Tarzan cared little for the fate of adventurer Brian Gregory, drawn to the legendary city of Ashair by the rumor of the Father of Diamonds, the world's hugest gem. But to the ape-man the tie of friendship was unbreakable, and Paul d'Arnot's pleas moved him to agree to guide the expedition Gregory's father and sister organized for his rescue. The enigmatic Atan Thome was also obsessed with the Father of Diamonds, and planted agents in the Gregory safari to spy out its route and sabotage its efforts. Both parties reached their goal, remote Ashair . . . as prisoners of its priests, doomed to die in loathsome rites.

genre : Action & Adventure

5 hour and 7 minute

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Tarzan and the Forbidden City

Edgar Rice Burroughs

Published: 1938

Categorie(s): Fiction, Action & Adventure

Source: http://gutenberg.net.au About Burroughs:

Edgar Rice Burroughs (September 1, 1875 – March 19, 1950) was an American author, best known for his creation of the jungle hero Tarzan, although he also produced works in many genres. Source: Wikipedia

Also available on Feedbooks Burroughs:

- Tarzan of the Apes (1912)

- A Princess of Mars (1912)

- John Carter and the Giant of Mars (1940)

- The Gods of Mars (1918)

- A Fighting Man of Mars (1930)

- The Master Mind of Mars (1927)

- Swords of Mars (1934)

- The Warlord of Mars (1918)

- The Chessmen of Mars (1922)

- Synthetic Men of Mars (1939)

Copyright: This work is available for countries where copyright is Life+50.

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Chapter 1

THE RAINY SEASON was over; and forest and jungle were a riot of lush green starred with myriad tropical blooms, alive with the gorgeous coloring and raucous voices of countless birds, scolding, loving, hunting, escaping; alive with chattering monkeys and buzzing insects which all seemed to be busily engaged in doing things in circles and getting nowhere, much after the fashion of their unhappy cousins who dwell in unlovely jungles of brick and marble and cement.

As much a part of the primitive scene as the trees themselves was the Lord of the Jungle, lolling at his ease on the back of Tantor, the elephant, lazing in the mottled sunlight of the noonday jungle. Apparently oblivious to all his surroundings was the ape-man, yet his every sense was alert to all that passed about him; and his hearing and his sense of smell reached out far beyond the visible scene. It was to the latter that Usha, the wind, bore a warning, to his sensitive nostrils—the scent spoor of an approaching Gomangani. Instantly Tarzan was galvanized into alert watchfulness. He did not seek to conceal himself nor escape, for he knew that only one native was approaching. Had there been more, he would have taken to the trees and watched their approach from the concealment of the foliage of some mighty patriarch of the forest, for it is only by eternal vigilance that a denizen of the jungle survives the constant threat of the greatest of all killers—man.

Tarzan seldom thought of himself as a man. From infancy he had been raised by beasts among beasts, and he had been almost full grown before he had seen a man.

Subconsciously, he classed them with Numa, the lion, and Sheeta, the panther; with Bolgani, the gorilla, and Histah, the snake, and such other blood enemies as his environment afforded.

Crouching upon the great back of Tantor, ready for any eventuality, Tarzan watched the trail along which the man was approaching. Already Tantor was becoming restless, for he, too, had caught the scent spoor of the man; but Tarzan quieted him with a word; and the huge bull, obedient, stood motionless. Presently the man appeared at a turn in the trail, and Tarzan relaxed. The native discovered the ape-man almost simultaneously, and stopped; then he ran forward and dropped to his knees in front of the Lord of the Jungle.

"Greetings, Big Bwana!" he cried.

"Greetings, Ogabi!" replied the ape-man. "Why is Og-abi here? Why is he not in his own country tending his cattle?"

"Ogabi looks for the Big Bwana." answered the black.

"Why?" demanded Tarzan.

"Ogabi has joined white bwana's safari. Ogabi, askari. White bwana Gregory send Ogabi find Tarzan."

"I don't know any white bwana, Gregory," objected the ape-man. "Why did he send you to find me?"

"White bwana send Ogabi bring Tarzan. Must see Tarzan."

"Where?" asked Tarzan.

"Big village, Loango," explained Ogabi.

Tarzan shook his head. "No," he said; "Tarzan no go."

"Bwana Gregory say Tarzan must," insisted Ogabi. "Some bwana lost; Tarzan find."

"No," repeated the ape-man. "Tarzan does not like big village. It is full of bad smells and sickness and men and other evils. Tarzan no go."

"Bwana d'Arnot say Tarzan come," added Ogabi, as though by second thought.

"D'Arnot in Loango?" demanded the ape-man. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? For bwana d'Arnot, Tarzan come."

And so, with a parting word to Tantor, Tarzan swung off along the trail in the direction of Loango, while Ogabi trotted peacefully at Ms heels.

It was hot in Loango; but that was nothing unusual, as it is always hot in Loango. However, heat in the tropics has its recompenses, one of which is a tall glass filled with shaved ice, rum, sugar, and lime juice. A group on the terrace of a small colonial hotel in Loango was enjoying several recompenses.

Captain Paul d'Arnot of the French navy stretched his long legs comfortably beneath the table and permitted his eyes to enjoy the profile of Helen Gregory as he slowly sipped his drink. Helen's profile was well worth anyone's scrutiny, and not her profile alone. Blonde, nineteen, vivacious, with a carriage and a figure charming in chic sport clothes, she was as cool and inviting as the frosted glass before her.

"Do you think this Tarzan you have sent for can find Brian, Captain d'Arnot?" she asked, turning her face toward him after a brief reverie.

"Your full face is even more beautiful than your profile," thought d'Arnot, "but I like your profile better because I can stare at it without being noticed." Aloud, he said, "There is none knows Africa better than Tarzan, Ma'moiselle; but you must remember that your brother has been missing two years. Perhaps?"

"Yes, Captain," interrupted the third member of the party, "I realize that my son may be dead; but we shan't give up hope until we know."

"Brian is not dead, Papa," insisted Helen. "I know it. Everyone else was accounted for. Four of the expedition were killed—the rest got out. Brian simply disappeared—vanished. The others brought back stories—weird, almost unbelievable stories. Anything might have happened to Brian, but he is not dead!"

"This delay is most disheartening," said Gregory. "Og-abi has been gone a week, and no Tarzan yet. He may never find him. I really think I should plan on getting started immediately. I have a good man in Wolff. He knows his Africa like a book."

