The five Waziri remained at the edge of the clearing as Tarzan and Basuli approached the clear pool, studying Kamjei’s prints which would not have been discernible to the civilized eye, clear as the printed word to the two men of the jungle. Tarzan stood for a moment beside the pool, looking forward intently, backward, then to both left and right, as well as upward. Basuli was watching him closely. It was, indeed, a rare sight to see the ape-man puzzled.

  “That’s odd,” he muttered, almost beneath his breath. “He was here. He sat here and stared into the pool. He went no closer, so his danger came not from the water.” He turned to look at Basuli, who nodded his agreement, but ventured no helpful remarks. Tarzan stopped to finger the grassy embankment upon which Kamjei had sat. “There is no sign of struggle, yet something—I don’t know.” He remained stopped, gazing at the spot. Finally he stood, and motioned Basuli to one side. He signaled to the five warriors at the edge of the clearing to remain where they were. “Basuli?”

  “Yes, Tarzan. It is strange, is it not?”

  “Something forced Kamjei’s body deeper into that grass than his own weight could have. Some kind of weight pressed him down. Yet there is no sign of a struggle, and the weight which hit him was not strong enough to have knocked him out. And there is no track leading from this spot. It’s as though he had vanished into thin air.” As he spoke the last words, both he and Basuli glanced involuntarily toward the trees; the two sparse ones to one side of Kamjei’s last appearance, and the fairly large one just above it. “Wait here for me, Basuli,” the ape-man said, as with a graceful gathering of his sinewy muscles he jumped into the air, reaching one of the lower branches and clambering rapidly into the large tree. Basuli stood, watching his master disappear into the leafy foliage. Once out of sight, no man would have been able to detect Tarzan’s presence in the heights of the tree. Within a matter of a few minutes his strong voice floated down with new instructions for his Waziri chieftain. “Basuli, have your men set up a small camp here, in this clearing. I have discovered something which might lead us to Kamjei”

  “Do you not wish us to follow the trail with you, Tarzan?” called up the worried warrior.

  “Not at this time, Basuli,” replied Tarzan. “This is a very strange thing, and I know not where it will lead. But wait here for me. If I have not returned within the hour, send a boy back to the compound for more of your warriors. I shall leave a trail for you to follow, should it become necessary. Above all, Basuli …” and a branch in the tree was moved aside as the face of the ape-man came into view, “say nothing of this to Lady Jane. She is not to be disturbed. If possible, tell your runner to bring the other men without her knowledge.” The face broke into a steely smile which was belief by the graveness of the eyes. “More than likely we shall not require the other men, but it is good to be prepared.”

  “He will leave immediately, Tarzan. The rest of us will wait here.”

  “He is not to leave for one hour, Basuli. It is important that you follow my instructions implicitly.”

  “We will set up the camp. And he will wait until the sun reaches the top of the tree.”

  “Good, Basuli.”

  The warriors at the edge of the clearing moved forward as Basuli began issuing rapid orders to them. As they were preparing their small campsite, none of them saw the tall figure of the ape-man leap down from the tree, sprint across the narrow space of clearing and swing once again into the giant trees surrounding them. The noises of the jungle seemed to grow into a gigantic crescendo as Tarzan departed. They had, to Basuli’s ears, an ominous sound of warning.

  CHAPTER IV

  Kamjei’s Horror

  Kamjei was never to remember the horror of the journey which took him from the clearing to the strange city in which he awakened. But the horror to which he opened his eyes would remain emblazoned upon his brain until death released him.

