It was close to three o’clock the following afternoon when Tarzan, his warriors and the tired, frightened Mogambi children arrived within the confines of the compound. Their journey had been uneventful, although from time to time during the day that same awesome silence had fallen over the jungle—to such a degree that even the youngest of the children had noticed it, and known fear without knowing its reason. The Waziri had looked to their leader, Tarzan, for some form of explanation about the uneasiness which seemed to pervade his jungle. He had given them no verbal assurances, but the strong dignity and assurance with which he forged on through the brush and trees had hushed their trepidations—as Tarzan had known it would. He refused to dignify the silence enemy by any show of protection or by any form of discussion. It was as though by ignoring it, Tarzan would chase it from his world. Within himself the ape-man was not this calm and unworriedly it was against his code to show fear.

  Tarzan had led the group surely yet unhurriedly back toward his vast farms. Each time they stopped to allow the young people a rest, the tall man had gone forward a half-mile or so, never leaving his charges too far behind, still with the hope that his mate Jane and his brave chieftain Basuli had come forth into the jungles to welcome him home, and with the hope that his first glimpse of his lovely wife would be without the encumbering clamor of the children. He had been vaguely disappointed as the morning wore on without a reply to his message. However, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, was also distracted by the strange happenings of the previous night, so he did not give his usually alert and sensitive mind a chance to ponder upon this small change in the usual procedure.

  The chaotic welcome which greeted them at the compound was such that it was several minutes before the women and the warriors sensed Tarzan’s unease. Almost as one, when they did notice it, they knew the reason behind it. Where, they began to murmur among themselves, was the Lady Jane. Basuli’s number one wife was the first to speak.

  “Why,” she muttered angrily as she approached the tall white man, “did you not bring my man and the Lady Jane back with you? Why,” she added, her age allowing the tone of voice she used, “did you not feed these young ones from the food they brought you?” A stealthy glance from the old woman into the steely grey eyes of her master closed her mouth and brought dread into her heart. Where, she afraid to herself, where is my man and the woman? What harm has befallen them?

  Tarzan walked swiftly to her side. “Which way did they go, Basuli’s mate? When did they leave the gates? Where did they plan to meet me? And why,” his voice lowered in withheld anger, “why was I not notified of their plans?”

  Tageka, one of the older of the Waziri, had stood nearby during the short conversation between the old woman and Tarzan. Hearing the questions of his master, the warrior detached himself from the group of curious and worried listeners and, approaching the two, answered the man’s questions for the now weeping wife of Basuli.

  “They were to meet you at the great thorn boma, the one at the western edge of your land.” His skinny arm swept in the direction of the low afternoon sun. “They left the gates shortly after high noon, Tarzan, and they both were riding.” He lowered his voice, although every man and woman about them knew what next he would say. “Kamjei, our finest runner, set out early this morning to give you the message. He was given instructions by the boy you sent to us. He was told he could not fail to intercept your group. Did you…” the older man studied Tarzan’s face quietly, hopefully, “did you change your route in any way?”

  Tarzan didn’t hesitate in his reply. He had long been able to call on the Waziri. He knew and trusted them, but he knew their weaknesses as well as their strengths, and he still remembered the one time their fear had so beset their reasoning that they had left him in the hands of an enemy tribe determined upon destroying him. True, he recalled, they had returned in time to be of some assistance to his escape, but had been an ordinary man their return would have been far too late. Naturally, now, his first thought was of his wife Jane—and because he was with her, of the Waziri chief Basuli. Once he had found them, he would go out in search of the missing Kamjei. His swift mind was racing over the strange phenomenon of the silence which had filled the jungle, and the uneasy silences which had come about from time to time throughout this day. Had they, he wondered, anything to do with Kamjei’s disappearance? He would not mention this to the Waziri. To do so would give them reason for unease if they should dwell upon it. So it was that when Tageka asked his question, Tarzan replied immediately, “We varied not more than a mile one way or another. My runner must have been overly tired from his hurried trip. In all probability he neglected to give Kamjei a portion of my instructions. But, as you say, he is our finest runner. He will realize something has gone astray, and either wait out the night or possibly is already on his way back. You said Lady Greystoke and Basuli were riding?” He directed his last question to the old woman whose weeping had begun to subside at the sound of Tarzan’s strong and calm voice.

  “Yes. They both rode.”

  “Have one of the boys bring a mount for me at once. I could make faster time on my own, but if they’re still waiting at the boma, I think it best we all ride back together. I do not wish for Basuli to walk the distance.” He smiled encouragingly at the old woman as he spoke. Before another minute had passed a young warrior had reached the stables, and without bothering to saddle the animal, had jumped upon a high-spirited Arabian thoroughbred; and was racing him back to Tarzan’s side. As he slid off the beast, Tarzan was upon it, and with one quick wave of his hand rode rapidly off toward the west. As he passed through the gates he pushed down the errant thought of the silence. It had been to the north that the strange invaders had quieted his land. It couldn’t have reached the west yet. Tarzan rode faster.