"Perhaps you are right," agreed d'Arnot. "I do not wish to influence you in any way against your better judgment. If it were possible to find Tarzan, and he would accompany you, you would be much better off; but of course there is no assurance that Tarzan would agree to go with you even were Ogabi to find him."

"Oh, I think there would be no doubt on that score," replied Gregory; "I should pay him handsomely."

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D'Arnot lifted a deprecating palm. "Non! Non! mon ami!" he exclaimed. "Never, never think of offering money to Tarzan. He would give you one look from those gray eyes of his—a look that would make you feel like an insect—and then he would fade away into the jungle, and you would never see him again. He is not as other men, Monsieur Gregory."

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"Well, what can I offer him? Why should he go otherwise than for recompense?"

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"For me, perhaps," said d'Arnot; "for a whim—who knows? If he chanced to take a liking for you; if he sensed adventure—oh, there are many reasons why Tarzan might take you through his forests and his jungles; but none of them is money."

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At another table, at the far end of the terrace, a dark girl leaned toward her companion, a tall, thin East Indian with a short, black chin beard. "In some way one of us must get acquainted with the Gregorys, Lal Taask," she said. "Atan Thome expects us to do something besides sit on the terrace and consume Planter's Punches."

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"It should be easy, Magra, for you to strike up an acquaintance with the girl," suggested Lal Taask. Suddenly his eyes went wide as he looked out across the compound toward the entrance to the hotel grounds. "Siva!" he exclaimed. "See who comes!"

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The girl gasped in astonishment. "It cannot be!" she exclaimed. "And yet it is. What luck! What wonderful luck!" Her eyes shone with something more than the light of excitement.

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The Gregory party, immersed in conversation, were oblivious to the approach of Tarzan and Ogabi until the latter stood beside their table. Then d'Arnot looked up and leaped to his feet. "Greetings, mon ami!" he cried.

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As Helen Gregory looked up into the ape-man's face, her eyes went wide in astonishment and incredulity. Gregory looked stunned.

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"You sent for me, Paul?" asked Tarzan.

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"Yes, but first let me introduce—why, Miss Gregory! What is wrong?"

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"It is Brian," said the girl in a tense whisper, "and yet it is not Brian."

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"No," d'Arnot assured her, "it is not your brother. This is Tarzan of the Apes."

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"A most remarkable resemblance," said Gregory, as he rose and offered his hand to the ape-man.

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"Lal Taask," said Magra, "it is he. That is Brian Gregory."

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"You are right," agreed Lal Taask. "After all these months that we have been planning, he walks right into our arms. We must get him to Atan Thome at once—but how?"

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"Leave it to me," said the girl. "I have a plan. Fortunately, he has not seen us yet. He would never come if he had, for he has no reason to trust us. Come! We'll go inside; then call a boy, and I'll send him a note."

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As Tarzan, d'Arnot, and the Gregorys conversed, a boy approached and handed a note to the ape-man. The latter glanced through it. "There must be some mistake," he said; "this must be meant for someone else."

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"No, bwana," said the boy. "She say give it big bwana in loin cloth. No other bwana in loin cloth."

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"Says she wants to see me in little salon next to the entrance," said Tarzan to d'Arnot. "Says it's very urgent. It's signed, 'An old friend'; but of course it must be a mistake. I'll go and explain."

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"Be careful, Tarzan," laughed d'Arnot; "you're used only to the wilds of Africa, not to the wiles of women."

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"Which are supposed to be far more dangerous," said Helen, smiling.

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A slow smile lighted the face of the Lord of the Jungle as he looked down into the beautiful eyes of the girl. "That is easy to believe," he said. "I think I should warn d'Arnot."

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"Oh, what Frenchman needs schooling in the ways of women?" demanded Helen. "It is the women who should be protected."

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"He is very nice," she said to d'Arnot, after Tarzan had left; "but I think that one might be always a little afraid of him. There is something quite grim about him, even when he smiles."

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"Which is not often," said d'Arnot, "and I have never heard him laugh. But no one who is honorable need ever be afraid of Tarzan."

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As Tarzan entered the small salon he saw a tall, svelte brunette standing by a table at one side of the room. What he did not see was the eye of Lal Taask at the crack of a door in the opposite wall.

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"A boy brought me this note," said Tarzan. "There is some mistake. I don't know you, and you don't know me."

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"There is no mistake, Brian Gregory," said Magra. "You cannot fool such an old friend as I."

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Unsmiling, the ape-man's steady gaze took the girl in from head to foot; then he turned to leave the room. Another might have paused to discuss the matter, for Magra was beautiful; but not Tarzan—he had said all that there was to say, as far as he was concerned.

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"Wait, Brian Gregory!" snapped Magra. "You are too impetuous. You are not going now."

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Tarzan turned back, sensing a threat in her tone. "And why not?" he asked.

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"Because it would be dangerous. Lal Taask is directly behind you. His pistol is almost touching your back. You are coming upstairs with me like an old friend, arm in arm; and Lal Taask will be at your back. A false move, and—poof! you are dead."

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Tarzan shrugged. "Why not?" he thought. In some way these two were concerning themselves with the affairs of the Gregorys, and the Gregorys were d'Arnot's friends. Immediately the ape-man's sympathies were enlisted upon the side of the Gregorys. He took Magra's arm. "Where are we going?" he asked.

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"To see another old friend, Brian Gregory," smiled Magra.

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They had to cross the terrace to reach the stairway leading to the second floor of another wing of the hotel, Magra smiling and chatting gaily, Lal Taask walking close behind; but now his pistol was in his pocket. D'Arnot looked up at them in surprise as they passed.

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"Ah, so it was an old friend," remarked Helen.

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D'Arnot shook Ms head. "I do not like the looks of it," he said.

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"You have changed, Brian Gregory," said Magra, smiling up at him, as they ascended the stairway. "And I think I like you better."

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"What is this all about?" demanded Tarzan.

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"Your memory shall soon be refreshed, my friend," replied the girl. "Down this hall is a door, behind the door is a man."

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At the door they halted, and Magra knocked.

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"Who is it?" inquired a voice from the interior of the room.

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"It is I, Magra, with Lal Taask and a friend," replied the girl.

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The voice bade them enter, and as the door swung open, Tarzan saw a plump, greasy, suave appearing Eurasian sitting at a table at one side of an ordinary hotel room. The man's eyes were mere slits, his lips thin. Tar-zan's eyes took in the entire room with a single glance. There was a window at the opposite end; at the left, across the room from the man, was a dresser; beside it a closed door, which probably opened into an adjoining room to form a suite.