  The red-rimmed eyes, the face that had grown in the small pool until it became a reality, and the incredible body upon which it had been so grotesquely placed were seated next to Kamjei, waiting, it seemed, for his wakening. The eyes stared into his, as they had at the clearing, but no longer with the hypnotic effect it had held then. It was a human face—or it was, to say the least, far more human than one of the great apes which Kamjei had seen once when on a trip with Tarzan. It was fairly long, of a dull reddish hue which reminded Kamjei of a rifle left in the jungles during the great rains, remaining there during the long days of sun, and discovered after it had surrendered to the rust and rot of the land. It was sparsely but definitely blotched with what appeared to be either large pimples or small boils. Its nose was elongated but at the same time flattened, and the jaw went from a prominent jut to a soft curve on the left side. The red-rimmed eyes which stared at Kamjei were lidless and the brows above them a barely defined line of color, rather than of hair. They seemed, to the terrified Kamjei, to reflect both bestiality and ferocious contempt. It was when the creature opened its mouth to speak that the native knew true terror. For the violently purple tongue was forked, and the sounds which emanated seemed to come from the tongue itself rather than from the throat or vocal cords. Quick as a flash, Kamjei found his eyes torn from the menacing face and fastened in horror upon the body. For this head, this human face, topped the coils and dry scaling undulating length of a gigantic snake! It had been the sight of this body unwinding from the leafy branches of the tree that had terrified Kamjei into a state of shock as he sat in the jungle clearing. Now, realizing that he had fallen into the clutches of some strange mutant, Kamjei felt the fear and disgust re-enter his body. As he looked back at the face, he caught a glimpse of sadness, and menace, both blanked out quickly by an odd expression of overpowering fear. The forked tongue spewed out a series of sounds which seemed to be a curse, and with an incredible burst of speed the thick snake-like body uncoiled itself and dived crashingly through the tangle of green which covered the entrance to Kamjei’s room. It was then, as Kamjei tried to move, that he discovered he had been gently firmly bound with a mass of thin reed-like ropes. Head reeling with terror Kamjei lay back to await his captor’s return.

  For some time the warrior lay there in a torpor, fearing the sight or sound of another of the snake people, yet fearing his loneliness as well. He lay almost as one dead. At length he stirred and was again amazed at the freedom the reed bonds allowed his movements. They seemed more a restrictive means than a form of imprisonment. Kamjei struggled slowly but surely toward the shrub-covered entrance through which the strange snake-man had disappeared. He had not the thought of escape in his mind, but some instinct that if the light of day were still shining all was not lost. Reaching the entrance he stretched out a reed-wrapped hand to push aside the brush, but almost as he touched it, it moved itself. He was too filled with amazement to wonder this action. His place of imprisonment seemed to be high in the side of a rocky cliff. From the entrance way he could see a number of other shrub-covered patches, which appeared to be the mouths of similar cliff-cells. Interspersed between them were clearly defined entranceways, each fronted with large metallic discs which seemed to reflect the light of the sun a million-fold. As Kamjei turned his head to the right, his attention was caught by an entrance way which was far larger, and which was fronted by far more elaborate discs, than the others he had seen. It was also guarded by six of the snake-people, two on either side, and two coiled ominously directly in front of the opening. Kamjei’s heart sank again. When he’d discovered his freedom of movement, despite the reed bonds, and when he’d reached and removed the shrub at the entrance to his prison, he’d held a faint hope that he’d been captured by one strange mutant, and might possibly be able to escape him. The sight of the other entrances had not penetrated his mind as it should have, but the sight of the six snake-men guarding the big cave did. He was among a city of snake-people. There was no hope for escape. Kamjei fell forward, swooning with terror once more. It was thus that the Snake Queen and her courtiers found him.

  When Tarzan left Basuli and his men at the clearing, he was still puzzled. In the tree above Kamjei’s last resting place the ape-man had discovered traces of the movements of a gigantic snake, a snake larger than any he knew in his jungle. Yet, some of those traces seemed to have been deliberately left. Others seemed unlike a snake. Staying in the lower terrace although it limited his speed in movement, Tarzan followed the trail which lay clearly before his eyes. Clearly, yet defying belief. Kamjei’s presence was indicated only occasionally. Had he gone along willingly, Tarzan wondered, hiding his own trail behind him. If not, how could a snake, no matter how huge, manage to drag a human body without leaving a trail which could be read by an idiot? How, for that matter, the ape-man wondered, as he swung across a crocodile-infested body of water to a leafy bough on the other side, could a snake of this size manage to hide so much of his own trail? And what kind of snake was this that managed to travel from tree to tree, descending to the jungle pathways only from time to time? Someone, he thought to himself, has dared to try to confuse Tarzan of the Apes. They have left the trail of a snake, but they have left a trail no snake could leave. They are fools! And when I find them they shall be punished for attempting to make a fool of Tarzan!

