Jane Clayton and the Beasts of the Jungle
Mugambi, after his successful break for liberty, had fallen upon hard times.His way had led him through a country with which he was unfamiliar, a jungle country in which he could find no water, and but little food, so that after several days of wandering he found himself so reduced in strength that he could barely drag himself along.
It was with growing difficulty that he found the strength necessary to construct a shelter by night wherein he might be reasonably safe from the large carnivora, and by day he still further exhausted his strength in digging for edible roots, and searching for water.
A few stagnant pools at considerable distances apart saved him from death by thirst; but his was a pitiable state when finally he stumbled by accident upon a large river in a country where fruit was abundant, and small game which he might bag by means of a combination of stealth, cunning, and a crude knob-stick which he had fashioned from a fallen limb.
Realizing that he still had a long march ahead of him before he could reach even the outskirts of the Waziri country, Mugambi wisely decided to remain where he was until he had recuperated his strength and health.A few days' rest would accomplish wonders for him, he knew, and he could ill afford to sacrifice his chances for a safe return by setting forth handicapped by weakness.
And so it was that he constructed a substantial thorn boma, and rigged a thatched shelter within it, where he might sleep by night in security, and from which he sallied forth by day to hunt the flesh which alone could return to his giant thews their normal prowess.
One day, as he hunted, a pair of savage eyes discovered him from the concealment of the branches of a great tree beneath which the black warrior passed.
Bloodshot, wicked eyes they were, set in a fierce and hairy face.
They watched Mugambi make his little kill of a small rodent, and they followed him as he returned to his hut, their owner moving quietly through the trees upon the trail of the Negro.
The creature was Chulk, and he looked down upon the unconscious man more in curiosity than in hate.The wearing of the Arab burnoose which Tarzan had placed upon his person had aroused in the mind of the anthropoid a desire for similar mimicry of the Tarmangani.The burnoose, though, had obstructed his movements and proven such a nuisance that the ape had long since torn it from him and thrown it away.
Now, however, he saw a Gomangani arrayed in less cumbersome apparel--a loin cloth, a few copper ornaments and a feather headdress.These were more in line with Chulk's desires than a flowing robe which was constantly getting between one's legs, and catching upon every limb and bush along the leafy trail.
Chulk eyed the pouch, which, suspended over Mugambi's shoulder, swung beside his black hip.This took his fancy, for it was ornamented with feathers and a fringe, and so the ape hung about Mugambi's boma, waiting an opportunity to seize either by stealth or might some object of the black's apparel.
Nor was it long before the opportunity came.Feeling safe within his thorny enclosure, Mugambi was wont to stretch himself in the shade of his shelter during the heat of the day, and sleep in peaceful security until the declining sun carried with it the enervating temperature of midday.
Watching from above, Chulk saw the black warrior stretched thus in the unconsciousness of sleep one sultry afternoon.Creeping out upon an overhanging branch the anthropoid dropped to the ground within the boma.He approached the sleeper upon padded feet which gave forth no sound, and with an uncanny woodcraft that rustled not a leaf or a grass blade.
Pausing beside the man, the ape bent over and examined his belongings.Great as was the strength of Chulk there lay in the back of his little brain a something which deterred him from arousing the man to combat--a sense that is inherent in all the lower orders, a strange fear of man, that rules even the most powerful of the jungle creatures at times.
To remove Mugambi's loin cloth without awakening him would be impossible, and the only detachable things were the knob-stick and the pouch, which had fallen from the black's shoulder as he rolled in sleep.
Seizing these two articles, as better than nothing at all, Chulk retreated with haste, and every indication of nervous terror, to the safety of the tree from which he had dropped, and, still haunted by that indefinable terror which the close proximity of man awakened in his breast, fled precipitately through the jungle.Aroused by attack, or supported by the presence of another of his kind, Chulk could have braved the presence of a score of human beings, but alone--ah, that was a different matter--alone, and unenraged.
It was some time after Mugambi awoke that he missed the pouch.Instantly he was all excitement.What could have become of it? It had been at his side when he lay down to sleep--of that he was certain, for had he not pushed it from beneath him when its bulging bulk, pressing against his ribs, caused him discomfort? Yes, it had been there when he lay down to sleep.How then had it vanished?
Mugambi's savage imagination was filled with visions of the spirits of departed friends and enemies, for only to the machinations of such as these could he attribute the disappearance of his pouch and knob-stick in the first excitement of the discovery of their loss; but later and more careful investigation, such as his woodcraft made possible, revealed indisputable evidence of a more material explanation than his excited fancy and superstition had at first led him to accept.