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"I have found him at last, Atan Thome," said Magra.

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"Ah, Brian Gregory!" exclaimed Thome. "I am glad to see you again—shall I say 'my friend'?"

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"I am not Brian Gregory," said Tarzan, "and of course you know it. Tell me what you want."

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"You are Brian Gregory, and I can understand that you would wish to deny it to me," sneered Thome; "and, being Brian Gregory, you know what I want. I want directions to the city of Ashair—the Forbidden City. You wrote those directions down; you made a map; I saw you. It is worth ten thousand pounds to me—that is my offer."

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"I have no map. I never heard of Ashair," replied Tarzan.

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Atan Thome's face registered an almost maniacal rage as he spoke rapidly to Lal Taask in a tongue that neither Tarzan nor Magra understood. The East Indian, standing behind Tarzan, whipped a long knife from beneath his coat.

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"Not that, Atan Thome!" cried Magra.

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"Why not?" demanded the man. "The gun would make too much noise. Lal Taask's knife will do the work quietly. If Gregory will not help us, he must not live to hinder us. Strike, Lal Taask!"

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Chapter 2

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"I CANNOT UNDERSTAND," said d'Arnot, "why Tarzan went with those two. It is not like him. If ever a man were wary of strangers, it is he."

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"Perhaps they were not strangers," suggested Helen. "He seemed on the best of terms with the woman. Didn't you notice how gay and friendly she appeared?"

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"Yes," replied d'Arnot, "I did; but I also noticed Tarzan. Something strange is going on. I do not like it."

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Even as d'Arnot was speaking, Tarzan, swift as Ara, the lightning, wheeled upon Lal Taask before the knife hand struck; and, seizing the man, lifted him above his head, while Atan Thome and Magra shrank back against the wall in stark amazement. They gasped in horror, as Tarzan hurled Lal Taask heavily to the floor.

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Tarzan fixed his level gaze upon Atan Thome. "You are next," he said.

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"Wait, Brian Gregory," begged Thome, backing away from the ape-man and dragging Magra with him. "Let us reason."

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"I do not reason with murderers," replied Tarzan. "I kill."

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"I only wish to frighten you, not to kill you," explained Atan Thome, as he continued to edge his way along the wall around the room, holding tightly to Mag-ra's hand.

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"Why?" demanded Tarzan.

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"Because you have something I want—a route map to Ashair," replied Thome.

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"I have no map," said Tarzan, "and once again I tell you that I never heard of Ashair. What is at Ashair that you want?"

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"Why quibble, Brian Gregory?" snapped Atan Thome. "You know as well as I do that what we both want in Ashair is The Father of Diamonds. Will you work with me, or shall you continue to lie?"

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Tarzan shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

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"All right, you fool," growled Thome. "If you won't work with me, you'll not live to work against me." He whipped a pistol from a shoulder holster and levelled it at the ape-man. "Take this!"

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"You shan't!" cried Magra, striking the weapon up as Thome pressed the trigger; "you shall not kill Brian Gregory!"

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Tarzan could not conceive what impelled this strange woman to intercede in his behalf, nor could Atan Thome, as he cursed her bitterly and dragged her through the doorway into the adjoining room before Tarzan could prevent him.

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At the sound of the shot, d'Arnot, on the terrace below, leaped to his feet. "I knew it," he cried. "I knew there was something wrong."

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Gregory and Helen rose to follow him. "Stay here, Helen," Gregory commanded; "we don't know what's going on up there.'"

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"Don't be silly, Dad," replied the girl; "I'm coming with you."

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Long experience had taught Gregory that the easiest way to control his daughter was to let her have her own way, inasmuch as she would have it anyway.

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D'Arnot was in the upper hall calling Tarzan's name aloud by the time the Gregorys caught up with him, "I can't tell which room," he said.

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"We'll have to try them all," suggested Helen.

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Again d'Arnot called out to Tarzan, and this tune the ape-man replied. A moment later the three stepped into the room from which his voice had come to see him trying to open a door in the left hand wall.

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"What happened?" demanded d'Arnot, excitedly.

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"A fellow tried to shoot me," explained Tarzan. "The woman who sent me the note struck up his gun; then he dragged her into that room and locked the door."

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"What are you going to do?" asked Gregory.

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"I am going to break down the door and go in after him," replied the ape-man.

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"Isn't that rather dangerous?" asked Gregory. "You say the fellow is armed."

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For answer Tarzan hurled his weight against the door and sent it crashing into the next room. The ape-man leaped across the threshold. The room was vacant. "They've gone," he said.

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"Stairs lead from that verandah to the service court in the rear of the hotel," said d'Arnot. "If we hurry, we might overtake them."

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"No," said Tarzan; "let them go. We have Lal Taask. We can learn about the others from him." They turned back to re-enter the room they had just quitted. "We'll question him, and he'll answer." There was a grimness about his tone that, for some reason, made Helen think of a lion.

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"If you didn't kill him," qualified d'Arnot.

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"Evidently I didn't," replied the ape-man; "he's gone!"

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"How terribly mysterious!" exclaimed Helen Gregory.

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The four returned to their table on the terrace, all but Tarzan a little nervous and excited. Helen Gregory was thrilled. Here were mystery and adventure. She had hoped to find them in Africa, but not quite so far from the interior. Romance was there, too, at her elbow, sipping a cool drink; but she did not know it. Over the rim of his glass d'Arnot inspected her profile for the thousandth time.

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"What did the woman look like?" Helen asked Tarzan.

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"Taller than you, very black hair, slender, quite handsome," replied the ape-man.

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Helen nodded. "She was sitting at that table at the end of the terrace before you came," she said. "A very foreign looking man was with her."

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"That must have been Lal Taask," said Tarzan.

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"She was a very striking looking girl," continued Helen. "Why in the world do you suppose she lured you to that room and then ended up by saving your life?"

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Tarzan shrugged. "I know why she lured me to the room, but I don't understand why she struck up Atan Thome's hand to save me."

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"What did they want of you?" asked d'Arnot.

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"They think I am Brian Gregory, and they want a map of the route to Ashair—The Forbidden City. According to them The Father of Diamonds is there. They say your brother made such a map. Do you know anything about it? Is this safari of yours just for the purpose of finding The Father of Diamonds?" His last query was addressed to Gregory.

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"I know nothing about any Father of Diamonds," replied Gregory. "My only interest is in finding my son."

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"And you have no map?"

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"Yes," said Helen, "we have a very rough map that Brian drew and enclosed in the last letter we received from him. He never suspected that we'd have any use for it, and it was more by way of giving us an idea of where he was than anything else. It may not even be accurate, and it is certainly most sketchy. I kept it, however; and I still have it in my room."

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"When the boy brought you the note," said d'Arnot, "you had just asked me why I had sent for you."

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"Yes," said Tarzan.

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"I was here in Loango on a special mission and met Monsieur and Ma'moiselle Gregory," explained d'Arnot. "I became very much interested in their problem; and when they asked me if I knew of any one who might help them find Ashair, I thought immediately of you. I do not mean that I should venture to ask you to accompany them, but I know of no one in Africa better fitted to recommend a suitable man to take charge of their safari."

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That half smile that d'Arnot knew so well, and which was more of the eyes than of the lips, lighted Tarzan's face momentarily. "I understand, Paul," he said. "I will take charge of their safari."

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"But that is such an imposition," exclaimed Helen. "We could never ask you to do that."

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"I think it will be interesting," said Tarzan—"since I have met Magra and Lal Taask and Atan Thome. I should like to meet them again. I think if I remain with you our paths shall cross."

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"I have no doubt of it," said Gregory.

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"Have you made any preparations?" asked Tarzan.

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"Our safari is being gathered in Bonga," replied Gregory; "and I had tentatively employed a white hunter named Wolff to take charge of it, but of course now—"

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"If he will come along as a hunter, we can use him," said Tarzan.

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"He is coming to the hotel in the morning. We can talk with him then. I know nothing about him, other than that he had some rather good references."

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Behind Wong Feng's shop is a heavily curtained room. A red lacquer Buddha rests in a little shrine. There are some excellent bronzes, a couple of priceless screens, a few good vases; the rest is a hodge podge of papier-mache, cheap cloisonne, and soapstone. The furniture is of teak, falling apart after the manner of Chinese furniture. Heavy hangings cover the only window, and the air is thick with incense—sticky, cloying. Atan Thome is there and Magra. The man is coldly, quietly furious.

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"Why did you do it?" he demanded. "Why did you strike up my gun?"

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"Because," commenced Magra; then she stopped.

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"'Because!' 'Because!'" he mimicked. "The eternal feminine. But you know what I do to traitors!" He wheeled on her suddenly. "Do you love Gregory?"

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"Perhaps," she replied, "but that is my own affair. What concerns us now is getting to Ashair and getting The Father of Diamonds. The Gregorys are going there. That means they haven't the diamond, and that they do have a map. You know that Brian made a map. You saw him. We must get it, and I have a plan. Listen!" She came and leaned close to Thome and whispered rapidly.

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The man listened intently, his face lighting with approval. "Splendid, my dear," he exclaimed. "Lal Taask shall do it tomorrow, if he has recovered sufficiently. Wong Feng's working on him now. But if that fails, we still have Wolff."

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"If he lands the job," said Magra. "Let's have a look at Lal Taask."

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They stepped into a small bedroom adjoining the room in which they had been talking. A Chinese was brewing something in a kettle over an oil lamp. Lal Taask lay on a narrow cot. He looked up as the two entered.

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"How are you feeling?" asked Atan Thome.

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"Better, Master," replied the man.

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"Him all light mollow," assured Wong Feng.

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"How in the world did you escape?" asked Magra.

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"I just pretended to be unconscious," replied Lal Taask, "and when they went into the next room, I crawled into a closet and hid. After dark I managed to get down into the back court and come here. I thought I was going to die though. I can almost believe that man when he says he's not Brian Gregory, unless he's developed an awful lot of strength since we saw him last."

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"He's Brian Gregory all right," said Thome.

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Wong poured a cupful of the concoction he had brewed and handed it to Lal Taask. "Dlink!" he said.

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Lal Taask took a sip, made a wry face, and spat it out. "I can't drink that nasty stuff," he said. "What's in it?—dead cats?"

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"Only li'l bit dead cat," said Wong. "You dlink!"

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"No," said Lal Taask; "I'd just as soon die."

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"Drink it," said Atan Thome.

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Like a whipped cur, Lal Taask raised the cup to his lips and, gagging and choking, drained it.

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Chapter 3

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THE GREGORYS, with Tarzan and d'Arnot, were breakfasting on the terrace the next morning, when Wolff arrived. Gregory introduced him to Tarzan. "One o' them wildmen," observed Wolff, noting Tarzan's loin cloth and primitive weapons. "I seen another one once, but he ran around on all fours and barked like a dog. You taking it with us, Mr. Gregory?"

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"Tarzan will be in full charge of the safari," said Gregory.

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"What?" exclaimed Wolff. "That's my job."

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"It was," said Tarzan. "If you want to come along as a hunter, there's a job open for you."

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Wolff thought for a moment. "I'll come," he said. "Mr. Gregory's goin' to need me plenty."

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"We're leaving for Bonga on the boat tomorrow," said Tarzan. "Be there. Until then we shan't need you."

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Wolff walked off grumbling to himself.

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"I'm afraid you've made an enemy of him," said Gregory.

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Tarzan shrugged. "I did nothing to him," he said, "but give him a job. He'll bear watching, though."

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"I do not care for that fellow's looks," said d'Arnot.

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"He has good recommendations," insisted Gregory.

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"But he is, obviously, no gentleman," said Helen.

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Her father laughed good naturedly. "But we are hiring a hunter," he said. "Whom did you expect me to sign on, the Duke of Windsor?"

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"I could have stood it," laughed Helen.

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"Wolff has only to obey orders and shoot straight," said Tarzan.

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"He's coming back," announced d'Arnot, and the others looked up to see Wolff approaching.

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"I got to thinking," he said to Gregory, "that I ought to know just where we're goin'; so I could help lay out the route. You see, we gotta be careful we don't get out o' good game country. You got a map?"

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"Yes," replied Gregory. "Helen, you had it. Where is it?"

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"In the top drawer of my dresser."

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"Come on up, Wolff; and we'll have a look at it," said Gregory.

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Gregory went directly to his daughter's room; and Wolff accompanied him, while the others remained on the terrace, chatting. The older man searched through the upper drawer of Helen's dresser for a moment, running through several papers, from among which he finally selected one.

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"Here it is," he said, and spread it on a table before Wolff.

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The hunter studied it for several minutes; then he shook his head. "I know the country part way," he said, "but I ain't never heard of none of these places up here—Tuen-Baka, Ashair." He pointed them out with a stubby forefinger. "Lemme take the map," he said, "and study it. I'll bring it back tomorrow."