  Intrigued as he was with the problem, Tarzan did not think of the time. It was only when the pangs of hunger made themselves known that he realized Basuli would have long since sent a runner back to his compound; long since received the reinforcements of Waziri. The trail of Kamjei and his captor was growing ever more fresh by now. Tarzan could not—would not turn back. But Tarzan was hungry.

  Gracefully, the ape-man dropped to the ground as he spotted the game trail beneath him. Through the use of ages of jungle beasts the trail had become a deep, narrow trench. The walls of this trench were topped on either side by an impenetrable thicket which joined with densely growing trees and thick-stemmed creepers and vines to compose rampart-like walls of impassable vegetation. Tarzan was approaching the point where the game trail opened to the river when he sniffed the wind keenly almost at the same time he saw a family of lions approaching from the other direction. They were four. Numa, the father, one full-grown lioness and two partially grown cubs. They would soon be as large and as formidable as their male parent. Tarzan halted and growled his warning. The lions came to a dead stop, as Numa, the great male in the lead, bared t his fangs and gave forth a roar of defiance to this strange creature.

  In his hand the ape-man held his heavy hunting spear. Hungry though he was, he had no intention of fighting Numa for food. Tarzan did not eat the meat of carnivores except in times of extreme necessity. This was not one of them. However, asking of the jungle, Tarzan could not back away from Numa. So he stood there, growling his defiance and roaring, just as the lion did. It was an exhibition of pure jungle bluff, on both sides. Numa could not give way before his family. Tarzan would not give way within his jungle. How long this duel of defiant and meaningless roaring might have continued it is difficult to say. The bedlam, however, had been so great that Tarzan failed to hear the great beast which was hurtling down on him from behind until a split second before it reached him. He whirled about to see Buto, the rhinoceros, eyes blazing madly, charging him, death evident in every step he took. He was so close as Tarzan turned that escape seemed impossible. Tarzan had not received his training from the great apes in vain. So perfectly were his mind and his muscles coordinated, so well did he know every one of his beast foes, that he had hurled his spear toward Buto’s heart in the same moment that he’d turned. Even as he threw the spear, the ape-man leaped into the air. So close had Buto been, that Tarzan alighted upon his back, escaping the horn which had been poised to kill him. Buto screamed with pain, and, spotting the lions, decided they were responsible for this agony. As he bore madly down upon them Tarzan leaped nimbly into a branch overhead. The second cub was the first to meet Buto’s charge, and as he was buried screaming and dying over the rhino’s back, his enraged mother and father assaulted the wounded beast, ripping and tearing him as he gored and trampled them. From the safety of his perch Tarzan looked down, keenly interested. Ordinarily, he knew, Numa would have had little chance against the maddened Buto. But Tarzan’s hunting spear was a heavy one, shod with iron, and it had cut deeply into the rhino’s chest. And Numa had the love of a father for his cub, and the deep anger of the father for his dead child. The lioness’s ferocity matched her mate’s. So it was that Tarzan of the Apes watched the unusual duel to its unusual finish. There were no winners. The remaining cub had slunk fearfully back along the game trail as the gory battle progressed. He was too young to survive long in the jungle without the help of his parents. Buto finished off Numa first, then the enraged lioness met his horn and her death. As he stood over them, the blood spouting from his torn flesh, Tarzan’s spear still within him, he sank slowly to his knees, then rolled over on his side. Buto was dead. The sounds of the battle still echoed in the vast jungles as Tarzan descended from his perch, cut his spear from the rhino’s body and hacking a steak from his flank, vanished back into the trees. Tarzan would retire to the middle terrace, eat his meal, then continue on the trail of his missing runner, Kamjei.

