Chapter 25

The Outpost of the World



With the report of his gun D'Arnot 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.



With a cry of anguish D'Arnot sprang to the ape-man's side,

and kneeling, lifted the latter's head in his arms--calling

Tarzan's name aloud.



There was no response, and then D'Arnot placed his ear above

the man's heart. To his joy he heard its 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.

There was an ugly flesh wound, but no signs of a fracture of

the skull.



D'Arnot breathed a sigh of relief, and went about bathing

the blood from Tarzan's face.



Soon the cool water revived him, and presently he opened

his eyes to look in questioning surprise at D'Arnot.



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 thankful he 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 Bolgani did to me, and Kerchak,

and Terkoz, before I killed them--then you would

laugh at such a little scratch.





D'Arnot 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 D'Arnot.



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.

D'Arnot 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. He is the great white giant who

wore the diamond locket upon his breast.



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

a tree near the cabin. I do not know how you learned 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?



Suddenly he arose, and, bidding D'Arnot good night as he

had learned to do, threw himself upon the couch of ferns that

had been Jane Porter's.



D'Arnot extinguished the lamp, and lay down upon the cot.



For a week they did little but rest, D'Arnot 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 D'Arnot.



"Where is America?" he said.



D'Arnot pointed toward the northwest.



"Many thousands of miles across the ocean," he replied. "Why?"



"I am going there."



D'Arnot 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 D'Arnot 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.



D'Arnot did so.



"Now point out America," said Tarzan.



And as D'Arnot placed his finger upon North America,

Tarzan 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."



D'Arnot laughed. How could he make the man understand?



Then he took a pencil and made a tiny point upon the

shore of Africa.



"This 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?"



D'Arnot pointed out a spot on the shore just north of them.



"So close?" asked Tarzan, in surprise.



"Yes," said D'Arnot; "but it is not close."



"Have they big boats to cross the ocean?"



"Yes."



"We shall go there to-morrow," announced Tarzan.



Again D'Arnot smiled and shook his head.



"It is too far. We should die long before we reached them."



"Do you wish to stay here then forever?" asked Tarzan.



"No," said D'Arnot.



"Then we shall start to-morrow. I do not like it here

longer. I should rather die than remain here."



"Well," answered D'Arnot, 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

to-morrow."




"How will you get to America without money?" asked D'Arnot.



"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 D'Arnot, "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, beside bedding

and some food and cooking utensils.



The latter seemed to Tarzan a most useless encumbrance,

so he threw his away.



"But you must learn to eat cooked food, my friend,"

remonstrated D'Arnot. "No 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. D'Arnot

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.



Then D'Arnot would expostulate with him, saying:



"You must not eat like a brute, Tarzan, while I am trying

to make a gentleman of you. 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 D'Arnot 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

D'Arnot. "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.



"To-morrow we shall go back after it," he announced to D'Arnot.



"Go back?" exclaimed D'Arnot. "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 D'Arnot. "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, D'Arnot, 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."



D'Arnot 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, D'Arnot," 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 Kala, 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 D'Arnot, in surprise.



"Yes. She was a great, fine ape, larger than I, and weighing

twice as much."



"And your father?" asked D'Arnot.



"I did not know him. Kala told me he was a white ape,

and hairless like myself. I know now that he must have

been a white man."



D'Arnot looked long and earnestly at his companion.



"Tarzan," he said at length, "it is impossible that the ape,

Kala, 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.



D'Arnot 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 Kerchak.



D'Arnot read aloud. At times his voice broke, and he was

forced to stop reading for the pitiful hopelessness that spoke

between the lines.



Occasionally he glanced at Tarzan; but the ape-man sat

upon his haunches, like a carven 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 had 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.



To-day our little boy is six months old. 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 seem 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 inkbegrimed little fingers has placed the seal of his

tiny finger prints 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 D'Arnot had finished the diary the two men sat in

silence for some minutes.



"Well! Tarzan of the Apes, what think you?" asked D'Arnot.

"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 Kala spoke the truth," he

concluded sadly.



D'Arnot 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 consign 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 D'Arnot

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 D'Arnot.



"They are black," was Tarzan's only reply.



And again he drew back his shaft.



"You must not, Tarzan!" cried D'Arnot. "White men do

not kill wantonly. MON DIEU! 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.



"I do not know why I should kill the blacks back there in

my jungle, yet not kill them here. 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 D'Arnot,

"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

high held and the tropical sun beating upon his smooth,

brown skin.




Behind him came D'Arnot, clothed in some garments

which had 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 commotion.



What he saw brought his rifle to his shoulder, and Tarzan

of the Apes would have felt cold lead once again had not

D'Arnot cried loudly to the man with the leveled gun:



"Do not fire! We are friends!"



"Halt, then!" was the reply.



"Stop, Tarzan!" cried D'Arnot. "He thinks we are enemies."



Tarzan dropped into a walk, and together he and D'Arnot

advanced toward the white man by the gate.



The latter eyed them in puzzled bewilderment.



"What manner of men are you?" he asked, in French.



"White men," replied D'Arnot. "We have been lost in the

jungle for a long time."



The man had lowered his rifle and now advanced with

outstretched 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

D'Arnot, indicating the ape-man; and as the priest extended

his hand to Tarzan, D'Arnot added: "and I am Paul D'Arnot,

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 sewed white duck garments for himself and D'Arnot so

that they might continue their journey properly clothed.

****

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