Arthur Burke looted curiously at the object of their conversation. “I say, you mentioned the fact that they carry no weapons? What about predators?”

  “Ah, yes. Well, you see, old boy, where they live there simply aren’t any. None. No other race of people. No savage animals. Therefore, their culture, such as it is, has no need of weapons. Hence, no weapons.”

  “What of the yeti?” Tarzan inquired.

  “Our friend the Abominable Snowman?” Keys-Smythe sought for words. “That’s a bit difficult to explain. Our chap here has had one rather unnerving experience with a pair of them, but …”

  But before the conversation could go any further, the girl came to summon them for luncheon. Tarzan clattered something at her in Waziri, and she nodded, giggling. “I say, Keys-Smythe,” Lord Greystoke said, hardly able to restrain a smile, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking the girl to guide Teemu to the native compound for food. I assume it would be more to his taste, and while my own nostrils aren’t easily offended, it is a rather warm day. Would you be kind enough to relay the message?”

  Freddy addressed the Sherpa in his native tongue, and Teemu got quickly to his feet, nodding and grinning. The girl beckoned to him, giggling again, and Teemu giggled in return, following her. “I do believe the old beggar’s falling in love,” Freddy said. “Well, I hope the girl likes the odor of rancid yak butter. Old Teemu’s got about thirty-five years of it rubbed into his hide to protect him from the elements, and no foreseeable amount of bathing’s going to wash that off!”

  Laughing, the man trooped in to a delicious midday meal.

  Jedak, the bull ape, leader of the great apes, had mounted guard over his sleeping tribe. They had feasted and danced all night, as they paid tribute to Goro, the moon, and now they slept the sleep of exhaustion. That was good and as it should be. Idly, with fingers the size of a banana, he scratched his shaggy hide, eyes narrowed and yellowed fangs bared as, with a grunt of pleasure, he located the bothersome mite that had burrowed its way down to his skin. He shifted into a more comfortable position in the fork of the tree, almost drowsing off, then came alert at a buzzing in the sky. Without hesitation, he raced upward through the middle terrace to the upper terrace, moving with incredible speed and agility despite his enormous bulk, carefully but unconsciously choosing limbs which would bear his massive weight. He shaded his little red-rimmed eyes with one great paw, swaying precariously in the thinner branches. There it was! One of the silver birds, gleaming in the flashing rays of the morning sunlight. It circled twice, then started to descend, and from past experience he knew it would land at the home of Tarzan, the white-skinned mangani. Doubtless it portended something. He would have to think about this. He dropped back to the middle terrace, giving Taglat a mighty kick which brought that worthy awake with a start. “You keep watch now. I sleep. When the sun is directly overhead, waken Chulk. There are many things we must do tonight. Perhaps. I must think on it.”

  Grumbling at such cavalier treatment, Taglat dropped to the lower terrace to keep a lockout for daytime predators, and Jedak took over his nest. He settled himself in comfortably, vainly trying to dredge up from the depths of his brain some thought which the sight of the silver bird had started, but before the thought arrived, he fell fast asleep. A caterpillar, crawling across his face, awakened him momentarily, and without opening his eyes he reached up and popped it into his mouth, munching contentedly, then fell fast asleep again.

  When he finally wakened, it was midafternoon, and he led his tribe to the drinking hole for water. After the bulls had refreshed themselves, they stood a rather restless and absentminded guard as the shes and the pups moved in to quench their thirst. Two of the pups got into a squealing argument, which ended in one of them getting thoroughly ducked. Jedak cuffed the other, sending the furry little fellow tumbling end over end. “Never pollute the waterhole,” he warned. “That is The Law!”

  Taglat, who had a longer memory than most of the great apes, asked Jedak, “You said we had much to do tonight, Jedak?”

  “What we do is for me to decide!” Jedak barked, stomping furiously on the ground.

  So ended that exchange. In all truth, Jedak had, for the time being, at least, forgotten all about the silver bird, let alone what it was that it had reminded him to do.