  Back at the clearing, Basuli was in the midst of an almost equally ferocious battle with the badly frightened Tageka. For the runner who had returned to the compound for additional Waziri had not had the cunning nor imagination to evade the questions of the worried Jane, Tarzan’s mate. Nor, to give him—as well as Basuli—their due, had either been aware of the unexpected visitors who had arrived on an urgent humane mission at the Greystoke ranch that morning.

  Basuli knew he was to set out after Tarzan. His master had given him clear instructions. Tageka had known he was to roust up the additional warriors without frightening Jane; even, for that part of the arrangement, without letting her, know he was back. When Tageka arrived back at the campsite with his Waziri friends, Basuli was happy. But when Jane Clayton, Lady Greystoke, and her strange friends walked in behind the first Waziri, Basuli was a person of vastly confused emotions. He had let down the great white-skinned ape-man ; he must think as would that man as to how to take care of the frail people; he must use his wits and his wiles to escape from the campsite and trail Tarzan without others knowing of it. Therefore, the wild argument. Basuli, blaming Tageka. Tageka, trying to apologize and explain, at one and the same time. This extraordinary scene was still going on as Jane was trying to make her new, equally strange guests at ease, and as the sun went down.

  The silence, missing throughout this day, returned.

  CHAPTER V

  The Three Strangers

  As the great ball of fire that was the jungle sun began to sink toward the treetops of the western swale a sense of renewed urgency entered the heart of Tarzan. He had traveled far that afternoon, and was now in a portion of the jungle which was new and strange to him. For some time he had been aware of a low, rumbling sound, a continuous murmur which seemed to emanate from the jungle before him. As he moved, now cautiously, through the lower terrace, the sound became louder. It was, the ape-man thought, strangely like the bubbling of a soup in some great iron cauldron. Suddenly he came upon the source of it. He reached a small clearing, fantastically hued by the setting sun. In the center of it was a lake made not of water, but of a black, almost pitch-like substance. The surface of the lake rose and fell in anguished boiling movement, and the ground of the clearing about it was covered by a steam-like haze. As Tarzan gazed out at it from the slight branch upon which he stood he wondered when the original volcanic outburst had occurred. It must, he thought to himself, have been many years ago; it must also, he realized, been of tremendous force, as the bubbling like before him was proof that the volcano had not yet spent itself. Mounds of lava and black rocks were strewn wildly about the clearing. The setting sun gleamed suddenly upon a strange, snake-like path which wound itself across the clearing, about the lake, and disappeared into a rocky cliff on the far side. Without thought of personal danger or hazard, Tarzan of the Apes leaped lightly down from the tree and ran swiftly along the dark path. For the sun’s glare had shown Tarzan not only the path, but indications of recent passage along it—the same type of indications he’d been following all day. Somewhere on the other side of that volcanic pool, Tarzan knew he would find Kamjei, his number one runner.

  As he reached the forbidding cliff, he heard a multitude of strange, sibilant callings. They seemed, to the wily ape-man, to be guiding him toward their source. He reached a cleft in the rocks which was an obvious entrance to some strange habitation beyond. Again, without hesitation, but with all his jungle wiles and alert senses working for him, Tarzan entered the cave. It was a small cavern, dimly lit by the remaining rays of the sun. There was a small opening on the other side, and Tarzan was forced to stoop to pass through it. As he straightened up, he looked about in utter amazement. He was standing in an enclosed garden. Trees, shrubs and riotously colored jungle flora grew in wild confusion, yet, at the same time, seemed to have a semblance of some strange formal garden. It was evident that the spot was not generally used because the one small path which displayed itself to the naked eye was half overgrown with plants and small bushes. Tarzan turned to look back toward the cave-entrance. To his surprise it seemed to have disappeared. He decided it was but a trick of the setting sun, a mirage-like effect which would disappear as soon as the sun moved a bit farther down on its path.

  “You are late, oh great tarmangani. We have been waiting for you long. Now we must wait for the dawn before we may meet with you.