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Gregory shook his head. "You'll have plenty of time to study it with Tarzan and the rest of us on the boat to Bonga," he said; "and it's too precious—it means too much to me—to let out of my hands. Something might happen to it." He walked back to the dresser and replaced the map in the upper drawer.

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"O.K.," said Wolff. "It don't make no difference, I guess. I just wanted to help all I could."

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"Thanks," said Gregory; "I appreciate it."

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"Well then," said Wolff, "I'll be running along. See you at the boat tomorrow."

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Captain Paul d'Arnot, being of an inventive turn of mind, discovered various reasons why he should remain in the vicinity of Helen Gregory the remainder of the morning. Luncheon was easy—he simply invited the Gregorys and Tarzan to be his guests; but when the meal was over, he lost her.

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"If we're leaving for Bonga tomorrow," she said, "I'm going to do some shopping right now."

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"Not alone?" asked d'Arnot.

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"Alone," she replied, smiling.

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"Do you think it quite safe? a white woman alone," he asked. "I'll be more than glad to go with you."

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Helen laughed. "No man around while I'm shopping—unless he wants to pay the bills. Goodby!"

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Loango's bazaar lay along a narrow, winding street, crowded with Negroes, Chinese, East Indians, and thick with dust. It was an unsavory place of many odors—all strange to occidental nostrils and generally unpleasant. There were many jutting corners and dark doorways; and as Helen indulged the feminine predilection for shopping for something to shop for, Lal Taask, slithering from corner to doorway, followed relentlessly upon her trail.

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As she neared the shop of Wong Feng, she stopped before another stall to examine some trinkets that had attracted her eye; and while she was thus engaged, Lai Taask slipped past behind her and entered the shop of Wong Feng.

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Helen dawdled a few moments before the stall; and then, unconscious of impending danger, approached the shop of Wong Feng; while, from the interior, Lal Taask watched her as a cat might watch a mouse. The girl was entirely off her guard, her mind occupied with thoughts of her shopping and anticipation of the adventurous expedition in search of her missing brother; so that she was stunned into momentary inaction and helplessness as Lal Taask seized her as she was passing the shop of Wong Feng and dragged her through the doorway into the dark interior—but only for a moment. When she realized her danger, she struggled and struck at her assailant. She tried to scream for help; but the man clapped a palm roughly over her mouth, stifling her cries, even though they would have brought no help in this vicious neighborhood.

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Lal Taask was a why, powerful man; and Helen soon realized the futility of struggling against him, as he dragged her toward the rear of the shop.

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"Come quietly," he said, "and you will not be harmed."

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"What do you want of me?" she asked, as he removed his palm from across her mouth.

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"There is one here who would question you," replied Lal Taask. "It is not for me to explain—the master will do that. Whatever he advises will be for your own good—obey him in all things."

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At the far end of the shop Lal Taask opened a door and ushered Helen into the dimly lighted room that we have seen before. Magra was standing at one side; and Helen recognized her as the woman who had lured Tar-zan to the hotel room where, but for her, he would have been killed. The plump Eurasian sitting at the desk and facing her, she had never before seen; and now, for the first time, she saw the face of the man who had seized her, and recognized him as the hotel companion of the woman.

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"You are Helen Gregory?" asked the man at the desk.

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"Yes. Who are you, and what do you want of me?"

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"In the first place," said Atan Thome suavely, "let me assure you that I deeply regret the necessity for this seeming discourtesy. Your brother has something that I want. He would not listen to reason; so there was no other alternative than force."

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"My brother? You have not talked with him. He is lost somewhere in the interior."

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"Don't lie to me," snapped Thome. "I know your brother well. I was with him on the first expedition. He reached Ashair and made a map of the vicinity, but he would not let me have a copy. He wanted The Father of Diamonds all for himself. It is the route map to Ashair that I want, and I shall hold you until I get it."

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Helen laughed in his face. "Your intrigue and melodrama have been quite unnecessary," she said. "All that you would have had to do would have been to ask my father for the map. He would have let you make a copy of it. If this man will come back to the hotel with me, he can copy the map now." She indicated Lal Taask with a nod.

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Atan Thome sneered. "You think you can trap me as easily as that?" he demanded.

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Helen made a gesture of resignation. "Go on with your play acting if you must," she said, "but it will only waste time and get everyone in trouble. What do you wish me to do?"

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"I wish you to write and sign the note I shall dictate to your father," replied Thome. "If that doesn't bring the map, he'll never see you again. I'm leaving for the interior immediately, and I shall take you with me. There are sultans there who will pay a good price for you."

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"You must be quite insane to think that you can frighten me with any such wild threats. Those things are not done today, you know, outside of story books. Hurry up and dictate your note; and I'll promise you'll have the map back as quickly as your messenger can bring it, but what assurance have I that you'll keep your end of the bargain and release me?"

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"You have only my word," replied Atan Thome, "but I can assure you that I have no wish to harm you. The map is all I wish. Come and sit here while I dictate."

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As the sun sank into the west behind tall trees and the shadows lengthened to impart to Loango the semblance of a softened beauty the which the squalid little village did not possess in its own right, the three men discussing the details of the forthcoming safari became suddenly aware of the lateness of the hour.

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"I wonder what can be keeping Helen," said Gregory; "it's almost dark. I don't like to have her out so late in a place like this. She should have been back long ago."

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"She should never have gone alone," said d'Arnot. "It is not safe here for a woman."

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"It is not," agreed Tarzan. "It is never safe where there is civilization."

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"I think we should go and look for her," suggested d'Arnot.

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"Yes," said Tarzan, "you and I. Mr. Gregory should remain here in case she returns."

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"Don't worry, Monsieur Gregory," said d'Arnot, as he and Tarzan left the room; "I'm sure we'll find her safe and sound in some curio shop," but his words were only to reassure Gregory. In his heart was only fear.

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As he waited, Gregory tried to convince himself that there was nothing to worry about. He tried to read, but could not fix his mind upon the book. After he had reread one sentence half a dozen times without grasping its sense, he gave up; then he commenced to pace the floor, smoking one cigar after another. He was on the point of starting out himself to search when d'Arnot returned. Gregory looked at him eagerly.

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D'Arnot shook his head. "No luck," he said. "I found a number of shop keepers who recalled seeing her, but none who knew when she left the bazaar."

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"Where is Tarzan?" asked Gregory.

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"He is investigating in the village. If the natives have any knowledge of her, Tarzan will get it out of them. He speaks their language in every sense of the term."

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"Here he is now," said Gregory as the ape-man entered the room.

