KA-ZAR OF THE BEASTS

CHAPTER XVII
Outcast

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A-ZAR had chosen a swift courier. In ones, in twos, in large groups, the animals came to learn the reason for his summons. Keeping well to their own kind, they gathered in the vicinity of the lion's lair, waiting for Ka-Zar to speak.

It was well into the afternoon when the last arrived. N'Jaga, with several of his spotted tribe, stalked out of the forest and warily joined the gathering.

Ka-Zar stood up on the rock and surveyed the motley collection of beasts that inhabited his wilderness domain. Chaka and his great apes still squatted on the lower branches of the trees. Nono and his long-tailed friends scurried about above them. Zar and Sha stood side by side, a regal pair, before the door of their home. Trajah swayed restlessly in his place. Quog and his grunting people moved about, champing their tusks nervously.

N'Jaga and the leopards crouched to one side, their gleaming eyes shifting swiftly at every movement. Even Sinassa the great snake had come. He stretched, coiled about a strong limb, and watched the gathering from unblinking, beady little eyes. And far overhead Kru the vulture, thinking that this meeting of the bigger jungle animals would provide him with such a feast as he had never seen, wheeled around on motionless wings.

All eyes turned to focus on the figure of Ka-Zar, dominating and arrogant, astride the rock. A hush fell upon them and flinging back his regal head, he shattered the silence with the mighty roar of the lion. Respectfully they listened as it echoed and re-echoed through the leafy fastness. Only N'Jaga's tail twitched and his lips pulled back a trifle from his teeth.

His face dark with passion, Ka-Zar launched into his speech.

"Jungle brothers," he began, "Ka-Zar, brother of Zar the mighty, called you here. