. She was the last to leave the cabin, returning on some trivial pretext after the others had started for the boat. She kneeled down beside the bed in which she had spent so many nights, and offered up a prayer for the safety of her primeval man, and crushing his locket to her lips she murmured, I love you, and because I love you I believe in you. But if I did not believe, still should I love.  End of chapter. Chapter 25 of Tarzan of the Apes. This is a Librebox recording. All Librebox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librebox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 25 The Outpost of the World. With report of his gun, Darno saw the door fly open, and the figure of a man pitch headlong within onto the cabin floor. The Frenchman in his panic raised his gun to fire again into the prostrate form, but suddenly in the half dusk of the open door he saw that the man was white, and in another instant realized that he had shot his friend and protector, Tarzan of the Apes.  There was no response. And then Darno placed his ear above the man's heart. To his joy he heard it steady beating beneath. Carefully he lifted Tarzan to the cot, and then, after closing and bolting the door, he lighted one of the lamps and examined the wound. The bullet had struck a glancing blow upon the skull.  Darno breathed a sigh of relief, and went about bathing the blood from Tarzan's face. Even the cool water revived him, and presently he opened his eyes to look in questioning surprise at Darno. The latter had bound the wound with pieces of cloth, and as he saw that Tarzan had regained consciousness, he arose and going to the table wrote a message, which he handed to the ape man, explaining the terrible mistake he had made and how thankfully was that the wound was not more serious. Tarzan, after reading the message, sat on the edge of the couch and laughed. It is nothing, he said in French, and then his vocabulary failing him. He wrote, You should have seen what Volgani did to me, and Kerchak, and Tarkoos before I killed them. Then you would laugh at such a little scratch. Darno handed Tarzan the two messages that had been left for him. Tarzan read the first one through with a look of sorrow on his face. The second one he turned over and over, searching for an opening, he had never seen a sealed envelope before. At length he handed it to Darno. The Frenchman had been watching him, and knew that Tarzan was puzzled over the envelope. How strange it seemed that to a full-grown white man an envelope was a mystery. Darno opened it and handed the letter back to Tarzan. Sitting on a camp stool, the ape man spread the written sheet before him and read, To Tarzan of the apes. Before I leave let me add my thanks to those of Mr. Clayton for the kindness you have shown in permitting us the use of your cabin. That you never came to make friends with us has been a great regret to us. We should have liked so much to have seen and thanked our host. There is another I should like to thank also, but he did not come back, though I cannot believe that he is dead. I do not know his name.  If you know him and can speak his language, carry my thanks to him, and tell him that I waited seven days for him to return. Tell him also that in my home in America, in the city of Baltimore, there will always be a welcome for him if he cares to come. I found a note you wrote me lying among the leaves beneath the tree near the cabin. I do not know how you learn to love me, who have never spoken to me, and I am very sorry if it is true, for I have already given my heart to another. But know that I am always your friend, Jane Porter. Tarzan sat with Gaze fixed upon the floor for nearly an hour. It was evident to him from the notes that they did not know that he and Tarzan of the apes were one and the same. I have given my heart to another. He repeated over and over again to himself. Then she did not love him. How could she have pretended love, and raised him to such a pinnacle of hope only to cast him down to such utter depths of despair? Maybe her kisses were only signs of friendship. How did he know, who knew nothing of the customs of human beings? Finally he arose, and bidding Darneau good night as he had learned to do, threw himself upon the couch of ferns that had been Jane Porter's. Darneau extinguished the lamp and lay down upon the cot. For a week they did little but rest, Darneau coaching Tarzan in French. At the end of that time the two men could converse quite easily. One night as they were sitting within the cabin before retiring, Tarzan turned to Darneau. Where is America? he said. Darneau pointed toward the northwest. Maybe thousands of miles across the ocean, he replied. Why? I am going there. Darneau shook his head. It is impossible, my friend, he said. Tarzan rose, and going to one of the cupboards, returned with a well-thumbed geography. Turning to a map of the world he said, I have never quite understood all this. Explain it to me, please. When Darneau had done so, showing him that the blue represented all the water on the earth, and the bits of other colors, the continents and islands, Tarzan asked him to point out the spot where they now were. Darneau did so. Now point out America, said Tarzan. And as Darneau placed his finger upon North America, Darneau then smiled, and laid his palm upon the page, spanning the great ocean that lay between the two continents. You see, it is not so very far, he said. Scarce the width of my hand! Darneau laughed. How could he make the man understand? Then he took a pencil and made a tiny point upon the shore of Africa. Dece little mark, he said, is many times larger upon this map than your cabin is upon the earth. Do you see now how very far it is? Tarzan thought for a long time. Do any white men live in Africa? He asked. Yes. Where are the nearest? Darneau pointed out a spot on the shore just north of them. So close! Asked Tarzan in surprise. Yes, said Darneau. But he is not close. Are they big boats to cross the ocean? Yes. We shall go there tomorrow, announced Tarzan. Again Darneau smiled and shook his head. It is too far. We should die long before we reach them. Do you wish to stay here then forever? Asked Tarzan. No, said Darneau. Then we shall start tomorrow. I do not like it here longer. I should rather die than remain here. Wait a little, answered Darneau with a shrug. I do not know, my friend, but that I also would rather die than remain here. If you go, I shall go with you. It is settled then, said Tarzan. I shall start for America tomorrow. How will you get to America without money? asked Darneau. What is money? inquired Tarzan. It took a long time to make him understand even imperfectly. How do men get money? he asked at last. They work for it. Very well. I will work for it then. No, my friend, returned Darneau. You need not worry about money, nor need you work for it. I have enough money for two, enough for twenty. Much more than is good for one man, and you shall have all you need if ever we reach civilization. So on the following day they started north along the shore, each man carrying a rifle and ammunition, besides bedding and some food and cooking utensils. The latter seemed to Tarzan amose, useless in cumbrance, so he threw his away. What you must learn to eat cooked food, my friend, remonstrated Darneau, knows civilized men eat raw flesh. There will be time enough when I reach civilization, said Tarzan. I do not like the things, and they only spoil the taste of good meat. For a month they traveled north, sometimes finding food in plenty, and again going hungry for days. They saw no signs of natives, nor were they molested by wild beasts. Their journey was a miracle of ease. Tarzan asked questions and learned rapidly. Darneau taught him many of the refinements of civilization, even to the use of knife and fork, but sometimes Tarzan would drop them in disgust and grasp his food in his strong brown hands, tearing it with his molars like a wild beast.  Mon Dieu, gentlemen, do not thus. It is terrible. Tarzan would grin sheepishly and pick up his knife and fork again, but at heart he hated them. On the journey he told Darneau about the great chest he had seen the sailors bury, of how he had dug it up and carried it to the gathering place of the apes and buried it there. It must be the treasure chest of Professor Porter, said Darneau. It is too bad, but of course you did not know. Then Tarzan recalled the letter written by Jane to her friend, the one he had stolen when they first came to his cabin, and now he knew what was in the chest and what it meant to Jane. Tomorrow we shall go back after it, he announced to Darneau. Go back, exclaimed Darneau, but my dear fellow, we have now been three weeks upon the march. It would require three more to return to the treasure, and then with that enormous weight which required, you say, four sailors to carry, it would be months before we had again reached this spot. It must be done, my friend, insisted Tarzan. You may go on toward civilization, and I will return for the treasure. I can go very much faster alone. I have a better plan, Tarzan, exclaimed Darneau. We shall go on together to the nearest settlement, and there we will charter a boat and sail back down the coast for the treasure, and so transport it easily. That will be safer and quicker, and also not require us to be separated. What do you think of that plan? Very well, said Tarzan. The treasure will be there whenever we go for it, and while I could fetch it now, and catch up with you in a moon or two, I shall feel safer for you to know that you are not alone on the trail. When I see how helpless you are, Darneau, I often wonder how the human race has escaped annihilation all these ages which you tell me about. Why, Sabor, single-handed, could exterminate a thousand of you. Darneau laughed. You will think more highly of your genus when you have seen its armies and navies, its great cities, and its mighty engineering works. Then you will realize that it is mind and not muscle that makes the human animal greater than the mighty beasts of your jungle. Alone and unarmed, a single man is no match for any of the larger beasts, but if ten men were together they would combine their wits and their muscles against their savage enemies, while the beasts, being unable to reason, would never think of combining against the men. Otherwise, Tarzan of the apes, how long would you have lasted in the savage wilderness? You are right, Darneau, replied Tarzan, for if Kerchak had come to Tublat's aid that night at the dum-dum, there would have been an end of me. But Kerchak could never think far enough ahead to take advantage of any such opportunity. Even Kayla, my mother, could never plan ahead. She simply ate what she needed when she needed it. And if the supply was very scarce, even though she found plenty for several meals, she would never gather any ahead. I remember that she used to think it very silly of me to burden myself with extra food upon the march, though she was quite glad to eat it with me if the way chanced to be barren of sustenance. Then you knew your mother, Tarzan? asked Darneau in surprise. Yes, she was a great fine ape, larger than I, and weighing twice as much. And your father? asked Darneau. I did not know him. Kayla told me he was a white ape and hairless like myself. I know now that he must have been a white man. Darneau looked long and earnestly at his companion. Tarzan, he said at length, it is impossible that the ape Kayla was your mother. If such a thing can be, which I doubt, you would have inherited some of the characteristics of the ape. But you have not. You are pure man, and I should say, the offspring of highly bred and intelligent parents. Have you not the slightest clue to your past? Not the slightest, replied Tarzan. No writings in the cabin that might have told something of the lives of its original inmates? I have read everything that was in the cabin with the exception of one book, which I know now to be written in a language other than English. Possibly you can read it. Tarzan fished the little black diary from the bottom of his quiver and handed it to his companion. Darneau glanced at the title page. It is the diary of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, an English nobleman, and it is written in French, he said. Then he proceeded to read the diary that had been written over twenty years before, and which recorded the details of the story which we already know. The story of adventure, hardships, and sorrow of John Clayton and his wife Alice, from the day they left England until an hour before he was struck down by Khrtchak. Darneau read aloud. At times his voice broke, and he was forced to stop reading for the pitiful hopelessness that spoke between the lines. Only he glanced at Tarzan, but the eight men sat upon his haunches like a carbon image, his eyes fixed upon the ground. Only when the little babe was mentioned did the tone of the diary alter from the habitual note of despair which crept into it by degrees after the first two months upon the shore. Then the passages were tinged with a subdued happiness that was even sadder than the rest. One entry showed an almost hopeful spirit.  