and Clark. There was no use pretending to sleep now. Jane sat up, and called clearly out.
âWho are you? What dâyou want?â
Archie woke with a snort, his hand going for the rifle near his feet, but he froze when he saw the dozen figures surrounding them, none bigger than four feet in height, wearing crude garments and wielding primitive spears and bows with arrows notched.
âPygmies,â said Greystoke who had just bolted upright, waking Robbie. âWe must be on their land.â
Jane felt icy shards of fear trickle down the back of her neck as she recalled Greystokeâs horrific tales of cannibals. The lead pygmy stepped forward, his face an unwelcoming grimace.
6
E ven Tarzan found keeping up with the Targarni tough work. The apes carried the unconscious humans on their backs and galloped across the jungle floor with surprising speed. Goyad led the way, leaving the heavy work to his underlings. Thunder Mountainâs steep incline did little to slow them, and the moonless night meant they blended into the jungle with ease.
From the lofty trees, Tarzan relied on scent and sound to follow the Targarni. Without a moon to light his way, even the trees could prove perilous for the ape-man. His keen eyesight was at its limits. Once in a while he caught sight of the ghostly Goyad below, but then the albino would be lost in the shadows. Occasionally, a swarm of fireflies glowed a green hue as the Targarni disturbed them, the only other visual cue Tarzan had.
There was no doubt they were heading back to their lair, but why? He had seen Targarni hunt game before. Unlike his own Mangani family, they relished the taste of flesh in the same way he did. So why did they need live prisoners? As he dwelled on these thoughts, he became determined to thwart the apesâ plans. Not to save the lives of the prisoners, who would no doubt find other ways to die in the jungle, but to anger Goyad.
Eventually the relentless pace grew to be too much for the Targarni and they were forced to stop. They chose the banks of a fast-flowing stream that ran down the side of the mountain, stepping down in waterfalls every hundred feet. The trees gave way to a stretch of rocks where the Targarni dumped their captives and drank from the dark water.
Tarzan was grateful for the respite and gently lowered himself to the jungle floor so he could get a better look at the state of the three prisoners. They didnât stir. Tarzan crouched so low his chest slid across the cool rocks as he crawled closer.
Goyadâs head shot up. Tarzan couldnât see his face, but he was certain the ape was looking in his direction. Surely he hadnât been detected? The crashing waterfall masked his movements and as he was downwind of the Targarni, they couldnât pick up his scent. The white ape didnât move for several long moments before turning back around and lapping water from the stream.
Tarzan edged closer to the captives so they were almost within armâs reach. He positioned himself behind a smooth boulder that would provide ample cover if the apes chose to look up again.
He suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath from the male prisoner. Tarzan recoiled into the shadows as the man groaned and sat up, clutching his head. He said something to the other two prone figures, but they were unconscious. There was not enough light for the man to take in his surroundings, and he hadnât yet seen the dark shadows of the Targarni against the deeper black of the jungle.
Before his eyes could adjust to the dark, Goyad raced across with two powerful bounds, his jaws stretched wide as he howled. For a lesser mortal than Tarzan, the sight of the ghostly ape was enough to freeze the blood. The man was rooted to the spot as Goyadâs powerful fist clobbered him across the head, knocking him unconscious again. The albino inspected the man for a moment, then, satisfied his prey was still alive, he returned to the stream.
The
âWho are you? What dâyou want?â
Archie woke with a snort, his hand going for the rifle near his feet, but he froze when he saw the dozen figures surrounding them, none bigger than four feet in height, wearing crude garments and wielding primitive spears and bows with arrows notched.
âPygmies,â said Greystoke who had just bolted upright, waking Robbie. âWe must be on their land.â
Jane felt icy shards of fear trickle down the back of her neck as she recalled Greystokeâs horrific tales of cannibals. The lead pygmy stepped forward, his face an unwelcoming grimace.
6
E ven Tarzan found keeping up with the Targarni tough work. The apes carried the unconscious humans on their backs and galloped across the jungle floor with surprising speed. Goyad led the way, leaving the heavy work to his underlings. Thunder Mountainâs steep incline did little to slow them, and the moonless night meant they blended into the jungle with ease.
From the lofty trees, Tarzan relied on scent and sound to follow the Targarni. Without a moon to light his way, even the trees could prove perilous for the ape-man. His keen eyesight was at its limits. Once in a while he caught sight of the ghostly Goyad below, but then the albino would be lost in the shadows. Occasionally, a swarm of fireflies glowed a green hue as the Targarni disturbed them, the only other visual cue Tarzan had.
There was no doubt they were heading back to their lair, but why? He had seen Targarni hunt game before. Unlike his own Mangani family, they relished the taste of flesh in the same way he did. So why did they need live prisoners? As he dwelled on these thoughts, he became determined to thwart the apesâ plans. Not to save the lives of the prisoners, who would no doubt find other ways to die in the jungle, but to anger Goyad.
Eventually the relentless pace grew to be too much for the Targarni and they were forced to stop. They chose the banks of a fast-flowing stream that ran down the side of the mountain, stepping down in waterfalls every hundred feet. The trees gave way to a stretch of rocks where the Targarni dumped their captives and drank from the dark water.
Tarzan was grateful for the respite and gently lowered himself to the jungle floor so he could get a better look at the state of the three prisoners. They didnât stir. Tarzan crouched so low his chest slid across the cool rocks as he crawled closer.
Goyadâs head shot up. Tarzan couldnât see his face, but he was certain the ape was looking in his direction. Surely he hadnât been detected? The crashing waterfall masked his movements and as he was downwind of the Targarni, they couldnât pick up his scent. The white ape didnât move for several long moments before turning back around and lapping water from the stream.
Tarzan edged closer to the captives so they were almost within armâs reach. He positioned himself behind a smooth boulder that would provide ample cover if the apes chose to look up again.
He suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath from the male prisoner. Tarzan recoiled into the shadows as the man groaned and sat up, clutching his head. He said something to the other two prone figures, but they were unconscious. There was not enough light for the man to take in his surroundings, and he hadnât yet seen the dark shadows of the Targarni against the deeper black of the jungle.
Before his eyes could adjust to the dark, Goyad raced across with two powerful bounds, his jaws stretched wide as he howled. For a lesser mortal than Tarzan, the sight of the ghostly ape was enough to freeze the blood. The man was rooted to the spot as Goyadâs powerful fist clobbered him across the head, knocking him unconscious again. The albino inspected the man for a moment, then, satisfied his prey was still alive, he returned to the stream.
The
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