  Glumly, the leader ordered his people to seek nuts, berries, grubs, or anything that passed for a diet with them. His mate, Neeta, sensing his unease, kept her distance. Jedak’s rages were unpredictable. The others chattered amiably enough among themselves, and the cubs, as usual, tumbled about in the brush, straying away from the pack with their distracted mothers chasing and slapping them impartially.

  Shortly before the dinner hour, Jane, Lady Greystoke, tapped lightly on Patricia’s door. The afternoon siesta had freshened the younger girl’s beauty, and she looked positively radiant. “Do come in. Lady Greystoke,” she exclaimed upon seeing her hostess. “I do hope I haven’t overslept. I was quite exhausted.”

  “Call me ‘Jane’ my dear. I think any titles would be out of place under the circumstances; the only two women on a long and arduous journey.”

  “You know, this is my first trip to Africa. I’m terribly thrilled, and perhaps just a bit frightened.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Frightened? But you mustn’t be. It’s all in knowing the country, you see.”

  “For example, those tall, fierce-looking natives wearing the gaudiest trappings, and always leaning on their spears, some of them with lion’s tails fastened to their belts. Aren’t you terribly frightened of them, you, a European member of the nobility?”

  “Oh, didn’t you know? I’m an American by birth. I came to Africa by a most unusual method. Shipwreck. And here is where I met and married John. I’d never seen England before our marriage … And, no, dear, I’m not terrified of those ‘savages’ you describe. They’re our Waziri warriors, a sort of palace guard. The women and girls who work around the bungalow, the guest houses and the garden are their wives. I assure you that I might occasionally feel a bit frightened if it were not for the Waziri. They positively worship John, and I sort of bask in the reflected glory.”

  “But what do they do? I mean, the women seem to be working all the time, but I’ve never seen one of the men …”

  Jane laughed. “You’ve never seen one do manual labor? Nor will you, my dear. No, I’m afraid the Waziri is a complete male chauvinist. There’s much for them to do, however. You see, my dear, our holdings here are quite large. As large, say, as England. There are tens of thousands of natives to police and keep in order. Hundreds of thousands of acres of staple crops to plant, protect from wild game, cultivate and harvest. Then, too, we have-oh, a hundred thousand head of cattle, more or less. And there is game to be killed for the tables of all these people, many of whom we forbid to carry arms of any sort, and so they must be provided for, you see. And there are poachers to keep out, man-killing beasts to track down and slay before they decimate our villages; oh, any number of things. You might almost call the Waziri our constabulary.”

  Patricia listened to all this with gloaming eyes, enthralled. “Why,” she said, gasping, “it’s a kingdom you run here, isn’t it? And Lord Greystoke is the king!”

  Jane patted the other girl on the arm. “If so, he’s a most benevolent despot. Our holdings here hardly pay their way. In fact, just the opposite, like as not. You see, John loves this country as it is, unspoiled, with a natural balance of things, if you know what I mean. Of course, he realizes, as I do, that progress is inevitable, but he wants his people to be prepared, without any government hanky-panky. I’m sure some sort of formal recognition from England could be easily arranged, but then in would come the European to exploit these wonderful, primitive people, to cheat them, to spread disease and distrust, to put one faction against another. John’s way is slow, but it’s orderly and proving most effective, by the way. It would be difficult, if not downright impossible, for you to see the changes that have been made here in the past twenty years, but to me it’s absolutely incredible. Well, enough of that. Tell me all about your young man. Mr. Burke is your fiancé, isn’t he?”

  Patricia dimpled. “He’s-well, he’s just wonderful, Jane. Intelligent, without being the slightest bit stuffy. He has a way of getting right at the heart of things, and he … well, he’s simply …”

  And so went the girl-talk, each boasting, understandably of her man.

  Lord Greystoke stood up, immaculate in dinner clothes and strikingly handsome. “I trust you found dinner to your satisfaction,” he said. “Ladies, we leave you to your own devices and perhaps a bit of sherry. Gentlemen, brandy and cigars in the den?”

