In the ensuing darkness Tarzan disappeared in the streets of Tu-lur beyond the palace gate.For a time he was aware of sounds of pursuit but the fact that they trailed away and died in the direction of Jad-in-lul informed him that they were searching in the wrong direction, for he had turned south out of Tu-lur purposely to throw them off his track.Beyond the outskirts of the city he turned directly toward the northwest, in which direction lay A-lur.
In his path he knew lay Jad-bal-lul, the shore of which he was compelled to skirt, and there would be a river to cross at the lower end of the great lake upon the shores of which lay A-lur.
What other obstacles lay in his way he did not know but he believed that he could make better time on foot than by attempting to steal a canoe and force his way up stream with a single paddle.It was his intention to put as much distance as possible between himself and Tu-lur before he slept for he was sure that Mo-sar would not lightly accept his loss, but that with the coming of day, or possibly even before, he would dispatch warriors in search of him.
A mile or two from the city he entered a forest and here at last he felt such a measure of safety as he never knew in open spaces or in cities.The forest and the jungle were his birthright.No creature that went upon the ground upon four feet, or climbed among the trees, or crawled upon its belly had any advantage over the ape-man in his native heath.As myrrh and frankincense were the dank odors of rotting vegetation in the nostrils of the great Tarmangani.He squared his broad shoulders and lifting his head filled his lungs with the air that he loved best.The heavy fragrance of tropical blooms, the commingled odors of the myriad-scented life of the jungle went to his head with a pleasurable intoxication far more potent than aught contained in the oldest vintages of civilization.
He took to the trees now, not from necessity but from pure love of the wild freedom that had been denied him so long.Though it was dark and the forest strange yet he moved with a surety and ease that bespoke more a strange uncanny sense than wondrous skill.He heard ja moaning somewhere ahead and an owl hooted mournfully to the right of him--long familiar sounds that imparted to him no sense of loneliness as they might to you or to me, but on the contrary one of companionship for they betokened the presence of his fellows of the jungle, and whether friend or foe it was all the same to the ape-man.
He came at last to a little stream at a spot where the trees did not meet above it so he was forced to descend to the ground and wade through the water and upon the opposite shore he stopped as though suddenly his godlike figure had been transmuted from flesh to marble.Only his dilating nostrils bespoke his pulsing vitality.For a long moment he stood there thus and then swiftly, but with a caution and silence that were inherent in him he moved forward again, but now his whole attitude bespoke a new urge.
There was a definite and masterful purpose in every movement of those steel muscles rolling softly beneath the smooth brown hide.
He moved now toward a certain goal that quite evidently filled him with far greater enthusiasm than had the possible event of his return to A-lur.
And so he came at last to the foot of a great tree and there he stopped and looked up above him among the foliage where the dim outlines of a roughly rectangular bulk loomed darkly.There was a choking sensation in Tarzan's throat as he raised himself gently into the branches.It was as though his heart were swelling either to a great happiness or a great fear.
Before the rude shelter built among the branches he paused listening.From within there came to his sensitive nostrils the same delicate aroma that had arrested his eager attention at the little stream a mile away.He crouched upon the branch close to the little door.
"Jane," he called, "heart of my heart, it is I."
The only answer from within was as the sudden indrawing of a breath that was half gasp and half sigh, and the sound of a body falling to the floor.Hurriedly Tarzan sought to release the thongs which held the door but they were fastened from the inside, and at last, impatient with further delay, he seized the frail barrier in one giant hand and with a single effort tore it completely away.And then he entered to find the seemingly lifeless body of his mate stretched upon the floor.
He gathered her in his arms; her heart beat; she still breathed, and presently he realized that she had but swooned.
When Jane Clayton regained consciousness it was to find herself held tightly in two strong arms, her head pillowed upon the broad shoulder where so often before her fears had been soothed and her sorrows comforted.At first she was not sure but that it was all a dream.Timidly her hand stole to his cheek.
"John," she murmured, "tell me, is it really you?"
In reply he drew her more closely to him."It is I," he replied.
"But there is something in my throat," he said haltingly, "that makes it hard for me to speak."
She smiled and snuggled closer to him."God has been good to us, Tarzan of the Apes," she said.
For some time neither spoke.It was enough that they were reunited and that each knew that the other was alive and safe.
But at last they found their voices and when the sun rose they were still talking, so much had each to tell the other; so many questions there were to be asked and answered.
"And Jack," she asked, "where is he?"
"I do not know," replied Tarzan."The last I heard of him he was on the Argonne Front."
"Ah, then our happiness is not quite complete," she said, a little note of sadness creeping into her voice.
"No," he replied, "but the same is true in countless other English homes today, and pride is learning to take the place of happiness in these."
She shook her head, "I want my boy," she said.
