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Title: Sword of GimshaiAuthor: Joseph W. Musgrave* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *eBook No.: 1300851h.htmlLanguage: EnglishDate first posted: Feb 2013Most recent update: August 2016This eBook was produced by: Blue Tyson and Roy GlashanProject Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editionswhich are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright noticeis included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particularpaper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing thisfile.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.htmlTo contact Project Gutenberg of Australia go to http://gutenberg.net.au
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Alone, Bob Reilly would have been easy prey forthose fierce marauding Bambala tribesmen. But fate had sent himstumbling into the camp of Sheena, the jungle-woman—Sheena—who already had written in Bambala bloodthe great legend of the warrior-queen.
SHEENA lay unmoving on the bed of fragrantgrasses, her hands clasped behind her blonde head. A gentlesoutheast wind blowing through the open door of the tree housetouched her with caressing fingers, whispered of a jungle longawake and busy.
But this morning the murmurous jungle noises held no interestfor Sheena. A feeling of oppression and loneliness had gripped herfrom the moment of her awakening.
A dozen times since sun-up her pet ape, Chim, had left his noisypursuits in nearby tree tops to peer worriedly in the door at amistress who would lie abed on such a wonderful day. Similarly, inthe clearing below, the great elephant, Tamba, stirred restlessly,impatient and puzzled because the girl he looked upon as his ownprivate pet hadn't appeared for the ceremony of swimming, eating,and playing over which he regularly presided.
For the first time, though, her animal friends weren't enough.The usual joy she took in teasing, rough-housing and lecturing themwas gone. Even the familiar, deep cough of the powerful,black-maned lion, Sabor, coming at intervals from across the riverfailed to excite Sheena. She had raised Sabor from a cub, andthough he would wander away for days at a time, he always cameback, as he was doing this morning after an eight-day prowl, to dogher footsteps for a time and cause trouble with the other petsthrough his dangerous jealousy.
The jungle girl had probed without success for some explanationof her depression. She knew that black men often were sick and fora time she wondered if that could be her trouble, though the onlyillness she had ever known was the stomach ache from eating tooenthusiastically of unripe fruit.
She had been laid up a few times with hurts suffered in life anddeath battles with jungle beasts, but her feelings on thoseoccasions were totally different from the way she felt now.
Sheena's hair was blonde and long, her eyes a deep and startlingblue, her full lips as richly red as sunstruck rubies. Her skin wastanned a soft, golden hue and she had the proud, lithe carriage ofa truly beautiful woman.
And yet actually Sheena had no understanding of beauty in theterms a civilized woman thinks of it. Her body was pleasing to her,yes, because in its firm, supple sleekness and sculptured lines,she recognized the same qualities she admired in the great cats andthe arrow-swift antelope.
But as to whether she was attractive to men never entered hermind. That basic feminine criterion of looks, the response of themale, was a yardstick as yet unknown to her, for up to now Sheenahad never known a man of her own kind.
When she was younger the indistinct faces of a white man andwoman sometimes had come to her in her dreams, faces that werefamiliar and yet somehow beyond the reach of her memory. Herearliest memories were of the Abamas, over whom the old witch womanof the tribe, N'bid Ela, had predicted that Sheena would one dayrule. To prepare her for that task, N'bid Ela had taken her intothe jungle and brought her up apart from the black children asthough she were a high priestess in training. But for many moonsnow, N'bid Ela had been dead and a great, lost loneliness grew inSheena.
Formerly, there had been no blacks in Sheena's section of thejungle, for the Abamas lived five suns to the south and theycontinued to obey the dead witch-woman's taboo against invadingSheena's privacy. "She will come to you when she is ready," N'bidEla had said.
But five moons ago the warlike Bambala had come suddenly fromthe north and settled near her. In her first encounter with them,Sheena had barely escaped capture. Since then, the blacks had madesporadic attempts to hunt her down. Not wanting to cause a tribalwar, Sheena hadn't told the Abamas of her trouble, and morerecently now, the Bambala had left her alone and she had noticedthat on one of those infrequent occasions when she encountered ahunter, it was the black who turned and fled.
BUT Sheena did not think of these things now as she laydespondently on her bed of grasses. She thought of little exceptthat life was no longer good and exciting.
In the clearing below the treehouse, the elephant, Tamba,trumpeted impatiently for her. Hardly had the ear-splitting noisesof his summons died away when her pet ape, Chim, landed with a loudthump in the door of the house, scampered across the floor andthrust his wizened, old-man's face close to hers.
Chim chattered softly, sympathetically to her at first. Thengetting no response, he fell silent, peered more intently with hislittle button eyes. He turned away heartbrokenly, making sad soundsin his throat as he plodded toward the door.
"Oh, all right," Sheena muttered wearily. "I'll get up if itwill calm you wild dingos down. By the red eyes of Gimshai, whycan't you and Tamba tend to your own business for one day and leaveme alone?"
The jungle girl spoke the rapid, musical speech of the Abamas.At the sound of her voice, Chim whirled, an almost human look ofdelight wreathing his black little face. He began to bound up anddown like a rubber ball, chattering with wild animation.
Sheena stood up, smoothing and straightening her leopard skinshorts and halter. She took her sheathed knife from a wall peg,belted it on. Then she picked up a full quiver of arrows, fastenedit and a bow so they rested comfortably between her shoulderblades.She scowled at the ape, and then with sudden animal quickness, shemimicked him exactly, even to the sound of his voice.
The ape froze, his mouth open, his head inclined forward so thathe peered at her like an old man looking over the top of hisglasses. Then shrieking with pleasure, he turned and whippedthrough the door, as if meaning to tell Tamba, the elephant, of thewonderful joke.
Sheena came out on the small platform which served as a porchfor the treehouse. Two purple and gold virini birds whirred upwardfrom a nearby branch to the harsh scolding of a parrot. Ten yardsaway in a great slanting column of sunlight, a cloud of butterflieswheeled in an endless, dizzying dance.
The jungle girl looked down through the gently swaying patternof branches to where Tamba, with ponderous solemnity, wasscratching his tough hide against a tree. At the edge of theplatform lay a coiled length of liana, one end of which was tied toa heavy branch.
With a sigh, Sheena nudged the rope into space with her foot.She leaned over, caught the vine with her hands, and swung off theplatform, The swift, sure agility with which she shimmied down theliana bespoke an unusual strength for a woman.
As her feet touched the ground, the elephant was waiting forher. Tamba looked down at her from his great height, shifting hisears like mammoth fans. Then he snaked his trunk about her, andlifting her, swung toward the river twenty yards away.
"No, no, Tamba," she protested irritably. "Let me down. I don'twant to go swimming this morning."
The bull was at the edge of the water before he realized Sheenawas in earnest. He set her down, peered at her with the remarkablyintelligent eyes of his kind, seemingly trying to discover what waswrong.
His look gave Sheena a twinge of conscience, and trying to hidethat fact even from herself, she turned away, stared stifflydownstream. She immediately gave an exasperated grunt. Her glancehad lighted on a heavy, black-maned figure carefully working itsway over the river by using a low limb as a bridge. It was Sabor,the lion, coming to make more trouble for her.
"I'm not going to put up with it," she said fiercely. "What dothese animals think I am, a slave?"
With a toss of her chin, she started across the clearing towardthe jungle. She heard Tamba shift his feet, knew he was consideringfollowing her. Off to her right, Chim came somersaulting out of atree, landed on his feet and scampered to catch her.
"Leave me alone!" she cried. And suddenly she was running,fleeing from her animal friends as though devils pursued her.
She sped into the cloaking green underbrush, careless of thebranches lashing at her. She ran on and on, halting only when herbreath began coming in hard gasps.
When she stopped and collected herself, she felt foolish andashamed. She shook her blonde head, a momentary wetness in hereyes. What was wrong with her? Had she somehow caught the strangemadness which sometimes came upon animals, driving them off to livein the bush alone, nursing a crazed anger against the wholejungle?
SHEENA glanced around to get her bearings. She hadn't paid anyheed to the course she was taking and was surprised now to find howfar outside her usual hunting ground she had gone. Though therecertainly never had been any agreement made between them, there wasa vague line of demarcation between her own range and that of theBambala. The blacks themselves had more or less drawn the imaginaryline in the past few months and seldom penetrated beyond it.
Ordinarily, Sheena would have turned back immediately to thesafety of her own lands, but in her mood today she didn't careabout danger or anything else. She sat down heavily on a fallentree and put her head in her hands.
The sun crept to nearly midway in the sky before the jungle girlfinally got up. A hunger pain knifed through her, reminding her shehadn't eaten that day. She was still standing indecisively, when anerrant breeze brought her the scent of ripening fruit.
In her life in the jungle, her sense of smell had become almostas keen as an animal's. She went straight to the stand of trees,heavy with large blue-skinned plums. When the taste of the plumspalled, she wandered on to some nut trees and finally topped offher effortless meal with a yellow panyanox pear.
Just as she threw away the pear core, Sheena heard a distant,echoing roar like a small blast of thunder. The sound was acompletely new one to her and she listened, frowning. Then twicemore the muted thunder came, seeming to roll close along theground.
Abruptly, all about her the jungle was listening. The smallrustlings in the underbrush, so faint and continuous that one grewalmost oblivious of them, suddenly stilled. The harsh voices of theparrots, the trilling, liquid notes of the song birds ceased in onevelvet clap of silence.
The forest listened, weighing the danger in the alien sound.Then as the noise blasted thrice again and still nothing happened,like a music box slowly beginning to play, the activity of thelittle creatures resumed. The strange thunder was ignored and thenforgotten by each animal or fowl the moment it decided itpersonally wasn't threatened.
But because of that odd, restless quirk in the human mind, callit a thirst for knowledge, or insatiable curiosity, or a plaincontrary urge to meddle, Sheena reacted quite differently from thejungle animals. What did this new and different sound mean? Whatcaused it? Could it be there was something in the jungle she didn'tknow about?
Eyes bright with interest, Sheena began running in the directionof the continuing blasts of noise. She moved with an antelope'sgrace, seeming to pick the quickest and easiest path by instinct.There was no resemblance between the flashing drive of her long,beautifully modeled legs and that knock-kneed, ridiculously aimlessattempt of a civilized woman to run.
In a matter of minutes, she came to a broad trail burrowing likea dimly-lit tunnel through the choking growth of trees, shrubs andvines. It was one of the ancient elephant tracks which serve as thehighways of Africa. The echoing blasts were very close now andcoming rapidly closer to her.
She started to step out on the trail, but her ears picked up thesound of pounding feet. She drew back out of sight, and sensing forthe first time that she might be running headlong into danger, sheleaped high, caught a limb and drew herself up into a tree. Shefound a perch in the middle branches, where she commanded a clearview of the trail but would be hidden from sight herself so long asshe lay flat in a nest of vines.
A dark figure sprinted around a far curve in the path. A secondlater, two more runners burst into view. Then a whole clot ofjostling, clawing bodies was pouring around the turn.
Sheena's eyes narrowed, her body suddenly taut. As the blacksswept closer along the shadowed dimness of the trail, she realizedthey were strange tribesmen, not the Bambala, her enemies. Theywere obviously terror-stricken, each man fighting to get ahead ofthe others.
None of them had the look of warriors, though the three men inthe lead were armed with spears and shields. Most of the nativeshad heavy packs strapped on their backs, and as they ran, they weretearing free of the carrying straps and letting the packs shatteron the ground. Out of sight around the turn, the explosions weresounding sharper and clearer now, each blast shocking the fleeingnatives to greater speed.
Sheena couldn't imagine what horror the panting, strainingnatives fled from. Then, abruptly, when the stampeding blacks wereno more than a short spear throw away from both sides of the trailerupted the dread Bambala war cry, "Babalo Aka N'Koto!"
That frenzied cry repeated over and over with hystericalshrillness brought back to Sheena in a rush of memory that grimmorning when they first tried to capture her, swarming out ofambush, a hundred jackals against one unarmed woman. But in herthey had met a raging, tearing leopard instead of a fear-strickenvictim. And on that day Sheena had killed for the first time, hadwritten in Bambala blood the first lines of the legend of thewarrior-queen which month to month from that time on was to growmore fabulous.