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Both men looked up at him questioningly. "You didn't find any trace of her?" asked d'Arnot.

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Tarzan shook his head. "None. In the jungle, I could have found her; but here—here, in civilization, a man cannot even find himself."

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As he ceased speaking, a window pane crashed behind them; and a missile fell to the floor.

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"Mon dieu!" cried d'Arnot. "What is that?"

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"Look out!" cried Gregory. "It may be a bomb."

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"No," said Tarzan, "it is just a note tied to a stone. Here, let's have a look at it."

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"It must be about Helen," said Gregory, taking the note from Tarzan's hand. "Yes, it is. It's from her. Listen! 'Dear Dad: The people who are holding me want Brian's road map to Ashair. They threaten to take me into the interior and sell me if they don't get it. I believe they mean it. Tie the map to stone and throw it out window. Do not follow their messenger, or they will kill me. They promise to return me unharmed as soon as they get the map.' Yes, it's from Helen all right, it's her handwriting. But the fools! They could have had the map for the asking. I only want to find Brian. I'll get the map."

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He rose and went into Helen's room, which adjoined his. They heard him strike a match to light a lamp, and then give vent to an exclamation of astonishment that brought the other two men into the room. Gregory was standing before the open upper drawer of the dresser, his face white.

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"It's gone," he said. "Some one has stolen the map!"

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Chapter 4

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IN A SQUALID room, Wolff sat at a table laboriously wielding a pencil by the light of a kerosene lamp—evidently an unaccustomed task. Every time he made a mark, he wet the tip of the pencil on his tongue, which, in the interims, he chewed. At last his work was completed; and as he eyed it, not without pride, he heaved a sigh and rose.

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"I guess this ain't a pretty night's work or anything!" he soliloquized complacently. "Now they'll both pay-and how!"

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Atan Thome sat alone in the back room of Wong Feng's shop. If he were nervous, the only outward indication of it was the innumerable cigarettes that he smoked. Magra was guarding Helen in the little bedroom adjoining. All three were waiting for the return of Lal Taask with the route map to Ashair. Helen, alone, was positive that it would be forthcoming. The others only hoped.

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"Will he let me go when the map comes?" asked Helen.

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"He may have to keep you until he can get safely away," replied Magra, "but I'm sure he will let you go then."

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"Poor Dad," said the girl. "He'll be worrying terribly. If there's going to be any delay about my release, I'd like to write him another note."

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"I'll try and arrange it," said Magra. "I'm very sorry about all this, Miss Gregory," she added after a short silence. "I am really quite as helpless in the matter as you, for reasons which I may not explain; but I may tell you that Atan Thome is obsessed by this desire to possess The Father of Diamonds. At heart he is not a bad man, but I know that he will stop at nothing to realize this one desire; so I hope your father sends the map."

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"You really think that he would sell me in the interior if he didn't get it?" demanded the American girl.

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"Absolutely," replied Magra. "If he were pressed, he might kill you."

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Helen shuddered. "I am glad that he is going to get the map," she said.

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Lal Taask opened the door to the back room of Wong Feng's shop, and entered. Atan Thome looked up. "Well?" he inquired.

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"They threw it out all right," said Taask; "here it is." He handed the paper to Thome. It was still wrapped around the stone. Thome opened it and read. His face turned dark.

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"Is it the map?" asked Lal Taask.

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"No," growled Thome. "They say the map has been stolen. They lie! They can't fool Atan Thome, though. They'll never see the girl again, and I'll find Ashair without their map. Listen! There is someone at the door. See who it is."

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Lal Taask opened the door a crack and looked out. "It is Wolff," he said.

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"Bring him in."

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"Nice evening," said Wolff, as he entered the room.

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"You didn't come here to tell me that," said Thome. "What is it?"

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"What would you give for the route map to Ashair?" asked Wolff.

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"Five hundred pounds," replied Thome.

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"Not enough. Make it a thousand and a half interest in the diamond, and I'll get the map for you."

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"How?"

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"I already have it. I stole it from the girl's room."

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"Have you got it here?" inquired Thome.

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"Yes," replied Wolff, "but don't try any funny business. I left a note with the old woman I'm stopping with. If I'm not back in an hour, she'll take it to the police."

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"Let's see the map," said Thome.

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Wolff took it from his pocket and held it up in front of the other man, but not near enough for him to snatch it. "Fork over the money, and the map's yours," he said.

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Atan Thome drew a thick wallet from an inner pocket and counted out five hundred pounds in Bank of England notes.

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"If I had that roll of yours I wouldn't be riskin' my neck lookin' for no Father of Diamonds," said Wolff, as he took the notes and stuffed them in his pocket.

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"Are you still going along with the Gregory safari?" asked Thome.

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"Sure," replied Wolff; "a poor man's got to work; but I'm goin' to be right with you when you get that diamond. I'm goin' to have my half."

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"You can do something more to help me," said Thome, "that will also make the diamond safer for us."

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"What's that?" asked Wolff, suspiciously.

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"I'm going to have Magra try to go along with the Gregorys. You may be able to help in that. I want her to make friends with them—and make love to Brian Gregory; then if anything goes wrong she'll have some influence with them. I don't want to hang, and neither do you."

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"Where do I come in?" asked Wolff.

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"You go along and lead them off onto a wrong trail. When they're good and lost, bring Magra up toward Ashair. You've seen the map; so you'll know about where to go. You'll find one of my old camps and wait there for me. Do you understand?"

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"Yes."

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"And you'll do it?"

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"Sure. Why not?"

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"All right. Now go along. I'll be seeing you up around Ashair in a couple of months."

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After Wolff had left, Thome turned to Lal Taask. "We've got to get out of here tonight," he said. "Go down to the river and bribe the captain of that boat to get up steam and leave for Bonga tonight."

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"You are very clever, Master," said Lal Taask. "You will let the young lady go, now that you have the map?"

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"No. They didn't give me the map. They may catch up with us; and if they do, it will be just as well to have a hostage."

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"Again, Master—you are clever."

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It was past midnight when Atan Thome went aboard the river steamer with Lal Taask and Helen. At the gangplank he bid Magra goodby. "Join the Gregory safari by any ruse," he directed. "They may reach Ashair, and I want some one with them I can trust. I must be prepared for any eventuality. If they should beat me to it and get the diamond, you must find some way to communicate with me. You may even get an opportunity to steal the diamond. Watch Wolff. I don't trust him. He has agreed to lead them astray and then bring you up toward Ashair to meet me when I come out. It's a good thing you're in love with Brian Gregory. That will help. Work it for all its worth. I didn't like the idea at first; but when I got to thinking about it, I saw where we could make use of it. Now, goodby; and remember all I have told you."