  CHAPTER III

  The Voice of the Jungle

  As the late afternoon sun beat down upon Jane and her attendant Basuli, both were bent upon hiding their fears from one another. Several times during the long wait, Jane had found herself upon the verge of suggesting that they return, but each time she had stopped the words before they reached her lips. Several times also had Basuli had the same thought, and the same reaction. Both knew that to return would be to deny the greatness and infallibility of Tarzan. He would not fail them. Some delay might have overtaken him, but he had asked Jane to ride out, and he would not miss their rendezvous.

  Added to the general restlessness of the long afternoon had been the frequent and strange silences which had overtaken the area. The first time it happened they spoke of it. The second time they ignored it. The third time they avoided each other’s eyes. Once, in the midst of the phenomenon, both turned suddenly toward the boma. A rustle, as though of someone or something moving about within its confines had attracted their attention. It stopped almost as quickly as it had begun, so that neither Jane nor Basuli could have sworn they’d actually heard “something.” Both knew that neither man nor beast would travel within the boma. The very reason for its great protective value was its inhospitality to the flesh of mortal creatures. One could always stand before a boma, and know oneself safe from assault from that particular area. The huge man and the small woman both smiled self-consciously. Jane gave a half-shrug of her shoulders as if to say “We’re imagining things.” Basuli answered the shrug with an equally expressive gesture of his hands. They continued to wait, and they tried to ignore those awful silent periods.

  From time to time, when Basuli would turn his back and start another period of staring into the distance as if he could force Tarzan into appearing, Jane would turn and stare into the boma. Once she had the sensation that a pair of red-rimmed eyes were staring back at her, but as she blinked to sharpen her vision, once again there was nothing. The afternoon heat, she told herself. But she remained uneasy, and moved closer to Basuli, staring westward with him.

  The sun was sinking closer to the horizon, clouds of blazing scarlet, purple and golden hues floating above it when the sound of galloping hooves reached the ears of the two waiting people.

  “Tarzan! It must be Tarzan!” Jane jumped eagerly to her feet. “But what’s he doing on horseback? And why is he approaching from that direction?”

  Basuli grasped her arm gently, and moved her nearer to the boma. “Please, my lady. You will wait here for a moment.” He walked swiftly over to their horses, untying them from the small tree that had served as their hitching post for the long wait. He led them back to Jane. “I think it’s best if we mount ” he told her, as the cloud of dust which concealed the approaching rider drew ever closer, “It is most certainly either Tarzan or someone from the compound. However, it is best we be ready to move quickly if it is some stranger…” He did not add the words “or some enemy.” He did not need to do so. The afternoon had been weird enough already. Jane understood.

  The rider was almost upon them before the dust about him cleared, and the beloved form of her husband was identifiable to the waiting woman. With a cry of joy, she jumped from her horse, and ran the few scant feet separating them to greet him. He, in turn, was off his mount before he’d pulled him to a halt. The two embraced wordlessly as Basuli turned to gaze at the sunset.

  “I was so worried about you, my darling.” Jane was on the narrow edge of tears. “But I knew you would come for me. I don’t know why you are late, but nothing matters now. You are here, and oh, Tarzan, please don’t leave me again—not for a long time.”

  The great man held his mate tightly in his arms, smiling despite her tears at the use of his jungle name. Since their marriage Jane Clayton had tried to speak to him only as “John” when they were together. Before the warriors, on one of their mutual forays into his jungle, she might call him Tarzan,” but in his arms, and on their own lands, she wanted him to be John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, her civilized husband. Her use of “Tarzan” at this point only served to tell him how truly worried and frightened she had been. So engrossed was Tarzan with the comforting of his wife that his amazingly keen ears failed to detect the deadly silence surrounding him once again. Perhaps because of the horrible afternoon she’d spent, Jane was extraordinarily sensitive. It was her sudden stiffening that reached Tarzan first, and within a second he realized that the new enemy had indeed encroached upon the western areas of his land. Basuli’s fear was evidenced by his interruption of the husband and wife—something the Waziri never did to their respected lord and his lady.

  “Tarzan, Lady Jane, it is best we ride back while there is still a little bit of light, no?” the tall warrior approached them. Actually, Tarzan was grateful for the interruption. He did not want to discuss the silence with Jane. He did not want to tell her—not immediately—that he must leave her again, very soon. He must track down Kamjei. And he must find the thing behind the quiet—the thing that dared invade the land of Tarzan of the Apes. Gently, he disengaged her arms from about him. “Basuli speaks wisely, Jane.” Tarzan led her toward her waiting horse. “We shall ride back to our home while there is still light. There we will talk. There I will explain the happenings of the day to you.” Jane, encouraged by the fact that Tarzan had evidently not noticed anything untoward, told herself she’d given in to her imagination, and happily mounted her horse to start home. She shuddered, however, at the sudden noise of the hooves.