"Blood for N'Koto!" Blood for the evil god of the Bambala! Bloodfor that hideous, swollen idol before which the Bambala groveledand prayed before they went out to hunt down innocent, helplessvictims.
Sheena snarled like an angry cat, her lips shearing back toreveal bared teeth. Out of the underbrush along the trail, theBambala swept in two great waves. The ambush had been perfectlyplanned. At point-blank range they hammered their spears into theirprey, and then ripping free their swords, they charged in tocomplete their grisly work.
As the painted warriors fell upon the terrorized bearers,Sheena's hand darted to her bow. All thought of her own safety wasgone. Rage, red and flaming, seared over her. It was but the workof a moment to tug loose the slip-knot securing the bow across hershoulders.
With the flashing speed that comes from long practice, shesnapped the bow-string taut, She leaped upright on the limb, asperfectly balanced as though her feet rested on solid ground. Withnerveless precision, the jungle girl began feeding arrows into thetightly packed attackers.
A Bambala warrior threw up his arms, and screaming, dropped tohis knees. Another pitched forward and was trampled underfoot. Twomore collapsed suddenly like puppets whose strings have been cut.The fifth bent double, an arrow hammered completely through hismiddle, and began to run in circles like a dog with his tail onfire.
Sheena had concentrated her fire on the Bambala nearest to her,those blocking the flight of the bearers. When she knocked thosefive men out of the uneven battle, it was like stabbing a knifeinto a water-filled bladder. The crazed bearers who had survivedthe initial onslaught came spurting through the opening she hadcreated. In a blind, heedless stampede they drove out of the trapand flung off at all angles into the forest.
The mass of Bambala splintered apart, groups of three to fivewarriors taking out after each of the frightened human rabbits. Theattackers were raging more wildly than ever, now that an easyslaughter had turned into a difficult chase.
But the warriors nearest those men dropped by Sheena's arrowsdidn't join the pursuit. Some of them had seen the arrows rip intotheir fellows, and jabbering excitedly, they pointed out to theothers that the attack had come from a new, hidden foe.
Then one of them, considering the angle at which the arrows hadstruck, suddenly spotted Sheena standing wide-legged high up on aswaying limb. He stabbed his finger at the slim, white figureoutlined against the deep green leaves.
"Tioto Nomi!" he cried. "The Forest Woman!"
A low, hoarse, shivering sound, like the rush of wind through adeep gorge, broke from the Bambala. There was fear in that sound,and hatred, too. This was the woman they had hunted innumerabletimes without success. For all their numbers, all their weapons,all their wiles, she made fools of them.
Clearly, no mere woman would be able to outwit warriors. Andthere were other things that showed she was no ordinary flesh andblood human. For instance, hadn't she been seen talking with fiercejungle beasts, or hunting and playing with them. She haddemonstrated that she was immune to the curses and spells of thewitch doctors, to the proven juju which would wither and kill ablack man in a matter of days.
And yet at the same time, many happenings in the Bambala kraal,such as the unseasonal windstorm two moons ago which tore off theroofs of half the huts or the strange overnight invasion of snakesafter the last rain, could only be attributed to the evil magic ofsomeone like the Forest Woman. Surely, she was the spawn of demons,endowed with a powerful personal juju, else the jungle devilsthemselves would long ago have devoured her.
Fear does different things to different men. Most of thewarriors were momentarily paralyzed, stunned by the knowledge thatSheena for the first time openly had invaded their lands andattacked them. But one squat, bull-chested native was galvanizedinto action.
"Save yourselves!" he screeched. "Strike before she killsus!"
He tugged a spear from the body of one of the murdered bearers,his eyes distended, his mouth a rubbery, gaping hole. He ranforward two steps, hefting the spear for the cast.
SHEENA'S arrow took the spearman in the throat,threw him flopping backward like a beheaded chicken. But the man'saction broke the spell which held the other Bambala. They wentscrambling for spears among the dead bearers.
Swift as she was, there wasn't time for Sheena to escape, andagainst a massed spear attack her bow couldn't save her. Too lateshe realized her deep-seated hatred of the Bambala had betrayed herinto fatal recklessness.
Then, at that moment, as death reached for her, three men camefast around the far turn of the trail behind the warriors. Two ofthem were husky blacks wearing faded khaki shorts. They clutchedrifles in their big hands, nearly empty cartridge belts slappingtheir waists as they ran.
The third man was white, a tall, broad-shouldered fellow withthe driving, high-stepping gait of a football fullback. A rifle wasgripped in his hands, a pistol belted about his lean middle. He washatless, his black hair tangled and unruly. And though strain andfatigue lined his square-jawed face, giving him at first glance adeceptive look of maturity, a more searching inspection told thathe was in his very early twenties.
The two blacks faltered, broke stride, when they saw the Bambalamilling among the dead and dying bearers. Both of them, eyessuddenly gleaming white, cast fearful glances over their shoulders.The white man's voice lashed them, drove them on a few slowingsteps further. But the same panic that had overtaken the bearerswas fountaining up in the two guards.
As though invisible ropes had snared them, the guards stopped,making futile little turns and twists without ever actuallystirring from their tracks, The white man's voice whipped themagain, angry urgency in it.
One of them shook his head violently, saying he wouldn't chargethe Bambala. The other gave no sign he even heard. For a desperatemoment the white man hesitated, then his mouth twisting bitterly,he plunged forward alone, triggering his rifle from hip-level as heran.
His shouts to the guards had jerked the Bambala warriors'attention away from Sheena. They gave cry like a dog pack when theysaw the three new victims. Two of them, spears lifting high, leapedto meet the oncoming white.
Then the white man's rifle was bucking and jolting in hisrigidly straining hands. At that range even unaimed shots couldn'tmiss. The crash of the explosions echoed and reechoed, sound pilingon sound, in the cavern-like trail.
One of the charging spearmen seemed to run into a stone wall. Inmid-stride he slammed against the unseen barrier, went reelingbackwards in a twisting fall. By the time he hit the ground, twomore men in the cluster of natives behind him were going down and athird was screaming with a shattered arm.
These were tough, hard-bitten warriors, but this was their firstexperience in facing gunfire. That terrible roaring firestick wasas awesome as a herd of charging elephants. Fearful magic was in aweapon which in some unexplained way spat death through theair.
And the best measure of the firestick's magic was the way thelone white man ran straight at them. Only a man who knew hecouldn't lose would fling himself against overwhelming odds. Aye,flesh and blood couldn't combat the magic of that firestick.
The Bambala didn't guess the colossal bluff the white man wasrunning on them. It took iron courage to drive at those blacks,triggering the last of his rifle cartridges, realizing he wasfinished if they didn't break before he reached them.
It wasn't lunatic bravery that dictated his action. The junglebehind him was alive with Bambala. The main force had attacked hissafari from the rear, overwhelming over half the bearers before hecould bring his guns into play, stampeding the rest into thissecond ambush. He knew he wouldn't have a chance against thejungle-wise blacks if he turned off into the underbrush. The trailahead offered the only avenue of flight.
He had seen in the first moments of battle that the warriorswere gun shy. By fighting a fierce rearguard action, he and the twoarmed blacks had tried to buy time for the bearers to escape. Butwhen their ammunition ran low, they, too, had been forced to runfor it.
Thinking of their nearly empty rifles, the guards' nerves hadbroken when they rounded the turn and saw their retreat cut off.The white man had gritted his teeth and plowed on. He had kept hiswits enough to realize that a bold front might panic the smallgroup of natives blocking the path.
And if his bluff failed?
Well, he would only be dying a few seconds sooner than the twofear-stricken guards.
But his bluff didn't fail. Like jackals charged by a lion, theBambala suddenly took to their heels. In a trampling rush, theyheaded into the underbrush, leaving the path clear.
Sheena stood frozen on the limb above the trail. She was asstartled by that thundering firestick as the natives, but she waseven more stunned by the fact that the firestick's master waswhite-skinned. She didn't fear him. After all, he had saved herlife. His reckless charge had turned the Bambala spears away fromher in the nick of time.
It didn't occur to her that he could be anything but a friendand ally. She judged men by the only rulestick she knew, the waysof the animal world. Among the jungle creatures, like ran withlike, instinctively sharing the same hatreds, hungers, andhabits.
Early in life, Sheena reluctantly had concluded that she was acreature alone, doomed to spend her days without ever knowing thecompany of others like herself.
And now suddenly, unbelievably, she was seeing one of her ownpeople—a male of her own kind!
That he was a male, she had no doubt. His square-jawed face, hisbroad shoulders, deep chest and lean hips, his deep voice and wild,fierce manner of fighting, all bespoke his maleness.
He braked to a stop almost directly beneath her, and swungabout, hands busy with the firestick. The thing that had stoppedthe white man was the hideous upthrust of Bambala cries on thetrail behind him. As he turned, fumbling in haste to jam the lastof his cartridges into the rifle, he saw black warriors pouringaround the turn and washing out of the jungle on both sides of thetwo guards who had lagged behind him.
He jerked the rifle up, slammed five deliberate shots into theswarming mass. But a score of marksmen couldn't have saved the twomen. The Bambala were on them like lusting beasts, literallytearing the guards to pieces with their hands.
As the clawing, screaming mass closed over the two, the whiteman's finger automatically kept working the trigger. But the fiveshells had been his last and the hammer snapped futilely against anempty chamber. When he finally realized what he was doing, hisright hand snaked for his pistol, his clean-cut face gone whitewith anger under his deep tan.
Then with the pistol half out of its holster, he came to hissenses, realizing the uselessness of trying to challenge thatoverwhelming force. He spun abruptly, and still gripping the emptyrifle, went pounding down the trail.
His action broke the spell which had held Sheena motionless. Shehad seen him feed five glittering metal tubes into the firestick,had heard it spit thunder five times and then emit only emptyclicks. The five ejected cartridges lay on the trail where he hadstood. Her quick mind fitted these facts together and suddenly sherealized the firestick's magic was used up.
The Bambala, already starting the pursuit, soon would alsorealize the gun's magic was exhausted. And once the cautionengendered by their fear of that gun was gone, they would makeshort work of the white man.
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Sheena aloud. "I can't let them gethim!"
With flying fingers, she dropped the arrow she held back intothe quiver, secured the bow on her back. Then with the sure agilityof one of the tree people themselves, she started through themiddle branches.
It was through this trick of tree travel that she had so manytimes mystified the Bambala, apparently vanishing into thin airjust when they thought they had her cornered. As a lonesome child,she had begun imitating the monkeys and apes as strictly a matterof play, and through endless practice gradually she had becomebreath-takingly expert at aerial acrobatics.
In pursuing the white man, Sheena veered off to the left throughthe jungle, remembering that the trail made a leisurely arc.Despite his considerable lead on her, she would be able tointercept him by making the shortcut.
When she reached her destination, she saw him a hundred yardsaway, coming fast towards her. The Bambala weren't in sight yet,but the clearness with which their chilling cries could be heardtold that they weren't far behind.
Sheena gripped a dangling length of liana, balanced to swingdown onto the trail. And then, with the actual moment of meetingthis strange male at hand, an overpowering shyness gripped thejungle girl. She became aware of the rapid pound of her heart, theswift rise and fall of her breast, and in her legs and the pit ofher stomach, she had an odd, quaky feeling.
She hesitated, bewildered by these new and utterly unexpectedsensations. Then angrily, she told herself, "You fool, don't clingin this tree like a frightened lizard while death races up on thatbrave man."
And with that, she leaped clear of the limb, went swinging downonto the trail. Just before her feet touched the ground, she turnedloose of the vine and hit running.
As the man saw a figure hurtle out of the tree, he came to asliding stop, tearing his pistol from its holster. His eyes flewwide as Sheena hit the trail, took three long running steps andhalted, facing him. His gun arm seemed to wilt, slowly droppingback to his side.
"Good lord!" he said quite audibly. "A white girl!"
Sheena heard his startled exclamation, and though she didn'tunderstand the words, the sound of his voice was pleasant to her.She saw too that her appearance had greatly confused and upset him.She couldn't know that in addition to his shock at finding a whitegirl in the midst of nowhere, he was suddenly frantic with thethought that the responsibility for her life was being placed inhis hands when he couldn't hope to take care of himself.