  Tarzan knew the formalities of society, although he found them a bit stuffy. He neither drank nor smoke, but was nothing like a prude about it. It was simply that he’d never had the opportunity to acquire either of the pleasant vices. Still, he managed to keep an excellent cellar and a well-stocked humidor, and as they entered the study he waved to a table set out with bottles, glasses, soda and even, incredibly, ice!

  “By Jove, Lord Greystoke, you do yourself well out here in the midst of nowhere!” That came from Arthur Burke. “Of all things, ice!”

  Tarzan smiled. “Nothing sensational about it, Mr. Burke. Lady Greystoke decided several years ago that we were a bit primitive. As a consequence, we brought in a bit of equipment by lorry. Generators, lighting fixtures, fridge and deep freezers galore. Plus an ice-making machine.”

  “I suppose you had the devil of a time getting the natives accustomed to them, eh? Looking inside for ‘devils’ and all that?”

  “No, Mr. Burke. That’s a common misconception, I’m afraid, too widely held by the European. If I don’t sound too stuffy. I’d like to explain that. It’s a question of semantics, really. For example, a native or, for that matter, one of the great apes, will call an airplane a ‘silver bird,’ although he knows perfectly well that it is some sort of machine that flies through the air and carries people and luggage. It’s just that ‘silver bird’ fits his tongue with a great deal more ease. As with a piece of electrical equipment. It buzzes, perhaps, or gives off little blue sparks, and certainly will ‘bite’ you if you place your finger on the wrong connections, eh? We call such a device a motor, and he calls it a ‘devil,’ and who’s to say who has the right of it? He doesn’t pretend to know exactly what makes it run, but no more do you nor I. So much for that. Gentlemen, I suggest we take this opportunity to acquaint me, at least, with some more details of this yeti we seek, and exactly what your plans are, Freddy, in setting about it once we reach the spot. I’ll undertake to guide the party there, but I haven’t the least idea of what it is we’re looking for, nor how we’re to go about whatever it is we’re going about. I presume you want to either bag one or bring him out alive, is that it?”

  The Hon. Freddy Keys-Smythe warmed to his subject. “First, the yeti. The name is a Sherpa word, which actually was wrongly translated into the rather picturesque ‘Abominable Snowman.’ Actually, a more correct translation (although one cannot translate literally from the Sherpa tongue) would be ‘Rock man’ or ‘Man who lives in rocks.’ This should give us at least a hint of where to look, eh? They range in height from about four feet to seven or even possibly eight feet.”

  “That small?” Burke inquired, sounding rather disappointed.

  “If it will give you any cheer, old man, the one sighted in Northern California was reported to be considerably larger, something between ten and twelve feet in height and incredibly strong. Picked up a wheel off a piece of earth-moving equipment that weighed in at well over eight hundred pounds and tossed it across a road and down a cliffside. Took a block and tackle to recover it. No, I think I should settle for one of the pups, if that’s what the little ones are. Or they might be the females. We’ve simply no way of knowing. As to the nature of the beast, they seem terrifically shy and retiring, retreating rapidly when startled and seldom seen in the daytime at all. Their diet is berries, twigs, certain kinds of lichen, small rodents. When forced by hunger, apparently, they will go far astray from their regular habitat to raid cattle -one was seen carrying off an entire ox-and such other cultivated items as yams, corn, and so on.”

  Tarzan listened with rapt attention. It sounded almost as if it were his friends, the great apes, that were being discussed.

  Burke interrupted again, “One moment, Mr. Keys-Smythe. I believe you mentioned that your precious Teemu and his father had been under attack by a pair of them? Would you call that shy?”

