THE TARZAN COLLECTION (8 Books in One Edition). Edgar Rice Burroughs

your stubborn willfulness we should have escaped a series of most humiliating, not to say dangerous accidents. Pray allow yourself to be guided by a more mature and practical mind hereafter when in need of wise counsel.”

      Mr. Samuel T. Philander was too much relieved at the happy outcome to their adventure to take umbrage at the professor’s cruel fling. Instead he grasped his friend’s arm and hastened him forward in the direction of the cabin.

      It was a much-relieved party of castaways that found itself once more united. Dawn discovered them still recounting their various adventures and speculating upon the identity of the strange guardian and protector they had found on this savage shore.

      Esmeralda was positive that it was none other than an angel of the Lord, sent down especially to watch over them.

      “Had you seen him devour the raw meat of the lion, Esmeralda,” laughed Clayton, “you would have thought him a very material angel.”

      “There was nothing heavenly about his voice,” said Jane Porter, with a little shudder at recollection of the awful roar which had followed the killing of the lioness.

      “Nor did it precisely comport with my preconceived ideas of the dignity of divine messengers,” remarked Professor Porter, “when the—ah—gentleman tied two highly respectable and erudite scholars neck to neck and dragged them through the jungle as though they had been cows.”

      Burials

       Table of Contents

      As it was now quite light, the party, none of whom had eaten or slept since the previous morning, began to bestir themselves to prepare food.

      The mutineers of the Arrow had landed a small supply of dried meats, canned soups and vegetables, crackers, flour, tea, and coffee for the five they had marooned, and these were hurriedly drawn upon to satisfy the craving of long-famished appetites.

      The next task was to make the cabin habitable, and to this end it was decided to at once remove the gruesome relics of the tragedy which had taken place there on some bygone day.

      Professor Porter and Mr. Philander were deeply interested in examining the skeletons. The two larger, they stated, had belonged to a male and female of one of the higher white races.

      The smallest skeleton was given but passing attention, as its location, in the crib, left no doubt as to its having been the infant offspring of this unhappy couple.

      As they were preparing the skeleton of the man for burial, Clayton discovered a massive ring which had evidently encircled the man’s finger at the time of his death, for one of the slender bones of the hand still lay within the golden bauble.

      Picking it up to examine it, Clayton gave a cry of astonishment, for the ring bore the crest of the house of Greystoke.

      At the same time, Jane discovered the books in the cupboard, and on opening the fly-leaf of one of them saw the name, John Clayton, London. In a second book which she hurriedly examined was the single name, Greystoke.

      “Why, Mr. Clayton,” she cried, “what does this mean? Here are the names of some of your own people in these books.”

      “And here,” he replied gravely, “is the great ring of the house of Greystoke which has been lost since my uncle, John Clayton, the former Lord Greystoke, disappeared, presumably lost at sea.”

      “But how do you account for these things being here, in this savage African jungle?” exclaimed the girl.

      “There is but one way to account for it, Miss Porter,” said Clayton. “The late Lord Greystoke was not drowned. He died here in this cabin and this poor thing upon the floor is all that is mortal of him.”

      “Then this must have been Lady Greystoke,” said Jane reverently, indicating the poor mass of bones upon the bed.

      “The beautiful Lady Alice,” replied Clayton, “of whose many virtues and remarkable personal charms I often have heard my mother and father speak. Poor woman,” he murmured sadly.

      With deep reverence and solemnity the bodies of the late Lord and Lady Greystoke were buried beside their little African cabin, and between them was placed the tiny skeleton of the baby of Kala, the ape.

      As Mr. Philander was placing the frail bones of the infant in a bit of sail cloth, he examined the skull minutely. Then he called Professor Porter to his side, and the two argued in low tones for several minutes.

      “Most remarkable, most remarkable,” said Professor Porter.

      “Bless me,” said Mr. Philander, “we must acquaint Mr. Clayton with our discovery at once.”

      “Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!” remonstrated Professor Archimedes Q. Porter. “‘Let the dead past bury its dead.’”

      And so the white-haired old man repeated the burial service over this strange grave, while his four companions stood with bowed and uncovered heads about him.

      From the trees Tarzan of the Apes watched the solemn ceremony; but most of all he watched the sweet face and graceful figure of Jane Porter.

      In his savage, untutored breast new emotions were stirring. He could not fathom them. He wondered why he felt so great an interest in these people—why he had gone to such pains to save the three men. But he did not wonder why he had torn Sabor from the tender flesh of the strange girl.

      Surely the men were stupid and ridiculous and cowardly. Even Manu, the monkey, was more intelligent than they. If these were creatures of his own kind he was doubtful if his past pride in blood was warranted.

      But the girl, ah—that was a different matter. He did not reason here. He knew that she was created to be protected, and that he was created to protect her.

      He wondered why they had dug a great hole in the ground merely to bury dry bones. Surely there was no sense in that; no one wanted to steal dry bones.

      Had there been meat upon them he could have understood, for thus alone might one keep his meat from Dango, the hyena, and the other robbers of the jungle.

      When the grave had been filled with earth the little party turned back toward the cabin, and Esmeralda, still weeping copiously for the two she had never heard of before today, and who had been dead twenty years, chanced to glance toward the harbor. Instantly her tears ceased.

      “Look at them low down white trash out there!” she shrilled, pointing toward the Arrow. “They-all’s a desecrating us, right here on this here perverted island.”

      And, sure enough, the Arrow was being worked toward the open sea, slowly, through the harbor’s entrance.

      “They promised to leave us firearms and ammunition,” said Clayton. “The merciless beasts!”

      “It is the work of that fellow they call Snipes, I am sure,” said Jane. “King was a scoundrel, but he had a little sense of humanity. If they had not killed him I know that he would have seen that we were properly provided for before they left us to our fate.”

      “I regret that they did not visit us before sailing,” said Professor Porter. “I had proposed requesting them to leave the treasure with us, as I shall be a ruined man if that is lost.”

      Jane looked at her father sadly.

      “Never mind, dear,” she said. “It wouldn’t have done any good, because it is solely for the treasure that they killed their officers and landed us upon this awful shore.”

      “Tut, tut, child, tut, tut!” replied Professor Porter. “You are a good child, but inexperienced in practical matters,” and Professor Porter turned and walked slowly away toward the jungle, his hands clasped beneath his long coat tails and his eyes bent upon the ground.

      His daughter watched him with a pathetic smile upon her lips, and then turning