His face was tragic as he stared at her fresh, young beauty. Inhis mental turmoil, details such as her unusual dress or the oddmanner in which she had appeared didn't immediately make animpression on him. His mind was too filled with the horror of theBambala attack for him to think logically. She was the mostbeautiful girl he had ever seen and it sickened him to realize hewas helpless to protect her from the murderous blacks.
Then the girl was beckoning to him, dire urgency in her gesture.He dropped the pistol back into his holster. He saw by her mannerthat she was thoroughly aware of the pursuing blacks, but shedidn't show the least sign of fear. He tried to frame what heshould say to her, wondering whether to tell her right out howscant were their chances or whether to lull her with a false senseof security.
But before he could speak, she ran forward impatiently andcaught him by the hand. For the merest instant, her blue eyesstared directly into his gray ones, seeming in their electricintensity to search deep within him. She turned then, and grippinghis hand with surprising strength, tugged him into a run.
She kept a step ahead of him and he could no longer escapeseeing the bow and quiver of arrows tied across her shoulders. Hefrowned, his mind struggling sluggishly with the fact that the bowwas polished by long usage; the primitive doeskin quiver worn withmuch handling, His glance went to the long knife riding the curveof her hip, noted that the ivory handle was shaped for a woman'sgrip instead of a black warrior's broad, thick fingers.
And abruptly, a host of disturbing details about her began todrop into place. He felt again the strength of her grip, watchedthe supple play of firm muscles beneath her velvety skin, saw thegolden tan which covered her body. He noticed her leopard skinclothing, which though worked to a beautiful softness, was yetcrudely cut and sewn. Her feet were bare and she wore not a singleornament.
From the first few steps he took in following her, he couldsense she wasn't leading him in blind flight. There was aconfidence in her movements that assured him she had a definiteplan figured out. This wasn't what he had expected at all. Insteadof being a frightened woman seeking protection, she had taken calmcommand of their escape.
She led him some fifty yards down the elephant track and thenswerved to the right into what appeared to the white man animpenetrable wall of vegetation. But she wriggled with sure speedthrough the vine-choked bush, twisting and turning right and leftas if by instinct to find clearance. Twenty paces off the maintrail he already had lost all sense of direction.
He abruptly realized the going was easier and found that she hadbrought them to a tiny, winding game path. She turned loose of hishand and began to sprint along the narrow way like a runningdoe.
Branches slashed at his face, caught at his rifle as he tried tokeep up with her. Bushes gripped his legs, roots snared his bootedfeet. He felt like a blind bull threshing through the jungle,growing angry with himself as he saw how easily she threadedthrough the undergrowth ahead of him.
He strained to the outermost limits of his strength to stay upwith her. Sweat poured from him in a drenching flood. His legs grewunsteady and his straining lungs ached with effort. And to add tohis humiliation in being unable to match the girl, he finallystumbled over the roots of a baobab tree and fell sprawling fulllength in the path.
With the breath knocked out of him, he was too weak for a momenteven to get to his knees again. When he raised his head, he saw theblonde girl had turned back and was staring at him, a questioninglook on her face.
"I'm all right," he growled sheepishly. "Blasted clumsy bootsare hard to run in."
She cocked her head at his words, but didn't say anything. Herealized she hadn't spoken a single time, and suddenly wonderedwhy. He heaved to his feet and managed a grin. He didn't want herto think him ungrateful.
His weak grin immediately brought an answering smile from her.She gestured to him to get started, and as if to reinforce herwarning that he must keep running, the savage howls of theirpursuers rose along their backtrail. He saw how swiftly the soundof the pack erased her smile and knew the Bambala were dangerouslyclose.
His own features sobered. "Go on," he said, motioning her ahead."You mustn't lag back because I'm so damnably slow. By yourself youcan outrun them for sure. Forget about me and let me make out formyself."
Sheena studied him thoughtfully, puzzling out his meaning. Thensetting her lips firmly, she marched forward and caught him by thearm. It was obvious she had no intention of leaving him.
"Ohhh," he said despairingly, "all right, I'll go. You'd standhere until they ran over us. But you're being plain foolish."
She started off again, this time adjusting her pace to hisability to stay up with her. It angered him to realize this, toappear a flabby weakling in her eyes, and he drove himselfunmercifully in an effort to crowd her, but always she kept thesame distance ahead of him, seeming to float effortlessly along thedifficult path.
He did his best, but it wasn't good enough. The measure of hisinadequacy was the growing speed with which the Bambala began toovertake them. But lacking Sheena's animal-keen hearing, he didn'trealize how desperately close a handful of the swifter blacks hadcome behind them.
Sheena knew that these warriors, the best runners of the tribe,had long since outdistanced the pack. Only the confused winding ofthe path concealed them from view; otherwise, they would have beenin easy arrow range.
She had doubled back onto the trail she had followed in firstentering the Bambala area, hoping that once she crossed the vaguelydefined border between her lands and theirs that they would abandonthe chase. But she had failed to take into consideration the whiteman's difficulty in following her through the bush.
Because of his slowness, the blacks had cut away their lead. TheBambala could tell from the white man's spoor that he wasstaggering with exhaustion. With their prey almost in their grasp,the frenzy of the chase submerged their hazy fears of Sheena. Theyplunged across the border without hesitation, confident they couldmake a quick and easy kill and get back to their own lands beforeany harm could come to them.
When the warriors failed to turn back, a sudden chill touchedSheena's heart. The man was doomed. Despite all she could do, thisblack-haired, fair-skinned male of her own kind would be slain.
It would still be an easy matter for her to get away from theBambala. But all her jungle cunning was useless to help this man.She heard him reel and clutch at a tree for support.
She stopped, turned back. His head was dropped forward on hischest, his face contorted with the struggle to breathe. He saggedagainst the tree for a moment, looking as though his legs weregoing to give under him. Then through the wetness of his shirt shesaw his back and shoulder muscles tense and he shoved himself awayfrom the tree, came weaving toward her. She sensed the effort ofwill behind that action.
Her blue eyes were dark with the decision she made. She put outher arms and halted him. He swayed under the suddenness of hergrip.
Then slowly she stepped away from him, staring bleakly along theway the Bambala would come. He wheeled about, watching her as shereached for her bow.
Abruptly, understanding came to him. This strange, magnificentgirl, rather than abandon him to his fate, was preparing to facetheir pursuers with no other weapon than her primitive bow.
The hoarse protest that burst from his lips was drowned by alion's ear-splitting roar. Before his amazed eyes, a huge,black-maned lion burst from a stand of shoulder-high grass tocrouch facing them in the path. The beast was a giant of his kind,a steel-thewed male in his very prime, his narrowed, yellow eyesblazing with deadliness.
For the merest fraction of time, the white man was shocked intoimmobility. It was as though a searing electric current stabbedinto him from the cat's yellow eyes. Then with a wild, warning yellto the girl, his right hand dove for his pistol.
BOB knew as he went for the gun how small a chancehe had of stopping the lion. But his instinct was to protect thegirl, and if nothing else, the shots would draw the brute's chargeto him.
Suddenly, bewilderingly, the blonde girl plunged at him, foughthis hand away from the pistol. A part of his mind dazedlyregistered the fact that she was screaming at him in the Abamatongue, not English. He understood the words easily for he had justcome from a long stay with the Nubutus, blood cousins of theAbamas, who lived a month's trek to the west.
"No, no!" she said. "Don't harm Sabor! He's my friend! I cancontrol him."
He thought either he had gone crazy or he was dreaming thegranddaddy of all nightmares. Over the girl's shoulder he could seethe cat slink forward in slow, crouching steps, the unblinking eyesriveted on his face. The realization came to him that the lion wasmaking no effort to charge the easy target made by the girl's back,but was holding back, waiting with coiled muscles for her to moveout of the way.
He was the one the lion was after, not the girl!
The girl had wrestled him back against a tree. It was suddenlyall too much for the confused, bone-weary man. He quit strugglingfor the gun, sagged back against the rough bark. At that moment, heno longer cared whether he lived or died.
As soon as he relaxed, the girl spun around to face the blackmaned cat. Keeping between the man and the slowly approachingbeast, she began to talk in a calm, firm voice. The lion's earsshifted to catch her words, and after an interval, his glanceflicked from the man to the girl.
When she had the cat looking at her, Sheena went up to him. Thelion allowed her to stroke him, the deep-throated snarls changingin tone, becoming complaining rather than chilling. She scratchedhim behind an ear, slid her arm about his neck, and with gradualpressure, turned the giant cat completely about on the trail. Stillkeeping her arm around the brute's shaggy mane, she began to walk,leading him away from the man. Before she had gone five steps, thefirst of the pursuing blacks burst into view on the trail. Thewarrior rounded a turn at a terrific pace.
The native had abandoned his spear to achieve greater speed,feeling his sword and bow were weapons enough to handle the twowhites. He leaned forward as he ran, arms pumping, eyes glued tothe trail.
Sheena stabbed a hand toward the warrior, pygmy words spillingfrom her lips. The huge lion beside her stiffened, his great headlifting. Abruptly, the cat's tail lashed, a tremendous roar smashedfrom his throat. Then with the blinding speed of a thunderbolt, heshot down the trail toward the warrior.
The black's head jerked up as he heard the roar. His eyes seemedto triple in size, his face blanching a dirty gray. With a wildflailing of arms and legs, he managed to whip around and start backtoward the turn.
But at that moment, five more warriors running in single filesprinted into view. The fleeing black hammered into the line of hisfellows, screaming, "Simba, Simba!" and clawing for his sword.
His cry of "Lion, Lion!" was no warning. All he succeeded indoing was to send the first three men sprawling over him in aconfused tangle. The last two blacks did manage to keep their feet,skidding to a stop just in time to make perfect targets for thecharging lion.
Sheena's savage pet shot completely over the fallen men andlanded with demoniac fury on the rear two warriors. Sabor's tearingclaws and fangs had ripped the blacks to shreds before he had bornethem to the ground.
The great lion wasted no time on his first victims. Barely hadhis feet touched earth when he reared about and dove directly onthe fallen mass of men. He seemed to understand that he must strikebefore the warriors could bring their weapons into play.
The watching white man was never to forget that awful scene. Thenatives screams cut through the bloodcurdling snarls of themaddened cat. The black-maned brute was everywhere at once,leaping, twisting, spinning, striking down the terrorized warriorsbefore they could flee.
And suddenly it was over and the bloodstained lion stood amongthe torn things that had once been men and cried his kingly rage tothe jungle. His one loyalty was to Sheena. Baring his fangs andtossing his head, he roared defiance at all those who would harmher.
The white man rubbed a hand across his eyes, muttered,"—unbelievable—that devil obeying her—fightingfor her—" But it was only the first of the astonishingexperiences in store for him.
The girl's whole being had changed. Her eyes blazed withexcitement. She was no longer a person resigned to death. She ranup to him, momentarily forgetting that he had spoken in a strangetongue.
"Come!" she said exultantly in Abama. "They'll never catch usnow! Tamba is bound to be close by. Nothing but jealousy would havemade Sabor follow me this distance. He was afraid Tamba would getme off to himself and he'd go to any lengths to keep that fromhappening."
"I don't know who or what you're talking about," he answeredhoarsely, "but I darn sure don't want to stay here with thatlion."
SHE was pulling him down the path then, her darting eyessearching the jungle about them. It was a full minute before sherealized that, except for a few strange words like "darn," he hadreplied to her in the Abama language. She looked at him, a smilelike a burst of sunlight curving her full lips.
"You do speak as I do," she said happily. "My heart sank whenfirst I heard you speak in a strange tongue, for I thought you weredifferent from me. But we are the same—the same skin, thesame language, the same blood."
Uneasy wonder at the mystery of this strange jungle girl stirredthe white man again. She had the beauty of a goddess, the ways of awild creature. She was undoubtedly white, but spoke Abama as hernative language and seemed to have no knowledge of her own race atall.
And this Tamba she spoke of, who was he? Another lion? Or was hesome hulking brute of a wild man. The thought of her belonging tosome man hadn't occurred to him before. He found he was oddlydisturbed.
"Are you sure this Tamba person will welcome me?" he asked.
"Tamba?" she said, surprised. "He won't mind."
The white man wet his lips. "Uh—is he your husband?" Hehad to ask it.
She repeated the Abama word for husband under her breath asthough she were unsure she had heard him aright. Then suddenly apeal of delighted laughter burst from her throat.
"Oh, no," she said, her voice husky with laughter. "The sly oldlazybones has practically moved in with me and thinks he owns me,but he's hardly the type for a husband."
The white man nervously cleared his throat, his face grown moresomber than ever. He failed to see any humor in the situation. Itwas only further proof, he told himself, of how desperately littlehe really knew about women.
He stared darkly at the ground, the trees, the leaf-obscuredsky, anywhere so he wouldn't have to look into those dancing blueeyes. A damnable crime, he boiled silently. A young and beautifulgirl like that. Looked like the picture of innocence, too. Anothertragedy of environment, but probably it was far too late to doanything about it now.
Her glad cry broke into his thoughts. "There he is! There'sTamba! I knew he wouldn't be far away."
He looked grimly in the direction she pointed. For a moment,since he was prepared to see a man, his glance registered nothingbut green shrubs with a huge, gray, rock-like mound vaguely visiblebehind them.
Then the mound moved, shoved through the undergrowth withamazing speed and quiet toward the girl, and with astonished eyeshe recognized a mammoth elephant.
"That is Tamba?" he sputtered. His face reddened as he becameaware of her laughing regard.
"We must hurry," she said, grown suddenly serious. "The Bambalawill be slowed down by the sight of those bodies and Sabor may pickoff another one or two, but so long as they have a spoor to followthey'll stay after us."
The elephant had stopped a few paces away and was regarding herwith first one keen little eye and then the other.
"Here Tamba, lift him up," she commanded. The white manretreated a step. "He won't hurt you," she said in an aside. Shereached out and patted the man on the shoulder for the elephant'sbenefit.
"I don't feel like I can move," he said tensely, "but if it isall the same to you I'll take walking rather than this." He tookanother backward step away from the forest giant.
She beamed for the elephant, and said in a whisper, "Don't befoolish. He's as gentle as a baby rabbit."
"Well, why are you whispering then?" the man demanded.
"I don't want him to get the idea you're afraid," she declared."He might not respect you."
"Oh, great!" he said. But under her serious, half-pleading look,he found himself standing stiffly while the gray giant approached,suspiciously investigated him with his trunk. The man thought of aburly cop efficiently frisking a shady character. Maybe it wasimagination, but he also thought Tamba gave the girl a ratheraggrieved look.
"Hurry up, Tamba," snapped Sheena, "I'll explain everything toyou later."
THE next thing the man knew, the elephant's trunk had snappedgently but securely about his waist and he was being swept high inthe air. By the time he had scrambled to a safe perch on Tamba'sback Sheena was settling herself on the broad head, slipping herlong, shapely legs down behind the beast's ears.
She drummed her heels, spoke a quick command, and the elephantturned and went at a surprisingly fast gait down the path. The girlsat the forest giant as though she were glued on, but the manjounced, slipped and slid all over the swaying back. His firstexperience with the ancient art of elephant riding couldn't betermed a successful one.
For what seemed an eternity, he struggled to stay on thatlurching back. He was too busy trying with only two hands to holdonto his rifle, clutch the rough, loose skin and block out thebranches that lashed at him with diabolical aim to pay anyattention to where they were headed.
When Tamba did stop, the white man's head was whirling dizzilyin one direction, his stomach in another.
The soft, little clucking sounds of sympathy Sheena made as shehelped him climb down touched his masculine pride. "Isn't this afine thing," he told himself angrily. "Here I am acting like amaiden great-aunt, and she's as fresh and strong as when thisnightmare started."
She solicitously maneuvered him to where he could sit down andrest his back against the tree trunk. He felt almost as bad as hehad once when he was sea-sick and he sat with his eyes closeduntil she suddenly was holding a gourd of cold water to his lips.He took a few cautious sips of the water and used the rest to bathehis face.
He immediately felt better. He lifted his head to thank her. Asmall black face with brilliant, glittering black eyes hung upsidedown in the air not four inches from his own startled features.
"Uuugh!" he exclaimed and slammed himself back against thetree.
"Oh, I'm sorry," apologized Sheena. "It's only Chim. He wantedto get a good look at you."
And shame-facedly, the man realized the strange apparition wasnothing more than a small ape hanging from a limb by his feet.
He looked about at the pleasant, tree-shaded clearing, thetree-house high above him, the cool, clear deeps of the river.
"You live here?" he asked unbelievingly. "And all alone?"
She nodded enthusiastically.
Chim, apparently tiring at long last of his upside downposition, loosened his grip on the limb, turned a quick flip andlanded in a squatting position in the white man's lap.
"I can't imagine how you manage," he said, trying not to noticethe monkey's stern, unblinking scrutiny. "How long have you livedthis way?"
"Why, always," she said matter-of-factly. "Doesn't everyone liveabout the same way? Of course, I do live in a tree-house, whereasmost natives build on the ground. There's plenty of game and plentyof water here. I don't think anyone could find a more perfecthome."
HE THOUGHT of the great crowded cities of America, theunnumbered kinds of stores, services and establishments, the hugemanufacturing plants, the giant utilities, the layers upon layersof governing bodies. And this slim, wide-eyed, blonde girl askedhim if everyone didn't live about the same way she did. Anexistence such as hers, let alone a happy, healthful existence, hadbecome inconceivable to the white races of the world.
"Surely, you remember your family," he ventured.
A shadow seemed to pass across her face. "No," she said. "Theydied while I was a baby. The Abamas found me, but they can tell menothing except that my parents were of the Tribe of God." Theexpression was one used by natives to describe whitemissionaries.
Grown suddenly moody, she bit her full lower lip, stared offacross the river. A wave of sympathy swept over the man. But thegirl's mood swiftly passed. She turned back to him, as bright andvivacious as ever.
"You haven't told me how you are called," she said shyly.
"Great Scot," he exclaimed in English, "I really am the boy formanners."
She blinked at him. "That is your name?"
He laughed. "No, no. My name is Bob Reilly."
She pronounced it after him cautiously, like a child learning anew phrase. Then as if she had made a startling discovery, sheasked, "Why do you have two names?"
Without thinking, he returned, "Why not? Most people havethree."
She looked troubled. "I have only one—Sheena," sheconfessed in a disturbed whisper. "I guess it is a bad thing tohave only one name?"
It dawned on him that she wasn't joking. In her first tentativebrush with civilization, he was unwittingly making her feel certain"lacks" in herself. He sought to reassure her.
"The main reason for a name is so you'll be known andremembered," he said. "As lovely a girl as you doesn't need morethan one name. There would never be a chance of your being confusedwith any other girl. No matter how many Sheena's there were in theworld, once a man saw you, the name Sheena would never mean anyonebut you."
She gravely considered his words. It was the first malecompliment she had ever received. It hadn't occurred to her thathow she looked might have any effect on a man. She pursed her lips,trying to figure out his exact meaning.
"You mean," she picked her words slowly, "that you find it goodto look upon me?"
Bob Reilly went through a considerable process of throatclearing. He should have remembered that women were quite unable toview any matter in the abstract. They dealt with everything on apurely personal basis. He noticed how she leaned her head forwardand frowningly looked herself over as though wondering what therecould be that was particularly pleasing about her.
"Anyone would say that you are unusually beautiful," he saidwith enforced calm. There, he had avoided the personal angle quiteneatly.
She smiled. You could see the pleasure grow in her. "I—Ifeel quite different," she said, "from your saying that."
He found himself watching her apprehensively, and it was with adistinct sense of relief that he saw her turn away, walk to theriver bank and lean over to study her reflection.
The monkey still squatted in his lap. He hadn't thought one ofthe little varmints could stay quiet so long. Maybe thefrozen-faced devil was trying to hypnotize him. Bob stole a glanceat Sheena, and certain she wasn't watching him, he made the mostvicious, menacing face he could at the monkey.
Chim registered absolutely no reaction. He didn't turn ahair.
Bob lifted his hands to his ears and waggled them in theuniversally insulting gesture of brattish children. Chim's hardlittle eyes didn't so much as move. Bob bared his teeth, made uglycroaking sounds deep in his throat.
Then with insulting slowness, the monkey raised his own hands tohis ears, twisted his black little features into a leering grimace,and mimicked the man's gestures with a brazen exactitude. When hehad finished, Chim made a sound suspiciously like a horse laugh,leaped to the ground and went skittering off across the clearing inhigh good humor.
BOB leaned back against the tree and closed hiseyes. Too much had happened to him in too short a time. "If I don'tpull myself together," he told himself, "I'll be going off mytrolley permanently." His conscience was hurting him because he wasdeliberately pushing away thoughts of the ambush and of what hisnext move must be. But he realized he was too confused and beat upto plan logically. The son of one of America's wealthiest men, Bobat twenty-three, with a hat full of scholastic and sports honorsand an eagerness to get out and prove himself in the world, hadfound himself faced with even more sterile, needless years ofstudy. His stepmother, as a means of getting him out fromunderfoot, had convinced his father it would be well to send himabroad for advanced schooling.
And the long submissive Bob finally rebelled. In an ugly scenewith his angry, desk-pounding father and coldly scornfulstepmother, he steadfastly asserted his independence, and ended bystalking out of the house in a white fury.
Imbued with a desire to get away from everything representinghis old life, he recalled an expedition being organized by one ofhis old professors to record and study native African languages. Hehad demonstrated an unusual aptitude for languages in school, andthat talent along with his general record of scholarship and thepublicity value of his name, made it an easy task for him to get onthe expedition as an assistant.
After three months in the bush, the elderly professor's healthbroke down and he had to return home, leaving Bob in charge. Ifanything, the work went better under the younger man's direction,and he began to feel he was going to show his father that he wasn'tthe only Reilly who could pull his own weight under difficultcircumstances.
But his desire to include the more primitive and little-knowntribes in his study drew him into the trackless depths ofunexplored territory. He had known there was danger and had takenwhat he considered were adequate steps to protect his safari. Butin his inexperience, he failed to realize the vast differencebetween the fighting qualities of his long subjugated coastalblacks and those of the fierce, marauding tribesmen of theinterior.
His guards and bearers were boastful enough about their fightingprowess until trouble came. Then they fled in panic, abandoningboth packs and weapons. And so Bob's attempt to stand on his ownfeet, to do something striking enough to impress his father, endedin utter disaster.
"I've botched the whole thing," he told himself. "I'm a failure.No expedition will give me a chance after this, and now my parentswill expect me to come crawling back to them. And I'll have theblood of those murdered men on my hands the rest of my life."
It was these torturing thoughts that Bob tried to push away fromhim as he sat in Sheena's clearing. At last his very weariness cameto his rescue. His chin dropped forward on his chest and he slidaway into a deep sleep.
Night had fallen when Bob awakened. A great silver moon lay lowin the sky. The moonlight washed the river with beauty, paintedshifting patterns on the ground beneath the tall trees. The weirdnight chorus of the jungle rose all about the clearing.
Bob sat up in alarm, unable at first to identify hissurroundings. A fire, burned down to red coals, glowed in thecenter of the clearing. He smelled the savory scent of a joint ofmeat grilling slowly over the fire.
"Where the devil am I?" he muttered, hurriedly reassuringhimself that his pistol was still in its holster.
Nothing moved in the clearing. It seemed utterly deserted. Thenhis glance caught on a dark bulk hunched not thirty feet from himin the shadow of a tree trunk. He caught his breath and waited. Thedark bulk moved, and abruptly, two slanting yellow eyes burnedwickedly at him from the shadows.
A huge cat lay crouched there, watching him!
That sight swept the cobwebs from his brain. He rememberedSheena and her savage pet. If Sheena had wandered off and left himalone with that beast, he wouldn't have a chance. He felt coldsweat trickling down his face.
What should he do? If he called out or moved, that devil mightcharge. He recalled the stories he had read about intrepid huntersplaying dead when through some accident they had found themselvesat the mercy of a lion.
But even as he thought of these storybook heroes, he saw Saborflatten himself on the ground, creep forward a good two-feet on hisbelly. He didn't feel the least bit intrepid at that moment.
"SHEENA!" he called loudly. "SHEENA!"
"Here I am." Her voice came from the direction of the river."What's wrong?"
"Get this blasted lion of yours away from me! He's ready tospring."