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Taask and Helen had boarded the steamer, the man walking very close to the girl, his pistol pressed against her side, lest she make an outcry.

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"I think you are very foolish not to set her free," said Magra.

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"I can't now," replied Thome—"not until after you have left the Gregory party. Can't you see?"

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"Well, see that no harm comes to her—remember the arm of English law is long." Then Magra turned and walked back into the village.

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After a sleepless night of searching for Helen, Gregory, Tarzan, and d'Arnot were gathered in Gregory's room to formulate their plans.

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"I'm afraid there's nothing left to do but notify the authorities," said d'Arnot.

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"I suppose you're right," agreed Gregory. "I was so afraid they'd kill her if we notified the police, but now there seems to be nothing else to do."

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There was a knock at the door, and the three men looked up. "Come in!" said Gregory.

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The door swung slowly open, and Magra stepped into the room.

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"You!" exclaimed d'Arnot.

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She paid no attention to him, but looked straight at Tarzan. "Brian Gregory," she said, "I have come to help you find your sister."

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"What do you know about her? Where is she?" demanded Gregory.

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"Atan Thome is taking her into the interior. He left for Bonga on the river boat last night."

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"But the boat doesn't sail until today," interrupted d'Arnot.

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"Atan Thome bribed the captain to sail last night," Magra explained. "I was to have gone, but—well, why I didn't is immaterial."

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"This woman is not to be trusted," said Tarzan.

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"You can trust me—always, Brian Gregory." She turned to Gregory. "If you doubt me, keep me with you—as a hostage, perhaps. It is possible that I may be able to help you."

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Gregory appeared not to hear her. He seemed stunned. "Both my children," be said. "First Brian, now Helen, sacrificed—and for what?"

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"Do not despair, Monsieur Gregory," said d'Arnot. "There must be a way."

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"But how?" demanded the older man. "In four days Thome will be in Bonga. The boat will lie there at least one day. Coming back with the current, she will make the return trip in two and a half days, perhaps. Even if we can persuade the captain to return to Bonga immediately Thome will have had six or seven days start of us. He will be far into the interior. He probably has the map that was stolen from Helen's room. We have none. We will not know where to look for him."

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"Do not worry on that score," urged d'Arnot. "If Thome is in Africa, Tarzan of the Apes will find him."

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"Yes," agreed Gregory, dully, "but what will have happened to my poor girl in the mean time?"

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"Wait!" exclaimed d'Arnot. "I have it! There is yet a way. We have a naval seaplane here. I'm sure the authorities will fly us to Bonga. We shall be there when Monseiur Thome lands. What a surprise for Monsieur Thome, eh?"

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"Wonderful!" cried Gregory. "How can I ever thank you, Captain?"

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Whatever her reaction, Magra's face showed no emotion.

دنیای رمان مرجع رمان های ایرانی و خارجی. https://novelonline.ir

Chapter 5

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AT D'ARNOT'S REQUEST, the authorities were glad to co-operate; and with a delay of only a couple of hours the party was boarding a seaplane anchored in the river. Magra's expression suggested utmost self-satisfaction, as d'Arnot helped her aboard from the native canoe that had brought the party from shore. Wolff, who had never flown, swaggered a bit to hide Ms inward perturbation. Ogabi's eyes rolled fearfully.

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"You see how easily everything was arranged?" exclaimed d'Arnot.

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"Thanks to you," replied Gregory.

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"How long will it take you to fly to Bonga, Lieutenant?" Tarzan asked the pilot.

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"Between two and three hours," replied Lavac.

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"It will take the steamer four days, against the current," said d'Arnot. "Atan Thome will find a reception committee waiting at the dock."

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As the plane raced up the river into the wind for the take-off, Ogabi closed his eyes and clutched the seat with both hands. When he opened his eyes again, he looked down upon the top of a forest. His face was no longer dark—it was a sickly ashen color.

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"This is no place for man, Bwana, in belly of bird," he said to Tarzan.

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"But you are a man, Ogabi," replied the ape-man; "therefore you are not afraid. Remember that when the storm strikes us."

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"What storm?" asked Gregory.

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"A storm is coming," replied Tarzan.

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"How do you know?" demanded Gregory. "There is not a cloud in the sky."

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"Tarzan always knows," said d'Arnot.

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How Tarzan had known that a storm was approach-nig, not even he could have explained. Perhaps he shared with the wild things, by which and among which he had been raised, a peculiar sensitivity beyond the appreciation of men. However that may be, a half hour after he had foretold it, the ship raced into the heart of a tropical storm.

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Lavac, who was accustomed to sudden tropical storms, assumed that it covered but a small area and would soon be astern of them. An experienced flier, with a ship equipped with all the instruments necessary for blind flying, he merely increased his elevation and flew into it. The ship rolled and tossed, and Ogabi became a few shades lighter. Wolff clenched Ms fists until Ms knuckles were white.

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After an hour of it, Lavac turned and motioned d'Arnot to come forward. "It's worse than I'd anticipated, Captain," he said. "Had I better turn back?"

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"Got plenty of petrol?" asked d'Arnot.

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Lavac nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied.

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"Everything else all right?"

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"I'm not so sure about the compass."

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"Then we wouldn't be any better off flying back than going on," said d'Arnot. "Let's keep on. We're bound to be out of it sooner or later."

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For two long hours more Lavac bucked the storm; then the engine spluttered. D'Arnot went forward hurriedly; but before he reached Lavac's side, the engine caught itself again and was purring sweetly. It had been a tense moment for these two. D'Arnot breathed a deep sigh of relief—and then the engine spluttered again and stopped. Lavac worked furiously with a hand pump. D'Arnot turned back toward the cabin.

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"Fasten your life belts," he said. "We may have to come down."

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"The line's clogged," said Lavac, "and I can't clear it."

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D'Arnot glanced at the altimeter. "You've got about three thousand meters," he said. "The average elevation in the vicinity of Bonga is around two hundred. Glide as far as you can, looking for a hole."

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"And if I don't find one?" asked Lavac.

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D'Arnot shrugged and grimaced. "You're the pilot," he said, "and I understand you're a very good one."

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"Thanks," said Lavac. "It will take a very good pilot to fly this ship through a forest. I am not that good. Are you going to tell them?"

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"What's the use?" asked d'Arnot.