He is sitting in Alice's lap beside the table where I am writing. A happy, healthy, perfect child. Somehow, even against all reason, I seemed to see him a grown man, taking his father's place in the world, the second John Clayton, and bringing added honors to the house of Greystoke. There, as though to give my prophecy the weight of his endorsement, he has grabbed my pen in his chubby fists, and with his ink-begrime little fingers has placed the seal of his tiny fingerprints upon the page. And there, on the margin of the page, were the partially blurred imprints of four wee fingers and the outer half of the thumb. When Darno had finished the diary the two men sat in silence for some minutes. Well, Tarzan of the Apes, what thank you, asked Darno. Does not this little book clear up the mystery of your parentage? Why, man, you are Lord Greystoke! The book speaks of but one child, he replied. Its little skeleton lay in the crib, where it died crying for nourishment, from the first time I entered the cabin until Professor Porter's party buried it with its father and mother beside the cabin. No, that was the babe the book speaks of, and the mystery of my origin is deeper than before, for I have thought much of late of the possibility of that cabin having been my birthplace. I am afraid that Kayla spoke the truth, he concluded, sadly. Darno shook his head. He was unconvinced, and in his mind had sprung the determination to prove the correctness of his theory, for he had discovered the key which alone could unlock the mystery, or can sign it forever to the realms of the unfathomable. A week later the two men came suddenly upon a clearing in the forest. In the distance were several buildings surrounded by a strong palisade. Between them and the enclosure stretched a cultivated field in which a number of negroes were working. The two halted at the edge of the jungle. Tarzan fitted his bow with a poisoned arrow, but Darno placed a hand upon his arm. What would you do, Tarzan? he asked. They will try to kill us if they see us, replied Tarzan. I prefer to be the killer. Maybe they are friends, suggested Darno. They are black, was Tarzan's only reply. And again he drew back his shaft. You must not, Tarzan, cried Darno. White men do not kill wantonly. Oh, dear, but you have much to learn. I pity the ruffian who crosses you, my wild man. When I take you to Paris, I will have my hands full keeping your neck from beneath the guillotine. Tarzan lowered his bow and smiled.  Suppose Numa the lion should spring out upon us. I should say then, I presume. Good morning, Monsieur Numa. How is Madame Numa, eh? Wait until the blacks spring upon you, replied Darno. Then you may kill them. Do not assume that men are your enemies until they prove it. Come, said Tarzan, let us go and present ourselves to be killed. And he started straight across the field, his head held high and the tropical sun beating upon his smooth brown skin. And him came Darno, clothed in some garments which have been discarded at the cabin by Clayton when the officers of the French cruiser had fitted him out in more presentable fashion. Presently one of the blacks looked up and, beholding Tarzan, turned shrieking toward the palisade. In an instant the air was filled with cries of terror from the fleeing gardeners, but before any had reached the palisade a white man emerged from the enclosure, rifle in hand, to discover the cause of the emotion. What he saw brought his rifle to his shoulder, and Tarzan of the apes would have felt cold-lead once again had not Darno cried loudly to the man with the leveled gun, Do not fire, we are friends! Halt then, was the reply. Stop, Tarzan, cried Darno. He thinks we are enemies. Tarzan dropped into a walk, and together he and Darno advanced toward the white man by the gate. The latter eyed them and puzzled bewilderment. What manner of men are you, he asked in French. White men, replied Darno, we have been lost in the jungle for a long time. The man had lowered his rifle and now advanced without stretched hand. I am Father Constantine of the French mission here, he said, and I am glad to welcome you. This is Monsieur Tarzan, Father Constantine, replied Darno, indicating the ape-man, and as the priest extended his hand to Tarzan, Darno added, and I am Paul Darno of the French Navy. Father Constantine took the hand which Tarzan extended in imitation of the priest's act, while the latter took in the superb physique and handsome face in one quick keen glance, and thus came Tarzan of the apes to the first outpost of civilization. For a week they remained there, and the ape-man, keenly observant, learned much of the ways of men, meanwhile black women sowed white duck garments for himself and Darno, so that they might continue their journey properly clothed. Chapter 26 of Tarzan of the apes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tarzan of the apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 26 The height of civilization. Another month brought them to a little group of buildings at the mouth of a wide river, and there Tarzan saw many boats, and was filled with the timidity of the wild thing by the sight of many men. Gradually he became accustomed to the strange noises and the odd ways of civilization, so that presently none might know that, two short months before, this handsome Frenchman in immaculate white ducks, who laughed and chatted with the gayest of them, had been swinging naked through primeval forests to pounce upon some unwary victim, which, raw, was to fill his savage belly. The knife and fork so contemptuously flung aside a month before, Tarzan now manipulated as exquisitely as did the polished Darno. So apt a pupil had he been, that the young Frenchman had labored assiduously to make of Tarzan of the apes a polished gentleman insofar as nicety of manners and speech were concerned. God has made you a gentleman at heart, my friend, Darno had said. But we want his works to show upon the exterior also. As soon as they had reached the little port, Darno had cabled his government of his safety and requested a three-month leave, which had been granted. He had also cabled his bankers for funds, and the enforced weight of a month under which both chafed was due to their inability to charter a vessel for the return to Tarzan's jungle after the treasure. During their stay at the coast town, Monsieur Tarzan became the wonder of both whites and blacks because of several occurrences which to Tarzan seemed the nearest of nothings. Once a huge black, crazed by drink, had run amuck and terrorized the town, until his evil star had led him to where the black-haired French giant lulled upon the veranda of the hotel. Mounting the broad steps, with brandish knife, the negro made straight for a party of four men sitting at a table, sipping the inevitable absinthe. Shouting in alarm the four took to their heels, and then the black spied Tarzan. With a roar he charged the eight men, while half a hundred heads peered from sheltering windows and doorways to witness the butchering of the poor Frenchmen by the giant black. Tarzan met the rush with the fighting smile that the joy of battle always brought to his lips. As the negro closed upon him, steel muscles gripped the black wrist of the uplifted knife-hand, and a single swift wrench left the hand dangling below a broken bone. With the pain and surprise, the madness left the black man, and as Tarzan dropped back into his chair, the fellow turned, crying with agony, and dashed wildly toward the native village. On another occasion, as Tarzan and Darno sat at dinner with a number of other whites, the talk fell upon lions and lion hunting. Opinion was divided as to the bravery of the king of beasts, some maintaining that he was an errant coward, but all agreeing that it was with a feeling of greater security that they gripped their express rifles when the monarch of the jungle roared about a camp at night. Darno and Tarzan had agreed that his past be kept secret, and so none other than the French officer knew of the ape-man's familiarity with the beasts of the jungle. "'Miss Tarzan has not expressed himself,' said one of the party. A man of his prowess who has spent some time in Africa, as I understand Miss Tarzan has, must have had experiences with lions. Yes?' "'Some,' replied Tarzan dryly, "'enough to know that each of you are right in your judgment of the characteristics of the lions you have met. But one might as well judge all blacks by the fellow who ran amok last week, or decide that all whites are cowards because one has met a cowardly white. There is as much individually among the lower orders, gentlemen, as there is among ourselves. Today we may go out and stumble upon a lion which is over-timid. He runs away from us. Tomorrow we may meet his uncle or his twin brother, and our friends wonder why we do not return from the jungle. For myself I always assume that a lion is ferocious, and so I am never caught off my guard.' "'There would be little pleasure in hunting,' retorted the first speaker, if one is afraid of the thing he hunts.' Darno smiled. Tarzan afraid. "'I do not exactly understand what you mean by fear,' said Tarzan. "'Like lions, fear is a different thing in different men. But to me the only pleasure in the hunt is the knowledge that the hunted thing has power to harm me as much as I have to harm him. If I went out with a couple of rifles and a gun-bearer and twenty or thirty beaters to hunt a lion, I should not feel that the lion had much chance, and so the pleasure of the hunt would be lessened in proportion to the increased safety which I felt.  Laughed the other, good-naturedly, but with the merest touch of sarcasm in his tone. "'And a piece of rope,' added Tarzan. And then the deep roar of a lion sounded from the distant jungle, as though to challenge whoever dared entered the lists with him. "'There is your opportunity, Mr. Tarzan,' bantered the Frenchman. "'I am not hungry,' said Tarzan simply. The men laughed, all but Darneau. He alone knew that a savage beast had spoken its simple reason through the lips of the ape-man. But you are afraid, just as any of us would be, to go out there naked.  "'Is it not so?' "'No,' replied Tarzan.  "'I wager that amount.  Tarzan glanced toward Darneau and nodded his head. "'Make it ten thousand,' said Darneau. "'Done,' replied the other. Tarzan arose. "'I shall have to leave my clothes at the edge of the settlement, so that if I do not return before daylight I shall have something to wear through the streets.' "'You are not going now,' exclaimed the wagerer. "'At night?' "'Why not?' asked Tarzan. Numo walks abroad at night. It will be easier to find him.' "'No,' said the other. "'I do not want your blood upon my hands. It will be foolhardy enough if you go forth by day.' "'I shall go now,' replied Tarzan, and went to his room for his knife and rope. The men accompanied him to the edge of the jungle, where he left his clothes in a small store-house. But when he would have entered the blackness of the undergrowth they tried to dissuade him, and the wagerer was most insistent of all that he abandon his full-hearty venture. "'I will exceed that you have won,' he said, and the ten thousand francs are yours if you will but give up this foolish attempt which can only end in your death.' Tarzan laughed, and in another moment the jungle had swallowed him. The men stood silent for some moments and then slowly turned and walked back to the hotel veranda. Tarzan had no sooner entered the jungle than he took to the trees, and it was with a feeling of exultant freedom that he swung once more through the forest branches. This was life. Ah! How he loved it! Civilization held nothing like this in its narrow and circumscribed sphere, hem dimmed by restrictions and conventionalities. Even clothes were a hindrance and a nuisance. At last he was free. He had not realized what a prisoner he had been. How easy it would be to circle back to the coast and then make toward the south and his own jungle and cabin! Now he caught the scent of Numa, for he was traveling upwind. Presently his quick ears detected the familiar sound of padded feet and the brushing of a huge fur-clad body through the undergrowth. Tarzan came quietly above the unsuspecting beast and silently stalked him until he came into a little patch of moonlight. Then the quick noose settled and tightened around the tawny throat. And as he had done it a hundred times in the past, Tarzan made fast the end to a strong branch, and while the beast fought and clawed for freedom, dropped to the ground behind him, and leaping upon the great back plunged his long thin blade a dozen times into the fierce heart. Even with his foot upon the carcass of Numa, he raised his voice in the awesome victory cry of his savage tribe. For a moment Tarzan stood irresolute, swayed by conflicting emotions of loyalty to Darno, and a mighty lust for the freedom of his own jungle. At last the vision of a beautiful face and the memory of warm lips crushed to his dissolved the fascinating picture he had been drawing of his old life. The eight-man threw the warm carcass of Numa across his shoulders and took to the trees once more. The men upon the veranda had sat for an hour, almost in silence. They had tried ineffectually to converse on various subjects, and always the thing uppermost in the mind of each had caused the conversation to lapse. Monde, said the wagerer at length, I can endure it no longer. I am going into the jungle with my express and bring back that madman. I will go with you, said one. And I, and I, and I, coursed the others. As though the suggestion had broken the spell of some horrid nightmare, they hastened to their various quarters, and presently were headed toward the jungle, each one heavily armed. God, what was that? Suddenly cried one of the party, an Englishman, as Tarzan's savage cry came faintly to their ears. I heard the same thing once before, said a Belgian. When I was in the guerrilla country, my carrier said it was the cry of a great bull ape who has made a kill. D'Arnaud remembered Clayton's description of the awful roar with which Tarzan had announced his kills, and he half smiled in spite of the horror, which filled him to think that the uncanny sound could have issued from a human throat from the lips of his friend. As the party stood finally near the edge of the jungle, debating as to the best distribution of their forces, they were startled by a low laugh near them, and turning, beheld advancing toward them a giant figure bearing a dead lion upon its broad shoulders. Even D'Arnaud was thunderstruck, for it seemed impossible that the man could have so quickly dispatched a lion with the pitiful weapons he had taken, or that alone he could have borne the huge carcass through the tangled jungle. The men crowded about Tarzan with many questions, but his only answer was a laughing deprecation of his feet. To Tarzan it was as though one should eulogize a butcher for his heroism in killing a cow, for Tarzan had killed so often for food and for self-preservation that the axe seemed anything but remarkable to him. But he was indeed a hero in the eyes of these men, men accustomed to hunting big game. Incidentally he had won ten thousand francs, for D'Arnaud insisted that he keep it all. This was a very important item to Tarzan, who was just commencing to realize the power which lay beyond the little pieces of metal and paper which always changed hands when human beings rode, or ate, or slept, or clothed themselves, or drank or worked or played, or sheltered themselves from the rain or cold or sun. It had become evident to Tarzan that without money one must die. D'Arnaud had told him not to worry, since he had more than enough for both, but the eight men was learning many things, and one of them was that people looked down upon one who had accepted money from another without giving something of equal value in exchange. Shortly after the episode of The Lion Hunt, D'Arnaud succeeded in chartering an ancient tub for the coast-wise trip to Tarzan's landlocked harbor. It was a happy morning for them both when the little vessel weighed anchor and made for the open sea. The trip to the beach was uneventful, and the morning after they dropped anchor before the cabin, Tarzan, garbed once more in his jungle regalia and carrying a spade, set out alone for the amphitheater of the apes where lay the treasure. At the next day he returned, bearing the great chest upon his shoulder, and at sunrise the little vessel worked through the harbor's mouth and took up her northward journey. Three weeks later Tarzan and D'Arnaud were passengers on board a French steamer born for Lyon, and after a few days in that city, D'Arnaud took Tarzan to Paris. The eight men was anxious to proceed to America, but D'Arnaud insisted that he must accompany him to Paris first, nor would he divulge the nature of the urgent necessity upon which he based his demand. One of the first things which D'Arnaud accomplished after their arrival was to arrange to visit a high official of the police department, an old friend, and to take Tarzan with him. Adroitly D'Arnaud led the conversation from point to point until the policemen had explained to the interested Tarzan many of the methods in vogue for apprehending and identifying criminals. What the least interesting to Tarzan was the part played by fingerprints in this fascinating science. But of what value are these imprints, asked Tarzan, when after a few years the lines upon the fingers are entirely changed by the wearing out of the old tissue and the growth of new? The zealines never change, replied the official, from infancy to senility the fingerprints of an individual change only in size, except as injuries alter the loops and whirls. But if imprints have been taken of the thumb and four fingers of both hands, one must need lose all entirely to escape identification. It is marvelous, exclaimed D'Arnaud. I wonder what the lines upon my own fingers may resemble. We can soon see, replied the police officer, and ringing a bell he summoned an assistant to whom he issued a few directions. The man left the room but presently returned with a little hardwood box which he placed on his superior's desk.  He drew from the little case a square of plate glass, a little tube of thick ink, a rubber roller, and a few snowy white cards. Squeezing a drop of ink onto the glass, he spread it back and forth with a rubber roller until the entire surface of the glass was coated to his satisfaction with a very thin and uniform layer of ink. Place the four fingers of your right hand upon the glass, thus, he said to D'Arnaud, now the thumb. That is right. Now place them in just the same position upon this card. Here no, a little to the right. We must leave room for the thumb and the fingers of the left hand. There, that's it. Now the same with the left. Come, Tarzan, cried D'Arnaud. Let's see what your whorls look like. Tarzan complied readily, asking many questions of the officer during the operation. Do fingerprints show racial characteristics? He asked. Could you determine, for example, solely from fingerprints whether the subject was Negro or Caucasian? I think not, replied the officer. Could the fingerprints of an ape be detected from those of a man? Probably, because the apes would be far simpler than those of the higher organism. But a cross between an ape and a man might show the characteristics of either progenitor continued Tarzan. Yes, I should think likely, responded the official. But the science has not progressed sufficiently to render it exact enough in such matters. I should hate to trust its findings further than to differentiate between individuals. There it is absolute.  It is very doubtful if any single fingerprint will ever be exactly duplicated by any finger other than the one which originally made it. Does the comparison require much time or labor? asked Darneau. Ordinarily, but a few moments, if the impressions are distinct. Darneau drew a little black book from his pocket and commenced turning the pages. Tarzan looked at the book in surprise. How did Darneau come to have his book? Presently Darneau stopped at a page on which were five tiny little smudges. He handed the open book to the policemen. Are these imprints similar to mine or Mr. Tarzan's, or can you say that they are identical with either? The officer drew a powerful glass from his desk and examined all three specimens carefully, making notations meanwhile upon a pad of paper. Tarzan realized now what was the meaning of their visit to the police officer. The answer to his life's riddle lay in these tiny marks. With tense nerves he sat leaning forward in his chair, but suddenly he relaxed and dropped back, smiling. Darneau looked at him in surprise. You forget that for twenty years the dead body of the child who made those fingerprints lay in the cabin of his father and that all my life I have seen it lying there, said Tarzan bitterly. The policeman looked up in astonishment.  We will tell you the story later, provided Mr. Tarzan is agreeable. Tarzan nodded his head. But you are mad, my dear Darneau, he insisted. Those little fingers are buried on the west coast of Africa. I do not know as to that, Tarzan, replied Darneau. It is possible, but if you are not the son of John Clayton, then how in heaven's name did you come into that God-forsaken jungle where no white man other than John Clayton had ever sat foot? You forget, Kayla, said Tarzan. I do not even consider her, replied Darneau. The friends had walked to the broad window overlooking the boulevard as they talked, for some time they stood there gazing out upon the busy throng beneath, each wrapped in his own thoughts. It takes some time to compare fingerprints, thought Darneau, turning to look at the police officer. To his astonishment he saw the official leaning back in his chair, hastily scanning the contents of the little black diary. Darneau coughed. The policeman looked up, and catching his eye, raised his finger to admonish silence. Darneau turned back to the window, and presently the police officer spoke. Gentlemen, he said, both turned toward him. There is evidently a great deal at stake which must hinge to a greater or lesser extent upon the absolute correctness of this comparison. I therefore ask that you leave the entire matter in my hands until Monsieur des Caresques, our expert, returns. It will be but a matter of a few days. I had hoped to know at once, said Darneau, Monsieur Tarzan sales for America to-morrow. I will promise that you can cable him a report within two weeks, replied the officer. But what it will be I dare not say. There are resemblances, yet, well, we had better leave it for Monsieur des Caresques to solve. CHAPTER 27 THE GIANT AGAIN A taxi cab drew up before an old-fashioned residence upon the outskirts of Baltimore. A man of about forty, well-built and with strong, regular features, stepped out, and paying the chauffeur dismissed him. A moment later the passenger was entering the library of the old home. Ah! Mr. Candler exclaimed an old man rising to greet him. Good evening, my dear professor! cried the man, extending a cordial hand. Who admitted you, asked the professor. Esmeralda! Then she will acquaint Jane with the fact that you are here, said the old man. No, professor, replied Candler, for I came primarily to see you. Ah! I am honoured, said Professor Porter. Professor continued Robert Candler with great deliberation, as though carefully weighing his words. I have come this evening to speak with you about Jane. You know my aspirations, and you have been generous enough to approve my suit. Professor Archimedes Q. Porter fidgeted in his armchair. The subject always made him uncomfortable. He could not understand why. Candler was a splendid match. But Jane continued Candler, I cannot understand her. She puts me off first on one ground and then another. I have always the feeling that she breathes a sigh of relief every time I bid her good-bye. Tut, tut, said Professor Porter. Tut, tut, Mr. Candler. Jane is a most obedient daughter. She will do precisely as I tell her. Then I can still count on your support, asked Candler a tone of relief marking his voice. Certainly, sir, certainly, sir, exclaimed Professor Porter. How could you doubt it? There is young Clayton, you know, suggests to Candler. He has been hanging about for months. I don't know that Jane cares for him, but beside his title they say he has inherited a very considerable estate from his father, and it might not be strange if he finally won her unless—and Candler paused. Tut, tut, Mr. Candler, unless what? Yes, you see fit to request that Jane and I be married at once, said Candler slowly and distinctly. I have already suggested to Jane that it would be desirable, said Professor Porter, sadly, for we can no longer afford to keep up this house and live as her associations demand. What was her reply, asked Candler. She said she was not ready to marry any one yet, replied Professor Porter, and that we could go and live upon the farm in northern Wisconsin which her mother left her. It is a little more than self-supporting. The tenants have always made a living from it, and been able to send Jane a trifle beside each year, as she is planning on our going up there the first of the week. Flander and Mr. Clayton have already gone to get things in readiness for us. Clayton has gone there, exclaimed Candler visibly chagrined. Why was I not told? I would gladly have gone and seen that every comfort was provided. Jane feels that we are already too much in your debt, Mr. Candler, said Professor Porter. Candler was about to reply when the sound of footsteps came from the hall without, and Jane entered the room. Oh, I beg your pardon, she exclaimed, pausing on the threshold. I thought you were alone, Papa. It is only I, Jane, said Candler, who had risen. Won't you come in and join the family group? We were just speaking of you. Thank you, said Jane, entering and taking the chair. Candler placed for her. I only wanted to tell Papa that Toby is coming down from the college to-morrow to pack his books. I want you to be sure, Papa, to indicate all that you can do without until fall. Please don't carry this entire library to Wisconsin, as you would have carried it to Africa if I had not put my foot down. Was Toby here, as Professor Porter? Yes, I just left him. He and Esmeralda are exchanging religious experiences on the back porch now. Tutt, tutt, I must see him at once, cried the Professor.  And the old man hastened from the room. As soon as he was out of earshot Candler turned to Jane. See here, Jane, he said bluntly, how long is this thing going on like this? You haven't refused to marry me, but you haven't promised either. I want to get the license to-morrow, so that we can be married quietly before you leave for Wisconsin. I don't care for any fuss or feathers, and I'm sure you don't either. The girl turned cold, but she held her head bravely. Your father wishes it, you know, added Candler. Yes, I know. She spoke scarcely above a whisper. Do you realize that you are buying me, Mr. Candler? She said finally, and in a cold-level voice. Buying me for a few paltry dollars? Of course you do, Robert Candler, and the hope of just such a contingency was in your mind when you loaned Papa the money for that hairbrained escapade, which but for a most mysterious circumstance would have been surprisingly successful. But you, Mr. Candler, would have been the most surprised. You had no idea that the venture would succeed. You are too good a businessman for that. And you are too good a businessman to loan money for buried treasure seeking or to loan money without security, unless you had some special object in view. You knew that without security you had a greater hold on the honor of the porters than with it. You knew the one best way to force me to marry you without seeming to force me. You have never mentioned the loan. In any other man I should have thought that, the prompting of a magnanimous and noble character. But you are deep, Mr. Robert Candler. I know you better than you think I know you. I shall certainly marry you if there is no other way, but let us understand each other once and for all." While she spoke Robert Candler had alternately flushed and paled, and when she ceased speaking he arose and with a cynical smile upon his strong face said, You surprised me, Jane. I thought you had more self-control, more pride. Of course you are right. I am buying you, and I knew that you knew it, and I thought you would prefer to pretend that it was otherwise. I should have thought your self-respect and your poorer pride would have shrunk from admitting, even to yourself, that you were a bought woman. But have it your own way, dear girl, he added lightly. I'm going to have you, and that is all that interests me. Without a word the girl turned and left the room. Jane was not married before she left with her father and Esmeralda for her little Wisconsin farm, and as she coldly bid Robert Candler goodbye as her train pulled out, he called to her that he would join them in a week or two. At their destination they were met by Clayton and Mr. Philander in a huge touring car belonging to the former, and quickly whirled away through the dense northern woods towards the little farm which the girl had not visited before since childhood. The farmhouse, which stood on a little elevation some hundred yards from the tenant house, had undergone a complete transformation during the three weeks that Clayton and Mr. Philander had been there. The former had imported a small army of carpenters and plasterers, plumbers, and painters from a distant city, and what had been but a dilapidated shell when they reached it was now a cozy little two-story house filled with every modern convenience procurable in so short a time. Why, Mr. Clayton, what have you done? cried Jane Porter, her heart sinking within her as she realized the probable size of the expenditure that had been made. Sh! caution Clayton, don't let your father guess. If you don't tell him, then he will never notice, and I simply couldn't think of him living in the terrible squalor and sordidness which Mr. Philander and I found. It was so little when I would like to do so much, Jane, for his sake please never mention it. But you know that we can't repay you, cried the girl. Why do you want to put me under such terrible obligations? Don't, Jane, say Clayton, sadly. If it had been just you, believe me, I wouldn't have done it, for I knew from the start that it would only hurt me in your eyes, but I couldn't think of that dear old man living in the hole we found here. Won't you please believe that I did it just for him, and give me that little crumb of pleasure, at least? I do believe you, Mr. Clayton, said the girl, because I know you are big enough and generous enough to have done it just for him, and, oh, Cecil, I wish I might repay you as you deserve, as you would wish. Why can't you, Jane? Because I love another. Candler? No. But you are going to marry him. He told me as much before I left Baltimore. The girl winced. I do not love him, she said, almost proudly. Is it because of the money, Jane? She nodded. Then am I so much less desirable than Candler? I have money enough and far more for every need, he said bitterly. I do not love you, Cecil, she said, but I respect you. If I must disgrace myself by such a bargain with any man, I prefer that it be one I already despise. I should loathe the man to whom I sold myself without love, whom soever he might be. You will be happier, she concluded, alone with my respect and friendship, than with me and my contempt. He did not press the matter further. But if ever a man had murder in his heart it was William Cecil Clayton, Lord Greystoke, when, a week later, Robert Candler drew up before the farmhouse in his purring six-cylinder. A week passed, a tense, uneventful, but uncomfortable week for all the inmates of the little Wisconsin farmhouse. Candler was insistent that Jane marry him at once. At length she gave in from sheer loathing of the continued and hateful importuning. It was agreed that on the morrow Candler was to drive to town and bring back the license and a minister. Clayton had wanted to leave as soon as the plan was announced. But the girls' tired, hopeless look kept him. He could not desert her. Something might happen yet he tried to console himself by thinking, and in his heart he knew that it would require but a tiny spark to turn his hatred for Candler into the bloodlust of the killer. Maybe the next morning Candler set out for town. In the east smoke could be seen lying low over the forest, for a fire had been raging for a week not far from them, but the wind still lay in the west and no danger threatened them. About noon Jane started off for a walk. She would not let Clayton accompany her. She wanted to be alone, she said, and he respected her wishes. In the house Professor Porter and Mr. Flander were immersed in the absorbing discussion of some weighty scientific problem. As Moralda dozed in the kitchen, and Clayton, heavy-eyed after a sleepless night, threw himself down upon the couch in the living-room and soon dropped into a fitful slumber. To the east the black smoke clouds rose higher into the heavens. Suddenly they eddied, and then commenced to drift rapidly toward the west. On and on they came. The inmates of the tenant-house were gone, for it was market day, and none was there to see the rapid approach of the fiery demon. Soon the flames had spanned the road to the south and cut off Candler's return. A little fluctuation of the wind now carried the path of the forest fire to the north, then blew back and the flames nearly stood still as though held in leash by some master hand. Suddenly, out of the northeast a great black car came careening down the road. With a jolt it stopped before the cottage, and a black-haired giant leaped out to run up unto the porch. Without a pause he rushed into the house. On the couch lay Clayton. The man started in surprise, but with a bound was at the side of the sleeping man. Shaking him roughly by the shoulder he cried, My God, Clayton, are you all mad here?  Where is Miss Porter? Clayton sprang to his feet. He did not recognize the man, but he understood the words and was upon the veranda in a bound. Scott! he cried, and then dashing back into the house. Jane! Jane! Where are you? In an instant Esmeralda, Professor Porter and Mr. Philander had joined the two men. Where is Miss Jane? cried Clayton, seizing Esmeralda by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. Oh, Gabriel, Mr. Clayton, she dung home for a walk. Hasn't she come back yet? And without waiting for a reply, Clayton dashed out into the yard followed by the others. Which way did she go? cried the black-haired giant of Esmeralda. Down that road! cried the frightened woman, pointing toward the south where a mighty wall of roaring flames shut out the view. Put these people in the other car, shouted the stranger to Clayton. I saw one as I drove up, and get them out of here by the north road. Leave my car here. If I find Miss Porter, we shall need it. If I don't, no one will need it. Do as I say, as Clayton hesitated, and then he saw the live figure bound away across the clearing toward the northwest where the forest still stood, untouched by flame. In each rose the unaccountable feeling that a great responsibility had been raised from their shoulders, a kind of implicit confidence in the power of the stranger to save Jane if she could be saved. Who was that? asked Professor Porter. I do not know, replied Clayton. He called me by name, and he knew Jane, for he asked for her, and he called Esmeralda by name. There was something most startingly familiar about him, exclaimed Mr. Flander, and yet, bless me, I know I never saw him before. Tut, tut, cried Professor Porter. Most remarkable. Who could it have been, and why do I feel that Jane is safe now that he is set out in search of her? I can't tell you, Professor, said Clayton soberly, but I know I have the same uncanny feeling.  