"Oh, is that all," she said, obviously relieved. "Don't worryabout Sabor. He wouldn't hurt you now for the world."
AT THE sound of his mistress' voice, Sabor stood up and lookedtoward the river. The instant those yellow eyes were off of him,Bob was up and around behind the tree against which he had beenleaning. Once out of sight of the cat, he streaked for anothertree, further away. When he reached it safely, he began to work hisway toward the water with all the care of an infantryman underheavy fire.
He reached the bank muttering. A hasty glance over themoon-swept water failed to reveal any sign of her. He looked overhis shoulder. Sabor was moving toward him with slow steps, pausingevery few feet to sniff the night air.
Bob turned back toward the river just in time to see Sheena'shead break the surface of the water. Of all the cold-blooded women,he thought. She amuses herself by swimming around under water whileher man-killing pet stalks me.
She saw him in the moonlight. "I was beginning to think younever would wake up," she said. "Come on in the water. It feelswonderful. The meal won't be ready for awhile yet anyway."
With Sabor stalking him, there was no room in Bob's mind for theproprieties. In nothing flat, he had tugged off his boots andstripped to his shorts. Cats, even big cats, didn't like water. Hewould be safe in the river.
Bob took two running steps and drove out over the water in aracing dive. He drove out toward mid-stream with a smooth powerfulstroke, leaving a frothing wake.
"How swiftly you go," she exclaimed as he swam up to her. "Likethe finny ones themselves! Oh, if only I could swim that way! I'vestudied every animal I could, trying to learn better ways ofswimming, but none of them can match you."
He had meant to lecture to her about Sabor. But he found himselfsaying almost moderately, "You've got to do something about thatlion. Didn't you realize he was creeping up to kill me?"
"Faugh," she said mildly. "On the trail—yes—he wouldhave killed you. But now he understands you're my friend. He's beenlying there looking at you since long before dark. After all, henever saw a white man before and he's kind of interested."
"I tell you he even came creeping after me down to the river,"insisted Bob. "I don't like him and he doesn't like me."
Sheena laughed. On the shore the black-maned lion coughedirritably. Both the man and the girl glanced toward him. He wasstanding with his head high, staring out at them over thewater.
"Well, Sabor probably thinks we would be better off withoutyou," she confessed, "but I told him you belonged to me and toleave you alone. And he'll do it!"
Bob's mind had stopped dead on the words, "I told him youbelonged to me." He was suddenly puzzled. What was going on in thehead of this wild, young, pagan girl?
The next thing he knew she was swimming so close to him that hecould feel the touch of her bare leg against his as she treadedwater.
"I've been thinking about what you said to me this afternoon,"she suddenly declared.
Her eyes were disturbingly large and luminous in themoonlight.
"What was that?" he asked.
"About you finding me good to look upon," she explained. "Thatmade me very happy. I couldn't really understand what you meant atfirst," Sheena went on. "I've never been around any men of my ownkind, so it hadn't occurred to me that—well—that theymight like me or not like me."
"Yes. Quite so," Bob said uneasily. "Don't you think you shouldlook at the food?"
Sheena's face was instantly sympathetic. "Oh, I forgot," shesaid. "I'm not used to having visitors. You must be starving."
Before he could move, she had thrust her feet against the riverfloor and stood up. He realized for the first time that she swamunclad and her suddenly revealed beauty made his breath catch inhis throat. Her bare body was a picture of Aphrodite rising fromthe sea.
Sheena waded to the bank. With a child's innocence, she stoodthere smoothing the glistening drops of water from her body withher hands. After leisurely donning her halter and shorts, shewalked across to the fire and inspected the joint of meat cookingover the crossbars.
When Sheena called him to eat, Bob dressed hurriedly in theshadow of a tree and joined her near the fire. The food wasdelicious and he ate huge quantities of it, but actually he hardlytasted it or knew what he was eating.
Never in his life had Bob felt such conflicting emotions aboutanyone as he did about the jungle girl. He kept stealing glances atSheena as she moved back and forth from the fire, waiting on him,or while she sat cross-legged beside him, eating with unconcealedenjoyment. She shone with happiness.
And suddenly he realized that he was happy too. By all rights,he felt he should have been wallowing in the depths of despair. Hewas lost in the depths of an untracked jungle, hunted by murderoustribesmen, left without any adequate means of protecting himself.Yet never had he felt so vibrantly alive as he did now.
THE raucous argument of parrots on a limb abovehim awakened Bob in the morning. He had slept near the fire, usinga zebra skin thrown over freshly-cut grasses for his bed. Themoment he sat up, his eyes went to the tree house high abovehim.
He realized that his first thoughts were of the blonde-hairedgirl. "This won't do," he warned himself. "I'm supposed to be aserious, intelligent adult." He got up and began to pace theclearing, forcing everything out of his mind but his wreckedexpedition. He had to decide what to do.
He could be a quitter, write off the expedition as a total lossand concentrate on trying to get out of this scrape with his ownskin whole. Under the circumstances, that didn't seem tooillogical.
But Bob kept remembering that a good part of the records of theexpedition were in those packs abandoned by the bearers. TheBambala were certain to gather up the packs, cart them back totheir village as loot. Until he knew those records were definitelydestroyed, he felt bound to try to recover them.
Then, even though the cowardice of his blacks was the realreason for the debacle, he considered it his duty to go to the helpof any who had survived the attack. The Bambala wouldn't haveslaughtered them all. Once certain their victims were tooterrorized to fight back, they would have begun takingprisoners.
And after an hour of pacing and fretting, he made up his mind.He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't make asincere attempt to free the surviving bearers and retake therecords he had so painstakingly gathered. Yet even as the resolvewas formed, he felt himself doomed to failure.
How could he, with a handful of pistol cartridges and an abysmalignorance of the jungle, hope to strike any kind of a blow againstthe savage Bambala?
Bob was surprised to see Sheena suddenly stride from the jungle.He had thought her still asleep in the tree house. She leaned herspear against a tree, walked over and stirred the fire to life.
"I left early," she said. "I thought it wise to check on theBambala." She knelt, placed four fresh sticks of wood in theflames.
"The Bambala didn't turn back as I had hoped," she saidabruptly. "They are searching for us now."
SHE loosened a leather pouch belted about her slim waist, laidit on a clean rock beside the fire. Then, after selecting a long,pointed stick from a collection held in a large gourd, she reachedin the pouch and drew out a freshly cleaned and dressed bird. Sheheld it up for him to see before she spitted it on the stick forcooking.
"I thought these birds might please you for the morning meal,"she said. And so he would understand they were something special,she added, "I hunted for them quite awhile."
The girl utterly baffled Bob. She seemed to have dismissed theblack warriors from her mind. After learning those murderous devilswere searching them out, how could she calmly go hunting and thencome back to enjoy a leisurely meal.
"The birds look wonderful," he said without enthusiasm. "Butfrankly, Sheena, shouldn't we be getting out of here instead ofthinking of eating?"
"Leave?" she said, surprised. "This is my home!"
"You can't fight off a whole tribe," he told her.
Her eyes flashed. "I can cause them enough trouble to make themwish they hadn't come. I've done it before."
"But they'll come back, Sheena," he said gravely. "And they'llkeep coming back until one day they'll catch you."
She fitted the spitted birds onto the forked supports which heldthem over the fire. She stood up and brushed her hands. The merestshadow crossed her face.
"Death must come to every living creature," declared the girl."I will not be afraid when my time comes." She spoke with thefatalism of those to whom danger is a constant companion.
"Is there a way, Sheena," he asked suddenly, "for me to circlearound these warriors and reach their village? I'd guess that mostof the able-bodied men are hunting for us. This might be my bestchance to slip into their village and try to free any of thebearers who were captured. If there are enough of them and they'llhelp me, maybe I can even recover my records."
Sheena turned in alarm. Though she had talked calmly enough ofdeath in regard to herself, she now exclaimed, "Are you trying tokill yourself? You must be mad to speak of such a thing!"
He blinked at her, taken aback by her reaction. She pacedrapidly back and forth in front of him.
"I haven't the least desire to get anywhere near that village,"he admitted honestly, "but it is my duty to do it."
"Duty? I do not know this word!" She was like an arousedleopard, lithe and quick, with a wildness in her eyes. "I will nothave you put yourself in danger. I will not have it, youunderstand!"
Bob scratched his head and frowned. He hadn't anticipatedanything like this.
"It's all right for you to play dangerous games with theBambala, but not me. Is that it?"
She gave her long blonde hair a savage toss. "I am different,"she snapped. "I am Sheena!"
She reached him with quick steps, shook a finger in his face."Put this notion from your head. You are not to go anywhere nearthat kraal of dangos."
"You saved my life, Sheena," he answered gently, "and I'm deeplygrateful, but I'm not a new pet who will meekly do your bidding.There are some things a man must do if he is to live withhimself."
And he tried to explain to her then why he had to make a stab athelping the bearers and recovering the work of many months.
"You owe those men nothing," she told him with harsh, femininelogic. "They did not value their freedom enough to fight for it. Asto this work you talk of, I do not understand about it too much,but it can't be important enough to lose your life over."
"Nevertheless, I must go," he said firmly.
She was very close to him. The changeful blue depths of her eyessoftened, losing the storminess of a moment before. The warm, girlscent of her came up to Bob.
He watched the curve of her full, red lips. Her teeth were smalland fine and white. He had never known any woman who stirred him asshe did.
Suddenly the tight control he had exerted over himself snapped.Before he knew what he did, he reached his arms about her andpressed his mouth to hers.
The startled girl's eyes flew wide. She stiffened as thougheither to fight or run. But she let him draw her into his embrace,made no attempt to take her mouth from his.
Abruptly he released her, but he could not move away because sheheld him with the rigidness of her arms about his neck.
"I'm sorry, Sheena," he mumbled, "I shouldn't have done that.I—I didn't mean to do it." He was embarrassed and angry withhimself. "I only meant to tell you that though I wish I never hadto see another Bambala, I have to go to their village."
Sheena slid her arms from his neck and stepped back. Thestrange, startled expression was still on her face. Her right handcame up to touch her mouth.
"Why did—what did you do?" she faltered.
Bob frowned, momentarily puzzled. Then he was more embarrassedthan ever. Sheena had no idea what a kiss was.
"I kissed you," he said. And then he didn't know what to saynext.
"But why?" she demanded.
"Uh—well, I just couldn't help myself." His face reddened."Among our people, when a man?" That didn't sound right. "It's acustom. It—it means—no, that's not what I want to say."He bumbled on in a growing confusion of unfinished sentences.
"You mean," Sheena asked, "that among people with white skin itis like when a native man rubs noses with a girl?"
"Yes," he granted uncomfortably. He considered how swiftlyfeminine instinct had taken her to the heart of the matter.
"I have seen them," she said thoughtfully. She touched her lipswith her fingers. "This is a strange thing, this 'kiss,' verystrange." Then slowly, she smiled and nodded her head. "But it isfar better than the natives' custom. I think our people must bevery wise. First, there was the firestick which kills at adistance, then the superior way of swimming, and now thismatter."
"Then you aren't angry with me?" ventured Bob.
She contemplated him gravely. "No," she said softly. "I shouldlike you to do it again, now when I wouldn't be so surprised."
Bob swallowed heavily. "Not now," he declared. His breath camevery fast. "No, not now." He might have proved himself a sorry kindof man by making a mess of his expedition, he told himself, buthe'd be damned if he was sorry enough to take advantage of Sheena'sinnocence. She had saved his life. The least he could do was tobehave himself.
SHEENA sighed, tapped a forefinger against her teeth for a fewmoments.
"Do not worry, Bob. If you must go through with this Bambalafoolishness," she said in unexpected capitulation, "Sheena willmake you a plan. You sit here and rest. Fretting is not good foryou."
He was relieved to know she wasn't going to continue heropposition, though he didn't take seriously her easy assurance thatshe would provide a plan. She was an unusual girl, but a foray suchas he contemplated was rather out of a woman's line. He was amusedby her swift shift from the role of a naive, young maiden to thatof a wise elder mothering a child.
But later, after they had eaten, when he still hadn't laid holdof the vaguest notion of how to carry through his project, shecalmly and confidently told him how the job could be done.
