PhuePwint/jungle_book · Datasets at Hugging Face

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who fell into their clutches.

Sheeta, in the meanwhile, had felt his great fangs sink into but a
single jugular. For a moment he mauled the corpse, and then he spied
Kai Shang darting down the companionway toward his cabin.

With a shrill scream Sheeta was after him—a scream which awoke an
almost equally uncanny cry in the throat of the terror-stricken
Chinaman.

But Kai Shang reached his cabin a fraction of a second ahead of the
panther, and leaping within slammed the door—just too late. Sheeta’s
great body hurtled against it before the catch engaged, and a moment
later Kai Shang was gibbering and shrieking in the back of an upper
berth.

Lightly Sheeta sprang after his victim, and presently the wicked days
of Kai Shang of Fachan were ended, and Sheeta was gorging himself upon
tough and stringy flesh.

A moment scarcely had elapsed after Schneider leaped upon Jane Clayton
and wrenched the revolver from her hand, when the door of the cabin
opened and a tall and half-naked white man stood framed within the
portal.

Silently he leaped across the cabin. Schneider felt sinewy fingers at
his throat. He turned his head to see who had attacked him, and his
eyes went wide when he saw the face of the ape-man close above his own.

Grimly the fingers tightened upon the mate’s throat. He tried to
scream, to plead, but no sound came forth. His eyes protruded as he
struggled for freedom, for breath, for life.

Jane Clayton seized her husband’s hands and tried to drag them from the
throat of the dying man; but Tarzan only shook his head.

“Not again,” he said quietly. “Before have I permitted scoundrels to
live, only to suffer and to have you suffer for my mercy. This time we
shall make sure of one scoundrel—sure that he will never again harm us
or another,” and with a sudden wrench he twisted the neck of the
perfidious mate until there was a sharp crack, and the man’s body lay
limp and motionless in the ape-man’s grasp. With a gesture of disgust
Tarzan tossed the corpse aside. Then he returned to the deck, followed
by Jane and the Mosula woman.

The battle there was over. Schmidt and Momulla and two others alone
remained alive of all the company of the Cowrie, for they had found
sanctuary in the forecastle. The others had died, horribly, and as they
deserved, beneath the fangs and talons of the beasts of Tarzan, and in
the morning the sun rose on a grisly sight upon the deck of the unhappy
Cowrie; but this time the blood which stained her white planking was
the blood of the guilty and not of the innocent.

Tarzan brought forth the men who had hidden in the forecastle, and
without promises of immunity from punishment forced them to help work
the vessel—the only alternative was immediate death.

A stiff breeze had risen with the sun, and with canvas spread the
Cowrie set in toward Jungle Island, where a few hours later, Tarzan
picked up Gust and bid farewell to Sheeta and the apes of Akut, for
here he set the beasts ashore to pursue the wild and natural life they
loved so well; nor did they lose a moment’s time in disappearing into
the cool depths of their beloved jungle.

That they knew that Tarzan was to leave them may be doubted—except
possibly in the case of the more intelligent Akut, who alone of all the
others remained upon the beach as the small boat drew away toward the
schooner, carrying his savage lord and master from him.

And as long as their eyes could span the distance, Jane and Tarzan,
standing upon the deck, saw the lonely figure of the shaggy anthropoid
motionless upon the surf-beaten sands of Jungle Island.

It was three days later that the Cowrie fell in with H.M. sloop-of-war
Shorewater, through whose wireless Lord Greystoke soon got in
communication with London. Thus he learned that which filled his and
his wife’s heart with joy and thanksgiving—little Jack was safe at Lord
Greystoke’s town house.

It was not until they reached London that they learned the details of
the remarkable chain of circumstances that had preserved the infant
unharmed.

It developed that Rokoff, fearing to take the child aboard the Kincaid
by day, had hidden it in a low den where nameless infants were
harboured, intending to carry it to the steamer after dark.

His confederate and chief lieutenant, Paulvitch, true to the long years
of teaching of his wily master, had at last succumbed to the treachery
and greed that had always marked his superior, and, lured by the
thoughts of the immense ransom that he might win by returning the child
unharmed, had divulged the secret of its parentage to the woman who
maintained the foundling asylum. Through her he had arranged for the
substitution of another infant, knowing full well that never until it
was too late would Rokoff suspect the trick that had been played upon
him.

The woman had promised to keep the child until Paulvitch returned to
England; but she, in turn, had been tempted to betray her trust by the
lure of gold, and so had opened negotiations with Lord Greystoke’s

who fell into their clutches.