And the party hastened toward Clayton's car. When Jane turned to retrace her steps homeward, she was alarmed to note how near the stroke of the forest fire seemed, and as she hastened onward, her alarm became almost a panic when she perceived that the rushing flames were rapidly forcing their way between herself and the cottage. At length she was compelled to turn into the dense thicket and attempt to force her way to the west in an effort to circle around the flames and reach the house. In a short time the futility of her attempt became apparent, and that her one hope lay in retracing her steps to the road and flying for her life to the south toward the town. The twenty minutes that it took her to regain the road was all that had been needed to cut off her retreat as effectually as her advance had been cut off before. A short run down the road brought her to a horrified stand, for there before her was another wall of flame. An arm of the main conflagration had shot out a half-mile south of its parent to embrace this tiny strip of road in its implacable clutches. Jane knew that it was useless again to attempt to force her way through the undergrowth. She had tried it once and failed. Now she realized that it would be but a matter of minutes ere the whole space between the north and the south would be a seething mass of billowing flames. Calmly the girl kneeled down in the dust of the roadway and prayed for strength to meet her fate bravely, and for the delivery of her father and her friends from death. Suddenly she heard her name being called aloud through the forest. Jane, Jane Porter! It rang strong and clear, but in a strange voice. Here! She called in reply. Here! In the roadway! Then through the branches of the trees she saw a figure swinging with the speed of a squirrel. A veering of the wind blew a cloud of smoke about them, and she could no longer see the man who was speeding toward her, but suddenly she felt a great arm about her. Then she was lifted up, and she felt the rushing of the wind and the occasional brush of a branch as she was born along. She opened her eyes. Far below her lay the undergrowth and the hard earth. But her was the waving foliage of the forest. From tree to tree swung the giant figure which bore her, and it seemed to Jane that she was living over in a dream the experience that had been hers in that far African jungle. Oh, if it were but the same man who had borne her so swiftly through the tangled verdure on that other day! But that was impossible! Yet who else in all the world was there with the strength and agility to do what this man was now doing?  It was he! My forest man! she murmured. No, I must be delirious. Yes, your man, Jane Porter, your savage, primeval man, come out of the jungle to claim his mate, the woman who ran away from him. He added almost fiercely. I did not run away, she whispered. I would only consent to leave when they had waited a week for you to return. They had come to a point beyond the fire now, and he had turned back to the clearing. Side by side they were walking toward the cottage. The wind had changed once more, and the fire was burning back upon itself. Another hour like that and it would be burned out. Why did you not return? she asked. I was nursing Darno. He was badly wounded. I knew it, she exclaimed. They said you had gone to join the blacks, that they were your people. He laughed. But you did not believe them, Jane. No. What shall I call you? she asked. What is your name? I was Tarzan of the Apes when you first knew me. He said, Tarzan of the Apes, she cried. And that was your note, I answered, when I left? Yes. Whose did you think it was? I did not know, only that it could not be yours, for Tarzan of the Apes had written in English, and you could not understand a word of any language. Again he laughed. It is a long story, but it was I who wrote what I could not speak. And now Darno has made matters worse by teaching me to speak French instead of English. Come, he added, jump into my car. We must overtake your father. They are only a little way ahead. As they drove along, he said, then when you said in your note to Tarzan of the Apes that you loved another, you might have meant me? I might have, she answered simply. Not in Baltimore. Oh, how I have searched for you. They told me you would possibly be married by now. That a man named Candler had come up here to wed you. Is that true? Yes. Do you love him? No. Do you love me?  I am promised to another. I cannot answer you, Tarzan of the Apes, she cried. You have answered. Now tell me why you would marry one you do not love. My father owes him money. Suddenly there came back to Tarzan the memory of the letter he had read, and the name Robert Candler, and the hinted trouble which he had been unable to understand then, he smiled. If your father had not lost the treasure you would not feel forced to keep your promise to this man Candler? I could ask him to release me. And if he refused, I have given my promise. He was silent for a moment. The car was plunging along the uneven road at a reckless pace, for the fire showed threateningly at their right, and another change of the wind might sweep it on with raging fury across this one avenue of escape. Suddenly they passed the danger point, and Tarzan reduced their speed. Suppose I should ask him, ventured Tarzan. He would scarcely accede to the demand of a stranger, said the girl, especially one who wanted me himself. Turkoz did, said Tarzan grimly. Jane shuddered, and looked fearfully up at the giant figure beside her, for she knew that he meant the great anthropoid he had killed in her defense. This is not the African jungle, she said.   I am still a wild beast at heart, he said in a low voice, as though to himself. Again they were silent for a time. Jane said the man at length. If you were free, would you marry me? She did not reply at once, but he waited patiently. The girl was trying to collect her thoughts. What did she know of this strange creature at her side? What did he know of himself? Who was he? Who? His parents. Why, his very name echoed his mysterious origin in his savage life. He had no name. Could she be happy with this jungle wave? Could she find anything in common with a husband whose life had been spent at the treetops of an African wilderness, frolicking and fighting with fierce anthropoids, tearing his food from the quivering flank of fresh-killed prey, sinking his strong teeth into raw flesh, and tearing away his portion while his mates growled and fought about him for their share? Could he ever rise to her social sphere? Could she bear to think of sinking to his? Would either be happy in such a horrible misaliance? You do not answer, he said. Do you shrink from wounding me? I do not know what answer to make, said Jane sadly. I do not know my own mind. You do not love me, then? He asked in a level tone. Do not ask me. You will be happier without me. You were never meant for the formal restrictions and conventionalities of society. Civilization would become irksome to you, and in a little while you would long for the freedom of your old life, a life to which I am as totally unfitted as you to mine. I think I understand you, he replied quietly. I shall not urge you, for I would rather see you happy than to be happy myself. I see now that you could not be happy with an ape. There was just the faintest tinge of bitterness in his voice. Don't, she remonstrated. Don't say that. You do not understand. But before she could go on a sudden turn in the road brought them into the midst of a little hamlet, before them stood Clayton's car surrounded by the party he had brought from the cottage. End of chapter.