She said, "This will work—if anything will. I know theBambala, how they think. And fortunately for us, only women and oldmen will be in the kraal."
Bob listened in amazement. Never in a thousand years would sounorthodox a scheme have occurred to him. But, by George, it mightwork. It was bold and dangerous, yet properly executed it could sostun and frighten the tribesmen that he would have time to free hisbearers and gather up his records before a hand was raised againsthim.
Then his face suddenly fell. Tamba was the keystone of the wholeplan, which he realized on second thought meant that Sheena wascounting herself in on the raid.
"Oh, no," he cried. "You're taking no part in this. The planwon't do. I'm not risking your life on business that just concernsme."
Sheena regarded the determined set of his jaw and smiled.
"You're mistaken," she said mildly. "The fight is entirelyyours. I mean only to help you get ready for it and guide you tothe village. If I order it, Tamba will do your bidding well enoughto get you through."
Bob subsided. "Well, that's different," he said. "I won't haveyou running any more risks on my account. Look at the trouble I'vealready caused you."
Throughout the day, Bob kept worrying that they should leave thecamp, but Sheena refused to be hurried. After several trips intothe jungle to gather a strange assortment of bulbs, roots, anddank, yeasty growths, she had settled down to mixing a white,glue-like substance.
"Chim and Sabor are keeping an eye on the Bambala," she toldhim. "They'll let us know when the dangos get too close."
Bob didn't share her confidence in the two pets. And the factthat Chim would get bored about every two hours and return to campto see what Sheena was doing didn't help his nerves. After thejungle girl had chased the grumbling ape back to his post for thethird time, she made a further confession to ease Bob'stension.
"I laid enough false trails this morning to keep the Bambalabusy until nightfall, unless they should get very lucky," sheexplained. "And scattered along each trail are unpleasant littlesurprises to discourage them from hurrying."
She didn't go into detail about the surprises and he didn't askher to, for her grim tone brought crowding into his mind thevariety of murderous traps he had seen black men use in hunting:camouflaged pits, drawn bows released when a vine in the path wastouched, tiny, poisoned bamboo splinters set in the earth, snaresthat would jerk a grown bushbuck eight feet in the air and breakits neck, bent saplings that would hammer a lion into pulp.
But the revelation of how she had occupied the early morningshook him as badly as had the realization that Sabor, far more thana pet, was a deadly weapon she employed against her enemies.
When he looked at her now, he saw a young, mild, soft-voicedgirl, anxious to please, quick to laugh. He felt at ease with thisgirl. In truth, he felt pleasantly superior. Then abruptly, shewould shatter this mould into which he had fitted her, revealing bysome action that she was more a sister to a tawny, dangerouslioness than the conventional being he tried to believe her tobe.
How could he reconcile the shy, soft-mouthed girl he had held inhis arms for a moment that morning with the Sheena who could meetand best the black warriors at their own savage game?
It made him almost afraid of the girl. You couldn't guess whatreally went on in that head of hers or predict how she would reactin a given situation. How could he be sure she wouldn't turn onhim, if he made a move that rubbed her the wrong way?
Sheena was too busy to notice any change in him. Not until lateafternoon did she plug up with a stopper of wadded leaves the lastof five large gourds of the thick, whitish liquid. She glanced atthe low-lying sun and then came over to where Bob sat, thenstretched out on her side on the ground beside him.
She smiled up at him, her head cushioned on her right arm. "Thenight ahead may be long," she said simply. "I will rest until Chimcomes. He would never forgive me for leaving him behind."
She closed her eyes, took a few slow, deep breaths and wasimmediately asleep. Bob blinked in amazement. "That's not human,"he told himself. "She even sleeps like a cat."
He set his jaw firmly and looked away into the jungle. But inless than a minute his gaze had crept back to the sleeping formbeside him. He studied the way the long, blonde hair tumbled abouther face and shoulders, examined the long lashes lying heavyagainst her golden skin, watched with something more thanscientific interest, the manner in which her red lips pouted insleep.
The daylight was nearly gone when Bob realized with a start thatSheena's eyes were open and that for some time she had beensilently watching him.
His confusion wasn't lessened when she said, "Chim growsimpatient with my laziness."
As though ear plugs had been drawn from his ears, he suddenlyheard a monkey chattering and grumbling in the tree above them. Howlong the little devil had been there he didn't know, but apparentlyfor a considerable period. And though Chim had made enough noise torouse Sheena from sleep, Rob hadn't even been conscious of hispresence.
"It was nice to awaken and find you sitting beside me," shesaid, putting a hand on his arm. "But I couldn't help but wonderwhat you were thinking that made you frown so."
He got up quickly, avoiding her gaze. "I was thinking of theraid," he lied.
"Oh," she said quietly. And he had a queer feeling that she wassmiling inwardly.
WHILE they waited for it to become full dark, they ate a lightmeal of fruit and nuts. Then Sheena called Tamba, and tied thegourds on him so they wouldn't rattle or spill. Like the low,distant rumble of thunder, came the roar of a lion. After a briefinterval, answering cries from widely separated points in thejungle could be heard.
"The Bambala are close, but they won't do much more travelingtonight," said Sheena grimly. "That first roar was Sabor's victorycry, telling the jungle he had made an easy kill. Every cat withinhearing will head for that area. I think we can move safelynow."
And so in the pitch blackness before the moon rose, Tambacarried them along secret trails past the Bambala patrols. Bob, whohad worried about the nervous, talkative Chim going along withthem, noticed that the monkey huddled in front of Sheena and neveruttered a sound. He was about ready to believe that the junglegirl's pets did understand what was going on.
It was after midnight when Sheena halted the elephant in amoonlit glade. "We'll do our work here," she said. "The kraal iswithin arrow shot."
She unfastened the gourds, detached two of them, and lowered theothers carefully to the ground.
"I'll paint his head and back," she told Bob. "You take care ofhis legs and stomach."
A half-hour later the patient elephant had been smearedcompletely over with the thick, white liquid brewed by Sheena. Butin the darkness, the liquid revealed a property not discernibleduring daylight. It glowed with an eerie, phosphorescent light.
Bob stood off and looked at Tamba. "By Harry," he exclaimed,"he's the most unearthly-looking sight I ever hope to see. And thathazy, bluish glow makes him look twice as big as he is. A creaturelike that looming out of the night would frighten anyone."
"The Abama witch woman who brought me up used it in her magic,"explained Sheena. "I often helped her gather the materials and mixit."
Bob looked at his hands, glowing with light from the mixture hehad smeared over the elephant. "I believe it may work," heexcitedly declared, "if the Bambala are as superstitious as yousay."
"Let us hope so," the girl said quietly. "There will be dangerenough at best."
Sheena had picked up the vine rope which had been used to tiethe gourds on Tamba. As she talked, she idly toyed with it, formingloose coils on the ground with one end, twisting and gathering theother end in an odd pattern.
"Well, this finishes your part of the job, anyway," said Bob."You've been wonderful to help me."
He tried to tell her how grateful he was, but he seemed suddenlyclumsy with words and his voice took on an unnaturalbrusqueness.
He finished lamely by saying, "I'd better paint myself up now.And then as soon as you get me started off on Tamba, I want you toget away from here—and stay away. You've taken too manychances on my account already."
Sheena didn't look at him. She kept her head down, her fingersnervously working with the rope. "Yes, Bob," she said.
She seemed small and feminine and terribly forlorn in themoonlight. The sight of her caught Bob's heart and twisted it. Hehad been a rotten, miserable heel to think of her as he had thatafternoon.
He couldn't leave her this way. He had to take her in his arms,tell her how he felt about her. He took two steps towards her."Sheena," he said hoarsely, "before I go—"
As though her mind had been turned inward and she hadn't heardhim, she suddenly interrupted. "The paint, Bob—it must be drybefore you mount Tamba. Hold out your hands and let me see if it isdrying properly."
Her taut, businesslike tone, so out of harmony with the moodthat had swept over him, stopped Bob in his tracks. Almost angrily,he shoved out his hands for her inspection.
As to what happened next, he was to try many times afterwards torecall exactly how it did occur. But he was never to be entirelycertain about any of it.
Sheena leaned as though to inspect his hands. The next thing heknew the vine rope she had been idly fingering snapped about hiswrists. "What the devil?" he exclaimed.
Before he could realize what she was about, Sheena leapedbackwards, the rope running through her hands with the speed of astriking snake. Then she flipped the rope, gave a powerfultug—and Bob's feet shot from under him.
One end of the vine was lashed about his wrists, the other abouthis ankles. There had been careful planning behind all hernonchalant handling of the rope while they talked. The loops shehad thrown on the ground with seeming carelessness were those sheflicked upward to lash his ankles, send him crashing to theground.
Despite the stunning force of the fall he took, Bob lashed outwildly, trying to break free. After darting in to snatch his pistolfrom its holster, Sheena stood a safe distance away, watching himstruggle. He fought like a maddened beast, his sanity momentarilysplintered by the terrible shock of her treachery.
But the bonds held, and at last he lay gasping, his musclestrembling from the violence of his efforts. Only then did he lookat her, letting the bitter acid of his wrath spill out inwords.
"And to think I believed in you, trusted you," he snarled. "Ishould have known you'd turn on me like an animal if it were toyour advantage."
His mouth was a vicious slit, his eyes narrow pools of hate. Hisgun made a dull thump as she dropped it at her feet.
"You fooled me, though," continued Bob. "I swallowed all yourhocus-pocus, never suspecting that you'd use me to buy your ownsafety. Very clever! You hand me over to the Bambala and therebybuy them off of your own trail. They were getting too close forcomfort. And you got to worrying that if I did raid their kraal anddid some damage, they'd never forgive you for helping me."
Sheena smoothed her hands nervously over her midriff, her faceexpressionless except for the eyes which seemed to glow in thenight. Finally, her right hand slid to the knife riding the curveof her hip. The blade gleamed coldly as she lifted it from thesheath.
BOB was abruptly still as he saw the bared steelin the jungle girl's hand. Then with withering contempt, he said,"Don't lose your head, my precious. The Bambala won't pay as muchfor me dead as they will alive. They, too, enjoy the pleasure ofkilling!"
A deep, pained frown cut Sheena's forehead. She had foreseeneverything in her planning except Bob's reaction. The awfulbitterness of his words took her by surprise.
"Yes, I play a hard trick on you," she said evenly. "But I playit to save your life, not take it away."
She turned her back on him. The gray trunk of a dead tree stoodat the edge of the clearing some thirty paces in front of her. Shecovered half the distance to the tree with quick steps. Then Sheenalifted the knife, sent it glittering through the air to drivepoint-first into the dead wood.
Bob had lifted himself with difficulty to a sitting position. Hewatched her fling the knife into the tree and hurry back to whereTamba waited.
"What did you mean about saving my life?" he demanded.
She picked up the remaining half-gourd of phosphorescent paint,literally poured it over her head and shoulders, saving back enoughto douse the protesting Chim. Then she painted both her spear andbow.
"I meant I am going in your place!" she snapped, rapidlysmearing the paint evenly over her. "Foolish one, Tamba would nevertake your orders, and besides, I know far more about handling theBambala than you do."
He stared at her aghast as she signaled Tamba to lift Chim andher to his back. "You intended this from the beginning?"
"Of course," she said, "if your men and packs can be wrestedfrom the Bambala, I will do it. If I fail, then you will still beable to save yourself."
"No!" he burst out indignantly. "I won't allow it!"
He was working clumsily with his fingers to loosen the bonds onhis ankles. Since Sheena had tied his hands in front of him, he hadno trouble reaching his feet.
"I tied you so you'd have to allow it," she said calmly. "Anddon't waste your strength trying to undo those knots. You'll needmy knife to get free. By the time you work your way over to thattree and get it loose, it will be too late for you to interfere atthe kraal."
Sheena lifted her pet ape, dropped him to the ground,
"However, on second thought I'll leave Chim to help take care ofyou. The noise he's making would work me harm, but his voice andlooks should protect you from anything less than a rhino."
She tried to force a light-hearted gayety into her tone, but theattempt wasn't wholly successful. "I go now!" she said abruptly,lifting her spear in an odd, quick salute.