Sheeta, in the meanwhile, had felt his great fangs sink into but a

single jugular. For a moment he mauled the corpse, and then he spied

Kai Shang darting down the companionway toward his cabin.

With a shrill scream Sheeta was after him—a scream which awoke an

almost equally uncanny cry in the throat of the terror-stricken

Chinaman.

But Kai Shang reached his cabin a fraction of a second ahead of the

panther, and leaping within slammed the door—just too late. Sheeta’s

great body hurtled against it before the catch engaged, and a moment

later Kai Shang was gibbering and shrieking in the back of an upper

berth.

Lightly Sheeta sprang after his victim, and presently the wicked days

of Kai Shang of Fachan were ended, and Sheeta was gorging himself upon

tough and stringy flesh.

A moment scarcely had elapsed after Schneider leaped upon Jane Clayton

and wrenched the revolver from her hand, when the door of the cabin

opened and a tall and half-naked white man stood framed within the

portal.

Silently he leaped across the cabin. Schneider felt sinewy fingers at

his throat. He turned his head to see who had attacked him, and his

eyes went wide when he saw the face of the ape-man close above his own.

Grimly the fingers tightened upon the mate’s throat. He tried to

scream, to plead, but no sound came forth. His eyes protruded as he

struggled for freedom, for breath, for life.

Jane Clayton seized her husband’s hands and tried to drag them from the

throat of the dying man; but Tarzan only shook his head.

“Not again,” he said quietly. “Before have I permitted scoundrels to

live, only to suffer and to have you suffer for my mercy. This time we

shall make sure of one scoundrel—sure that he will never again harm us

or another,” and with a sudden wrench he twisted the neck of the

perfidious mate until there was a sharp crack, and the man’s body lay

limp and motionless in the ape-man’s grasp. With a gesture of disgust

Tarzan tossed the corpse aside. Then he returned to the deck, followed

by Jane and the Mosula woman.

The battle there was over. Schmidt and Momulla and two others alone

remained alive of all the company of the Cowrie, for they had found

sanctuary in the forecastle. The others had died, horribly, and as they

deserved, beneath the fangs and talons of the beasts of Tarzan, and in

the morning the sun rose on a grisly sight upon the deck of the unhappy

Cowrie; but this time the blood which stained her white planking was

the blood of the guilty and not of the innocent.

Tarzan brought forth the men who had hidden in the forecastle, and

without promises of immunity from punishment forced them to help work

the vessel—the only alternative was immediate death.

A stiff breeze had risen with the sun, and with canvas spread the

Cowrie set in toward Jungle Island, where a few hours later, Tarzan

picked up Gust and bid farewell to Sheeta and the apes of Akut, for

here he set the beasts ashore to pursue the wild and natural life they

loved so well; nor did they lose a moment’s time in disappearing into

the cool depths of their beloved jungle.

That they knew that Tarzan was to leave them may be doubted—except

possibly in the case of the more intelligent Akut, who alone of all the

others remained upon the beach as the small boat drew away toward the

schooner, carrying his savage lord and master from him.

And as long as their eyes could span the distance, Jane and Tarzan,

standing upon the deck, saw the lonely figure of the shaggy anthropoid

motionless upon the surf-beaten sands of Jungle Island.

It was three days later that the Cowrie fell in with H.M. sloop-of-war

Shorewater, through whose wireless Lord Greystoke soon got in

communication with London. Thus he learned that which filled his and

his wife’s heart with joy and thanksgiving—little Jack was safe at Lord

Greystoke’s town house.

It was not until they reached London that they learned the details of

the remarkable chain of circumstances that had preserved the infant

unharmed.

It developed that Rokoff, fearing to take the child aboard the Kincaid

by day, had hidden it in a low den where nameless infants were

harboured, intending to carry it to the steamer after dark.

His confederate and chief lieutenant, Paulvitch, true to the long years

of teaching of his wily master, had at last succumbed to the treachery

and greed that had always marked his superior, and, lured by the

thoughts of the immense ransom that he might win by returning the child

unharmed, had divulged the secret of its parentage to the woman who

maintained the foundling asylum. Through her he had arranged for the

substitution of another infant, knowing full well that never until it

was too late would Rokoff suspect the trick that had been played upon

him.

The woman had promised to keep the child until Paulvitch returned to

England; but she, in turn, had been tempted to betray her trust by the

lure of gold, and so had opened negotiations with Lord Greystoke’s