  By the time the three riders reached the compound of the Clayton estate, all of the Mogambi children had been fed and bedded down for the night. Tarzan and Jane left Basuli to the somewhat less than tender ministrations of his number one wife, and went into their bungalow together. The trusting Waziri women had set the table for supper, clean clothes were laid out on the beds, and the bathrooms were deep in thick, soft and spotless linens. Concealing his concern for the missing Kamjei, Tarzan spoke softly and warmly to Jane. “I rather suspect, my darling,” he smiled, his grey eyes moving tenderly over her tired face, “that both of us will feel much better after a good civilized shower, and a fairly sumptuous meal.” Laughing, he added, “Tell cook to have dinner ready in half an hour. Then, let’s dismiss everyone and spend the evening alone together.”

  “Oh, John,” Jane joined him in his laughter, “it is so good to have you back at home. I know how much you love your jungle—I, to, have grown to love it. But it’s better for me when we’re here. Even though I know that so many of your trips out there,” and she made a vague encompassing gesture covering the jungle outside, her voice losing its laughter, sobriety and concern toning it down, “that most of them are to help those in dire need, and even though I know I wouldn’t let you refuse to go if you should ever think of such a thing—still, John, I must be honest. It’s nicer here.”

  “I know, Jane. I know.” Tarzan heaved a deep sigh, thinking of the news he must give his wife shortly. “Now, let’s not think of those many trips this evening. You talk to cook. I’ll take my shower.”

  Although the welcome-home dinner the Waziri women had prepared for Lord and Lady Greystoke was a small masterpiece of the culinary arts, both of them failed to do it justice. Tarzan was unable to completely conceal his distraction from Jane. She, on her part, was still uneasy from the strange happenings of the afternoon. As a matter of fact, her mind was so preoccupied with the imagined noises in the boma, the red-rimmed eyes she “thought” she had seen, and those awful silences, that it was not until they had retired to their study for coffee that she thought to ask Tarzan why he had missed their rendezvous.

  For a moment Tarzan was at a loss for words. He had. hoped to temporize until the morning. It was not, he’d assured himself, as though Kamjei was endangered for these few short hours he was giving his wife. If he’d fallen prey to the new enemy, it had already happened. If he had managed to evade the new this long, he would be able to do so another few hours. Then Tarzan realized that Jane herself had shown him the way—a short time earlier when she had said: “… wouldn’t refuse to go if you should ever even think of such a thing … “

  “I had not spoken of this before, Jane, because I have but just returned from a long absence. But you must know very soon, so you may as well be told now.”

  “I have fear in my heart, John, that you have bad news of some sort for me.”

  “I missed our rendezvous this afternoon, not because I changed my route so that Kamjei did not reach me—nor because my runner failed to instruct him correctly. I did not meet you, Jane, because something— or someone—prevented Kamjei from meeting me. I must go back into the jungle and find him. I will have to leave very early in the morning.

  “I should have known at once, there could have been no other reason. But everything was so strange today.” She stopped speaking, turned her large eyes fully upon her husband. “Tarzan, did you not notice the strange silence that hit the boma shortly after you arrived?”

  “Yes, Jane. But I could conceal my reactions because I was surrounded by it last night, and from time to time throughout today’s journey. My friends in the jungle were as silent as my enemies. Something new is out there.”

  “Kamjei … ?” there was a shudder in her voice.

  “That is what I suspect,” answered Tarzan.

  “But hat can it be? How can you help him if you don’t know who—or what has harmed him?” Again, she shuddered.

  “Whoever, or whatever, the fact remains, I cannot have anything or anyone bringing new danger to the jungle. I have fought too long to bring safety and peace to my people. First it is Kamjei. If he is not found, or his enemy punished, who knows who will be next? There is nothing to do but to return to the trail Kamjei took and try to track him down—try to find out the silencer of the jungle beasts. There is simply nothing else to do.”

  “Oh, John,” cried Lady Greystoke, “find Kamjei, yes—but what terrible thing could silence all the beasts of the jungle? I cannot bear to think of you out there fighting some frightful strange being. I would rather leave Africa, live always in London or America, rather than to lose you to something—I know not what.”

  “Jane, Jane,” and Tarzan was laughing, “you are such a frightened little girl. What has happened to you? Have you forgotten that I am Tarzan? I am able to take care of myself, you know. And I shall take care of my people. Kamjei is one of them. I shall take Basuli and possibly as many as four or five other Waziri with me. No harm will befall us.”

  “There must be another way. It’s too soon. You’ve just come back.”

  “There is no other way, Jane. You know that. I know that. Come now, let us not ruin this evening in fear of tomorrow. That is not the way I have taught you, and I have come to believe you’ve learned my lessons well.” His voice was tender but filled with a finality that told Jane further arguments would be to no avail.

  The next morning at breakfast, Jane Clayton was calm, and on the surface unworried, as she listened to her husband’s preparations for his departure. She did not, however, find it an easy thing to meet the questioning eyes of Basuli’s number one wife.

  Tarzan and the six Waziri reached the clearing where Kamjei had first heard the dread silence within a matter of hours after they’d left the compound. His trail had been so clear and easy to follow that Tarzan had marched with the Waziri, instead of forging on ahead in search of clues, and the jungle this morning was filled with the usual screams of the big cats, chatter of monkeys and the hum of millions of insects, so Tartan did not backtrack as was his wont.