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"They might wish to take up some matters with God—matters they have been neglecting to discuss with Hun."

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"What's wrong?" demanded Wolff. "The engine isn't running."

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"You have answered your own question," said d'Arnot, walking back to his seat.

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"We're coming down," said Wolff. "He can't see to land. We'll crash."

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"Be calm," admonished d'Arnot; "we have not crashed yet."

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The passengers sat in tense expectancy as the ship nosed down through storm racked clouds.

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"What altitude now, Lavac?" asked d'Arnot.

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"Three hundred meters."

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"That means we can't be more than three hundred feet from ground at the best," said Gregory. "I remember looking at a map the other day. Nearly all this country back here runs about six hundred feet elevation."

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Suddenly Wolff leaped to his feet. "I can't stand it," he cried. "I'm going to jump!"

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Tarzan seized him and threw him back into his seat. "Sit still," he said.

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"Yes, sit still!" snapped d'Arnot. "Is it not bad enough without that?"

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Lavac voiced an exclamation of relief. "We're out of it!" he cried, "and there's water just below us."

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A moment later the ship glided to an easy landing on the bosom of a little lake. Only the forest and the jungle were there to welcome it. If there were eyes to see, they remained hidden; and the voices of the jungle were momentarily stilled. The rain beat upon the water, and the wind moaned in the forest. Of these things and of their miraculous escape from death Ogabi was unconscious—he had fainted.

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"Do you know where we are, Lieutenant?" asked d'Arnot.

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"I haven't the least idea," replied Lavac, "—never saw this lake before."

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"Then we are lost?" asked Gregory.

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Lavac nodded. "I'm afraid so, sir. My compass wasn't behaving very well; and then, naturally, we must have been blown way off our course."

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"How lonely and depressing it looks," said Magra.

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"It is the jungle," breathed Tarzan, almost as one might say, "It is home!"

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"How discouraging," said Gregory. "Just when it seemed certain that we had overcome every obstacle and found a way to circumvent Thome and rescue Helen, this had to happen. Now we are absolutely helpless. We shall never reach her now, poor child."

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"Non! Non! my dear Monsieur Gregory, you must not give up," said d'Arnot. "This is only a temporary delay. Lieutenant Lavac will have that fuel line cleared in no time, and as soon as the weather lifts we'll take off again. We have plenty of time. Thome will not reach Bonga for three days yet. As soon as the weather clears, the lieutenant can find Bonga even with no compass at all."

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Lavac worked on the fuel line for half an hour; then he called d'Arnot. "The line was not clogged, sir," he said. He looked worried.

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"Then what was the trouble?" demanded d'Arnot.

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"We are out of fuel. The tank must have been leaking badly, as we had a full load when we left."

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"But the reserve tank—what of that?" demanded d'Arnot.

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"It was the reserve tank that leaked, and we have emptied the other."

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D'Arnot shook his head. "That poor little girl!" he said.

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Chapter 6

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OGABI WAS SINGING as he grilled antelope steaks over a fire beside which lay the carcass of the animal. Ogabi's spirits had been rising for four days, for now he was four marches away from that horrible bird thing, in the belly of which he had almost ridden to his death. He had been very fearful that the white men would decide to return to it and fly again. If they had, however, he should have run away into the jungle and hidden. Five white men sat around the fire watching him. "Pretty well convinced you know where we are now, Tarzan?" asked d'Arnot.

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"Yes. I'm quite certain that we are east of Bonga and a little south. That buck I killed ranges in that district."

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"Thome probably left Bonga today," said Gregory.

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"By the time we reach Bonga he'll be many marches ahead of us. We'll never overtake Mm."

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"We don't have to go to Bonga," said Tarzan. "We can strike out directly northeast and cut his trail; then we can follow! on faster than he can travel—boys with packs will slow him down. We're not handicapped by anything like that."

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"You mean we can travel without porters or provisions?" demanded Gregory.

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"We have been for the last four days," Tarzan reminded him. He looked quickly about the camp. "Where's Magra?" he asked. "I told her not to leave camp. This is lion country; and, if I'm right about the location, it's also cannibal country."

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Magra had not meant to go far from the camp; but the forest was intriguing, and it seemed so quiet and peaceful. She walked slowly, enjoying the blooms, watching the birds. She stopped before a lovely orchid, which, like some beautiful woman, sucked the Me blood from the giant that supported it. Presently she recalled Tarzan's injunction, and turned to retrace her steps to camp. She did not see the great lion behind her which had caught her scent and was stalking her on silent, padded feet.

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The men in the camp saw Tarzan rise to his feet, his head up, his nostrils quivering; then, to their amazement, they saw him run a few steps, swing into a tree, and disappear. They did not know that Usha, the wind, had brought the acrid scent spoor of Numa, the lion, to the sensitive nostrils of the ape-man, and that mingled with it was the delicate scent of the perfume that Magra loved, revealing to him an impending tragedy and sending him into the trees in the hope that he would reach the scene in time.

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As Magra walked toward camp, an angry snarl from the king of beasts brought her suddenly about to awareness of the danger that confronted her. Instantly she realized the hopelessness of her situation and the futility of calling for help that could not reach her in time to prevent the inevitable. With her accustomed courage, she resigned herself to death; but even with death staring her in the face, she could scarcely restrain an involuntary exclamation of admiration for the magnificence of the great beast facing her. His size, his majestic bearing, the sheer ferocity of his snarling mien thrilled every fiber of her being. She did not want to die, but she felt that there could be no more noble death than beneath the mighty fangs and talons of the king of beasts.

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Now the lion was creeping toward her, belly to ground, the end of his tail twitching nervously. Just for a yard or so he came thus; then he rose, but still crouching a little as he advanced. Suddenly, with a mighty roar, he charged; and at the same instant a man leaped from a tree above full upon his back.

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"Brian!" she cried, with a gasp of astonishment.

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The man clung to the back of the carnivore, his growls mingling with those of the great cat, as he drove his hunting knife again and again into the tawny side of the leaping, striking beast. Thrilled and horrified, Magra watched, fascinated, until the pierced heart ceased forever, and the great beast died. Then Magra had reason to shudder in real horror, as the Lord of the Jungle placed a foot upon the carcass of his kill and voiced the victory cry of the bull ape. Every fiber of the girl's body vibrated to a new thrill as she watched the man she now knew was not Brian Gregory.

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As the uncanny cry broke the stillness of the jungle, Wolff, Gregory, and Lavac sprang to their feet. Wolff seized his rifle. "My God!" he cried. "What was that?"

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