  Freddy took this question seriously. “There were rather unusual circumstances prevailing. Teemu and his father were many miles away from their own area seeking some stray yak when a sudden blizzard struck. Teemu’s father recalled an old stone hut that he’d used for shelter before. To stay out in the storm, exposed, would be certain death, even for a Sherpa, who is almost immune to cold. They eventually found the hut, made their way inside and barricaded the door against the storm. Teemu’s father kindled a small fire, and they settled in for the night. Several hours later, they heard the door being violently shaken. They called out ‘Who is there?’ but heard only a peculiar, grunting sound that was about half whistle. Incidentally, gentlemen, this is a common factor that ties in so many of the reports from so many places over such a long period of time. Teemu had never heard it before, but his father had, and whispered to Teemu: ‘Yeti.’ There was a small window in one wall of the hut, which had been shuttered with such material as had come to hand sometime in the past, and this suddenly burst open, admitting a blast of icy air and snow, and then through the window came a long, hairy arm which groped about blindly. Both men were terrified, and Teemu grasped a brand from the fire and thrust it against the arm. Needless to say the arm was hastily withdrawn. Once again there was a banging at the front door, which bulged ominously, and then a pounding upon the roof of the low hut. Suddenly, one of the stout planks was peeled back and a face that was frighteningly human stared down at them. Teemu brandished his torch at it again, and it disappeared. Teemu arnd his father rushed to the small window, and could see a pair of burly, hairy figures dashing off into the storm. Teemu’s theory, and I’ll accept it for lack of a better one, was that the yeti had been using the abandoned hut for shelter themselves and were enraged to find it closed to them. You will note, however, that as soon as they found the hut was occupied by humans, they fled.”

  “Quite a story.” Quite a story.” Burke seemed a bit cynical.

  Keys-Smythe shrugged. “You’re under no obligation to believe it, of course. However, I do, if for no other reason than that no Sherpa has ever been known to lie. Another of their curious traits, eh? Let’s see, as to their general description, in addition to the discrepancy in size, which might be accounted for in any number of ways, we have the extremely human-looking faces. Their heads are large and come to a sort of conical point, giving them a grotesque appearance. Their arms are quite long, although not apelike, and their feet are extremely large, out of all proportion, in fact. It’s been theorized that this enables them to go where others can’t; that is to say, a sort of built-in Snowshoe. And one last detail, although I rather hate to mention it. Their hair, or fur if you prefer, is of a rather grizzled shade, with considerable reddish and greyish hairs in it. And, “he glanced about the room with a half-smile, “the point the naturalists choke on: on the bottom half of their bodies, the hair grows upward. On the upper half, the hair grows downward. Make of it what you will, but dozens of verified sightings confirm this.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “When we find one,” Tarzan interjected smoothly, “I suppose we’ll see. Now, what preparations have you made for actually capturing one?”

  “Ah!” Freddie rubbed his hands together. “All the usual, of course. Heavy caliber arnmo, stun grenades, nets, ropes, the rest of it. But my pride and joy is twofold. First, I’ve laid in a good supply of bait. Delicacies the yeti is known to enjoy. I plan to bait the trap, not just wait until the beggar shows up and pot him. And the piPce de résistance is a round half-dozen of the newest thing out; the hypodermic gun. Deadly accurate up to three hundred yards, silent so that you can get in more than one shot, and it’ll knock down an elephant and keep him knocked down within a minute after he’s been hit. Carries a powerful drug that’s guaranteed to keep our friend under for six hours. Ample time to photograph him from all angles, truss him up and haul him back to base camp. There, I’ll give him another shot in the arm, and the boys, Al and Charley Jhere, can give him first-class passage, by airplane, to dear old London.”

  The pilot and copilot, neither of whom had said a word up until now, glanced at each other. Al spoke up. “Freddy Keys-Smythe, you’re barmy, that’s what you are.”

  Freddy looked at him in astonishment. “Whyever would you say a thing like that?”

  “D’you seriously think that my pal Charley and I are going to share an airplane with a beast like that? I mean to say, what if he snaps to, regains consciousness?”

  “Impossible.”

  “How the blinking devil do you know it’s impossible? You’ve never drugged one, before have you? No one’s ever drugged one before, have they? No bloody chance, young Fred. This isn’t mutiny, but it’s damned near it!”

  Again, Tarzan stepped intp the breach. “Gentlemen, I think we’re losing our tempers in idle speculation. First let’s find our yeti, then let’s capture him, and then we can decide what to do with him. Now, Fred, when’s all your gear due in?”

  “Any time after tomorrow. Burke, here, will be particularly glad to see it. He’ll want to get his radio laid on for London. He’s covering this for a newspaper syndicate, you know.”