Then Tamba was moving past Bob, bearing Sheena into the jungle.He pleaded with her not to go, nearer in his utter helplessness totears than at any time since his early childhood. Sheena, sittingramrod straight, didn't look back.
As the dark, green foliage closed behind her, Bob's voicetrailed away brokenly. He thought of things he had said to her inanger and was ashamed and miserable. She was going into thatvillage for him and only because of him.
He had called her an animal, immediately attributing the basestmotives to her. He remembered the hurt, surprised look on her faceas she heard his accusations. Yet she hadn't even rebuked him.
In that moment, the certainty crystallized in him that he wouldnever see Sheena again. She was riding to her death!
In one writhing effort, Bob heaved himself to his feet. He hadto get free and catch her. He reeled, his legs so tightly bound hecouldn't balance himself.
To keep from falling, he started hopping forward, each clumsyhop swifter and more desperate than the preceding one. But hisconvulsive efforts to regain his equilibrium were doomed tofailure. He got no more than five yards before he crashed heavilyto the hard earth.
The fall knocked the breath from him, yet he immediately foughtto his elbows and knees. He heard a weird gibberish sounding rightat his shoulder. He jerked his heel around and saw Chim crouched onhands and knees beside him. The ape, his eerily glowing faceseemingly wreathed with diabolical delight, was trying to assumethe same position as Bob.
The distraught man's temper exploded. "I'll teach you to mockme," he shouted. And he reared up on his knees, lifting his boundarms to knock the ape rolling.
But Chim divined his purpose instantly. With an alarmed screech,the ape bounded backwards and fled off across the clearing likesome small, incandescent demon. Bob shook his knotted fists infutile, senseless rage.
CHIM literally flew over the ground, his little head twistingright and left in search of a safe refuge. The gray outlines of thedead tree caught his attention as it had Sheena's when she lookedfor a place to plant the knife. The ape headed for the tree. Hescrambled up the trunk in mad haste, shooting past the knife toreach the bare lower limbs.
Not until then did he pause to look back. His staccato outburstrevealed surprise that the man hadn't moved. He fell silent,considering the matter. Then deciding he was quite safe, his wholemanner changed and he began climbing slowly down the tree, grandlyannouncing his outrage at being put upon like a common fellow.
When Chim reached the knife, he suddenly stopped his tirade. Herecognized the scent of his beloved mistress. He gave a delightedcry and tugged the knife free.
He beamed on the weapon. It was Sheena's. He would return it toSheena and she would be pleased with him. She was always very proudof him when he returned some belonging of hers that he found. Infact, if the truth were known, he often stole her belongings so hemight return them and have her pleased with him.
His run-in with Bob had slipped as completely out of Chim'serratic little mind as had his memory that Sheena was gone. Hishead didn't trouble itself very often to try to hold more than onenotion at a time.
He dropped from the tree and scampered happily back toward Bob.He was within three yards of the man when he realized Sheena wasnowhere in sight. Chim had been too angry about the white paintbeing poured on him to pay any attention to Sheena's departure, andafter that, Bob's antics had so engrossed him that he still didn'trealize he had been deserted.
All at once now it was borne in on him that his protector wasgone and that the terrible night so feared by the tree folk kepthim from finding her. Chim was suddenly frightened. He looked aboutat the dark trees, imagining fearful enemies staring at him.
Bob had no idea what went on in Chim's mercurial mind. The whiteman crouched on his knees, his breath coming in hard gasps. The apehad the knife. That was all that mattered.
From the moment Chim had pulled the knife from the tree andstarted back toward him, Bob had been afraid to speak or move. Hehad to get the weapon from the little devil. But how? After the wayhe had treated the monkey, a word or movement from him wouldprobably send Chim fleeing into the forest.
He wet his lips nervously, "Here Chim! Good boy, give me theknife." He uttered the words like a prayer. "Nice boy. I won't hurtyou."
Chim, who had hunkered down into a little glowing knot, liftedhis head and stared mournfully at the white man. Then he ducked hisface and shivered.
Bob kept talking in the gentle, wheedling tone. The monkeywouldn't budge. Bob gathered his courage and edged forward a fewinches. Without even lifting his head, Chim edged backward an equaldistance.
Bob groaned. He'd never get the knife, never in the world. Thelittle fool understood and obeyed every word Sheena spoke, yet atthis moment, when so much depended on it, he wouldn't heed a singlething Bob said to him.
And then abruptly, Bob realized that in his excitement, he hadbeen speaking in English. With his voice trembling with excitement,he switched to the Bambala tongue.
Chim straightened, cocking his head to listen. He seemed to feelbetter immediately. He began to chatter and moved cautiously intowards the man.
Bob was careful to make no sudden moves. Not until the ape hadsnuggled against him did he gently reach for the knife. To hisrelief, Chim seemed actually happy to give the weapon up. Bob'sface and hands were bathed with sweat and he was shaking as he cutaway his rope bonds.
He shoved the knife under his belt, ran to where Sheena haddropped his pistol. Then gun in hand, he raced toward the pointwhere the jungle girl had left the clearing, praying that he wouldbe able to follow her in the dark.
He was in luck for once. Tamba had left a clear trail where hehad forced his way through the undergrowth, and within a distanceof twenty yards, Bob hit a broad trail, From the angle at which theelephant had slanted into the trail, there was no doubting thedirection Sheena had taken.
AS HE started to run, a hysterical jabbering broke out behindhim. Chim, refusing to be abandoned, came rocketing out of theunderbrush and in an amazing leap, fastened himself on Bob's back.He hugged himself against the white man so tightly, his small heartpounding with fright, that Bob couldn't bring himself to throw himoff.
"All right," growled Bob. "You can play Old Man of the Sea untilwe come in sight of the kraal. Then you're going back on your own!"And with that, he sprinted on down the trail with redoubledeffort.
After Sheena left Bob tied in the clearing, she turned her wholemind to the task ahead of her. By the time she reached the Bambalakraal, the final details of her plan were perfected.
The walled village lay silent and sleeping in the waningmoonlight. If there were sentries posted, they rested listlesslyout of sight, lulled by the long, monotonous hours of earlymorning. The campfires had died to ash-whitened coals. Sheena hadcarefully selected this as the most propitious time for herraid.
The jungle girl urged Tamba straight up to the big main gate. Inthese first few moments, boldness would be her most valuableweapon. When the elephant slowed his pace before the gate, not yetunderstanding what was expected of him, Sheena drummed her heelsbehind his ears, drove him head-on against the massive barrier.
"Forward, O Mightiest of Elephants," she encouraged him. "Letthese jackals know your strength."
There was a splintering impact. For a moment, the mammoth bullseemed to hesitate. Then the big gate tore free of cross-bars andhinges, and fell inward with a mighty crash.
And Tamba, exhilarated by the exploit, lifted his trunk andtrumpeted in ear-splitting challenge to all comers as he carriedhis mistress into the kraal.
Two guards who had been dozing on a catwalk beside the gate,crouched frozen on their knees. Their eyes gleamed out of thedarkness like great, circular bulbs as they stared at the ghostlyapparition sweeping into the kraal.
"Tremble, you curs," cried Sheena, gesturing toward them withher spear, "for the curse of doom is on you! I, who am the servantof Gimshai, dread god of death, proclaim this doom on Bambala!"
Of all the fearsome jungle deities, the all-powerful Gimshaistruck the greatest terror into the hearts of black men. And asevery native knew, the servants of Gimshai appeared in a thousand,thousand different forms, and struck at their chosen victims inunnumbered ways.
The terror of one of the guards was so great that after hearingSheena's words he toppled forward senseless on the platform. Theother man, quaking in every muscle, jerked upright on the platform.Mindless, nerve-tearing screams ripped from his throat.
He literally dove off the catwalk, hit the ground withbone-breaking force. But fear anaesthetized any physical hurt hesustained, and he was on his feet and running immediately,streaking down the main way of the kraal.
The guard's screams ripped the blanket of sleep from thevillage. Commands, shouts, the sound of running feet boiled up fromthe dark clusters of huts. Dazed men and women poured from narrow,skin-hung doorways.
And into the very middle of this suddenly aroused ant-heap rodeSheena. Straight down the principal way of the village she went,looking to neither right nor left, the one completely calm,collected person in all that howling throng.
She and the mammoth elephant seemed enveloped in a swirling,blue-white haze of light. Tamba seemed even more immense than hereally was, and the din of his steady trumpeting, inspired byexcitement and the scent of the Bambala, was indeed like the soundof doom.
As the blacks, crowding out to learn the cause of thedisturbance, saw that white, statue-like figure that was Sheena,the loud furor died away like a fading echo. A low, frightened moanthat could have been the keening of the wind over a wasteland sweptback and back through the massing natives.
Then Sheena's voice, harsh and savage, was heard. "From theBlack Hole of Death, from the Skull-Throne of the Terrible Godhimself, I bring you the curse of Gimshai.
"Look at me, O members of a jackal-tribe! Look at me andtremble, for I am the Clawed Hand of Gimshai; I am the Net of theEater of Souls; I am the Sword of the God of Death."
Her words drove into the minds of the Bambala like poisoneddarts. Had she rehearsed her speech to Bob Reilly he would havethought it suicidal nonsense. But Sheena knew how to open thefloodgates of fear in her audience.
The entire existence of these wild and primitive natives was aweb of superstition. Any strange or unexplained phenomena theyattributed to gods or demons. And their over-active imaginationsseized on every untoward event and embroidered it with supernaturalsignificance.
Even now as they gazed at the strange, chalk-white she-demon,their imaginations swiftly added a variety of details to what theythought they saw. There were some who saw in the whiteness of herface the clear outlines of a death's-head. Others saw her longhair, stiffly encrusted with white liquid, as a mass of palesquirming snakes. Some would say afterwards her eyes were hollowblack sockets, others that they were red coals of fire.
It would be said that the spear in her hand squirmed andwriggled like a living thing, that the eerie, elephant-likeapparition she rode was no more than a mist through which one couldsee, that rivulets of cold flame ran outward along the ground wherethe creature's feet were placed.
Sheena's audience was especially impressionable on this nightwhen practically the whole of its fighting strength was absent.Excited by their triumph of the previous day, every warrior eagerlyhad sought to join the hunt for Bob Reilly and the jungle girl.
Left behind in the kraal were the untried youths, the men tooold or sick for trekking, and the easily frightened mass of womenand children.
Sheena had counted on the absence of the real fighting men as amajor help in the carrying out of her colossal bluff.
Now as she heard the whimpering of the women, saw the crowd edgebackward away from her, she boldly rode into the central clearing,abandoning any hope of retreat. She knew the crowd would massaround the open space, and if she were found out, that wall ofhumanity would prevent her from ever reaching the gate alive.
After the habit of the Bambala, both the prisoners and the lootgained in their attack on Bob's safari were kept on display in theclearing. The miserable bearers were crowded into a foul,make-shift pen like animals, and stacked near the enclosure werethe packs they once had carried.
The great feast and the ceremony of dividing the spoils whichalways followed a battle triumph were being delayed until Bob andSheena were captured.
Sheena headed the elephant toward the pen, wanting to free theprisoners and march them out of the kraal before the stunnedtribesmen could collect their wits.
But suddenly two of the large cooking fires in the clearingflickered into life. Yellow tongues of flame reached along theedges of the dry wood which had been thrown hastily on the coals.Sheena understood then the purpose of the commands that had soundedin the first uproar of her entrance, for revealed in the mountinglight was a hollow square of armed guards grouped about two men,the two most important men in the tribe.
One was Babuli, the immensely fat chieftain of the Bambala, abrutal, self-indulgent tyrant. The other was Nyag-Nyag, a tall,thin, one-eyed man with a hatchet face and the hunched posture of acrouching weasel.
Nyag-Nyag was the Bambala witch doctor, and more than any othermember of the tribe, he had reason to hate Sheena, for time andagain the most potent magic he could make against her had provedineffectual.
SHEENA instantly was disturbed when she saw thetwo tribal leaders with the ranks of hard-bitten guards rangedabout them. She certainly hadn't counted on their presence.Improvising to meet this unexpected danger, she hastily changed herplans and halted Tamba.
Gesturing contemptuously with her spear, she cried, "Hai! So nowI look upon the two chief jackals!"
The elephantine Babuli clearly was more shaken by her ghostlyappearance than the witch doctor. "Why—why—have youcome here?" he asked weakly.
Sheena was silent for long, ominous moments. Then like the crackof a whip her voice lashed him. "I come to take your soul toever-lasting torment! Even now, Gimshai wrathfully awaits yourcoming!"
The mammoth chieftain stumbled back a step, his great bellyquivering. The harsh confidence with which she spoke turned hisblood to ice.
"There is some terrible mistake," he quavered. "Never by word ordeed have I shown disrespect for Gimshai! Aaiiee, he is thegreatest of gods! In all the jungle, no one has sent him more soulsthan Babuli."
"It's too late to lie," Sheena said grimly. "You honor but onegod, N'Koto, god of war, and it is he who has led you to yourdownfall. Two suns ago you made a cowardly attack upon the safariof one who holds the special favor of Gimshai. The Taker of Soulsreached out his hand and saved this white man, saying for thedestruction you had wrought you would pay with your life. And so Ihave come to exact payment!"
Babuli seemed to be choking. His eyes stood out like round, redmarbles. Poisoned by a lifetime of superstition, he felt thatalready the life-force was being sucked from his body, that thefluttering in his throat was his soul struggling to escape.
"Talk to her! Appease her!" he gasped to the witch doctor. "Youknow more of gods and demons than I do. Promiseanything—anything—if she will let me be."
With his one good eye, the witch doctor had been glaring atSheena. He was not as naive as Babuli, nor as superstitious as theother tribesmen. He had practiced too much trickery and deceit,pawned off too much humbug as magic, to be taken in easily bySheena's tricks.
He sensed something familiar in this ghostly intruder, notedalso how she sought to keep back out of the firelight. It seemed tohim that every time an especially high leap of the flames lightedher mount that its eerie blue-white glow disappeared.
Yet because he was both a cunning man and a coward, Nyag-Nyagproceeded with care.
He pushed through the ranks of warriors, picked a blazing stickfrom the fire. He lifted the torch high as though to clearly lighthimself for Sheena's eyes.
"Hear me, O One Who Walks the Night," he said in a false,fawning voice. "I make no plea for my worthless, unimportant self,but I do plead for the noble Babuli."
He edged nearer to Tamba as he talked, narrowly watching theeffect of the torchlight on the elephant's glowing whiteness.
"Never would Babuli knowingly offend the dread Taker of Souls,"he continued. "If a wrong has been done by Babuli, he stands readyto make any gifts, offering or sacrifices the god decrees.Intercede for us, O Great One, and the Bambala will honor youendlessly. Help us to right our unmeant wrong! You have only tospeak."
Relief surged through Sheena as she listened to Nyag-Nyag'sabject beseeching. The feeling that she had triumphed lessened herwariness, so that she failed to divine the witch doctor's purposein coming so near.
"Gimshai is merciful, as are his servants," she said haughtily."If you have the courage to accompany me into the Black Hole ofDeath to plead your case before the god himself, you may doso—remembering that if you fail, there can be no return."
Nyag-Nyag seemed to debate before muttering, "I have thecourage."
Sheena stared at him. "But you must approach Gimshai with cleanhands." She gestured at the imprisoned bearers and stacked loot."You must give up the spoils of your cowardly attack. You must freethe bearers and give them back their arms and you must furnish mento carry these packs to their destination."
The huge-bellied chieftain, who had been bathed in sweat as hewaited for Sheena's answer, literally shouted his acceptance of herterms. He was concerned with his own safety only, and cared not awhit that he might be sending a large group of his followers totheir death.
"All shall be as you say!" Babuli shouted hoarsely, not wantingto give the witch doctor time to back out of his bargain. Then heturned to his guards in the same frenzied haste, crying, "Releasethe prisoners! Gather men enough to carry the packs! Quickly, youcurs!"
But even as the chieftain spoke, Nyag-Nyag sprang back away fromTamba, swirling the torch about his head. "No!" he roared. "Let noman move."
BABULI was so aghast that it took him a moment to find hisvoice. His body quivered in outrage at this treachery. "I amchieftain here," he croaked.
"You're a fool, Babuli," snarled the witch doctor, "as blind andstupid a fool as all these others!"
It was in Nyag-Nyag's mind that after tonight he would neveragain have to bend his knee to the fat chieftain. What he was aboutto do would make Babuli a laughingstock at the same time that itenhanced his reputation as a wizard.
"Because I amuse myself by toying with this faker," the witchdoctor said, pointing at Sheena, "don't take my acting seriously.She is no demon, no servant of Gimshai."
"What are you saying?" squeaked the chieftain, seeing hischances of salvation being shattered before his eyes.
Nyag-Nyag laughed, thinly baring his yellow teeth. "I'm sayingthis supposed demon is merely Tioto Nomi, the Forest Woman. I'msaying it takes more than children's tricks to fool the jungle'sgreatest wizard."
Dismay had wrenched Sheena stiffly upright. But her reaction wasno different from that which shook Babuli and his tribesmen. Thewitch doctor's words had exploded with the violence of athunderbolt.
"You madman!" wailed Babuli. "You'd get us all killed. You knowas well as I that our warriors are pursuing Tioto Nomi far acrossthe jungle."
Nyag-Nyag had backed close to the guards. He tossed away historch, took a spear and shield from one of the blacks. Then he ranout into the open space between Sheena and the warriors.
"Watch this test, my simple Babuli," he sneered. "And you neednot faint from terror, because the risk falls on me alone." Hiswhole manner was supremely confident. "A thousand shields would notprotect me from a servant of Gimshai, because such a servant wouldbe able to kill with a glance—a sign—a thought."
The ugly laughter bubbled from his lips again. After tonight,his name would ring through the jungle.
"But one shield is protection enough against Tioto Nomi," hesaid, "because her only weapon is her spear. She has no magicpowers. Watch while I prove it! And stand ready, guards, to strikeher down when she betrays herself by trying to use her one, punyweapon."
Sheena sat stupefied, a knot of panic growing and spreading inher breast. The cunning, one-eyed dango had trapped her. She soughtin futile desperation for some means of escape, knowing full wellthat the game was played out.
Nyag-Nyag was leaping and dancing in front of her, alwayscareful to protect himself behind the thick, heavy shield of rhinohide. "Quickly, Tioto Nomi," he taunted, "loose your terriblemagic. Kill me with a look! Kill me with a thought!"
A stifling hush gripped the kraal. In the shadows around thecentral clearing, black men crouched, afraid to breathe. Babulileaned forward, his face like gray paste, his mouth hanging looselyopen.
"Come, O Would-be Demon," the prancing wizard jeered, "I waitfor you to strike. Why do you hesitate? You try my patience, makeme weary of this farce."
Sheena's mouth was dust-dry. The death she had sought to saveBob Reilly from was to be hers. And now he was to be lost to herfinally and forever.
As ominous muttering stirred the watching blacks. Nyag-Nyag'sridicule was having its effect. Already the guards were edgingforward, their hands tightening on their spears.
Sheena's own spear arm tensed. Her bluff was finished. At least,she would take a few of them with her. She gritted her teeth,prepared to send Tamba charging into the guards.
Nyag-Nyag's gloating laughter rang high. "Hear me, Tioto Nomi,"he shrilled. "I spit on you and on your fathers! What greaterinsult can one give?"
His prancing and his high-pitched screams were too much forTamba. The huge bull elephant lifted his trunk and trumpeted withear-splitting violence. The very air shivered with the ragingsound.
Nyag-Nyag looked up startled. Then a very strange thinghappened. The hatchet-faced wizard gave a queer backward leap asthough he had been struck a powerful blow. His face twisted inagony and he staggered.
He let the spear drop from his fingers, and the weight of theshield slowly drew his left arm down to his side. His stringymuscles began jerking and twitching.
His single eye bulged with terror. Then his long thin legsstarted to buckle. All at once his mouth strained wide and a greatwash of blood rushed from his lips.
That was the end. Nyag-Nyag toppled forward on his face and laystill.
Tamba fell silent at almost that same moment. It wasunbelievable that a native kraal could be so still. And in thatprofound hush, you could feel terror sweep like a black wind overthe stunned natives.
Sheena was as shocked as the tribesmen. She stared blankly atthe dead wizard. She hadn't moved a muscle to harm him, yet therelay the hated Nyag-Nyag, stiffening in death.
What miracle was this? What invisible power had reached out inher hour of need to strike down that human dango?
But the jungle girl was given no time to dwell on that mystery.Babuli's hysterical screams jolted her alert. The hog-fat chieftainhad crumbled to his knees and was beseeching her not to kill him,not to blame him for Nyag-Nyag's blasphemies. Tribesmen all aboutthe clearing were groveling in abject terror.
They thought she had slain the wizard!
SHE moved swiftly to take advantage of the situation. Though soupset herself that she could barely keep her voice from trembling,Sheena sternly repeated the demands she had made before. And thistime the prisoners were immediately freed and Babuli's disarmedguards hurriedly loaded themselves down with the stolen packs withno thought of opposing Sheena.
Babuli collapsed in a blubbering heap, but Sheena delegated fourof the bearers to prod him to his feet with their spears. Theremaining bearers she placed along both sides of the pack-ladenBambala.
"Now trek," she shouted. "And any man who causes trouble willjoin Nyag-Nyag in his ever-lasting torment."
Her threat sent the column through the kraal at a stumblingtrot. All idea of resistance was gone from the Bambala. As sheurged Tamba after the bearers, the natives pressed their faces inthe dirt, afraid to look at her.
Once outside the kraal, she forged to the head of the column,leading it back along the trail toward where she had left BobReilly. But before she had gone very far, she heard a franticchattering, saw an eerie, glowing little figure come skitteringdown the dim path toward her.
"Chim!" she cried in surprise, and with a quick command, she hadthe elephant swing the little ape up beside her.
Chim bounded into her arms, fairly sputtering with delight atfinding his mistress again. Then Sheena's keen ears heard anothersound. She looked up to see Bob advancing out of the darkness. Herinitial thought was that he might still be angry at her.
But there was unutterable relief, not anger, in his voice as heexclaimed, "Thank heavens you're out of that place at last! Youwere crazy to take such a chance, but it was the most wonderfulthing I've ever seen."
"You mean you saw what went on in the kraal?" she asked,surprised.
"I not only saw—thanks to Chim, not you," he said, "but Itook a small part in the proceedings. I'll frankly admit that Icould never have pulled off the bluff you did."
He told her then how when he reached the kraal the witch doctorhad just begun to taunt her. Since the natives were allconcentrated in the center of the village, he was able to enter thegate unobserved. He had sneaked close to the clearing, and climbedup on a pile of wood stacked beside a hut.
With his pistol, he had blasted Nyag-Nyag. The sound of the shothad been covered by Tamba's wrathful trumpeting. And the unholyfear that had struck into the Bambala when they saw their witchdoctor die had kept them from suspecting that any hand butGimshai's had slain Nyag-Nyag.
"So you were the one who saved me," she said wonderingly.
Bob laughed. "I believe I could say the same for you."
They were a mile further down the trail and the false dawn wasgraying the sky when Sheena halted the elephant.
Bob sat behind her on the forest giant's back. "What do we donow?" he asked.
She gave him a long, searching look. "You will take Babuli andhis guards with you and see that they are punished. You'll have nomore trouble with the Bambala, so you can easily reach white man'scountry with your records."
"You—you—aren't going out with me?" Bob wassurprised and confused.
"This is my own land," she said, gesturing toward the darkjungle with her hand. "There are many things I can do to make it abetter land. I have found myself tonight, as the old witch womanonce prophesied I would."
Her head lifted and she looked up at the brightening sky.
"But you can't stay here, a lone girl," said Bob. "I've grownvery fond of you, Sheena. I want you to go with me. I thought thatyou and I..."
"Even if I wished it," she interrupted him gently, "I could notgo with you. I am a priestess and more to the Abamas. They havebeen awaiting the day when I would be ready to lead them. And now Iam ready. It would mean your certain death if you tried to take meaway."
And so it was that a frowning, unhappy man a few minutes laterwatched Sheena ride away alone toward the Abama kraal. He stoodthere with the soft warmth of her good-bye kiss on his lips, vowingthat Abama warriors or not, he would be back as soon as his trek tothe coast was finished.
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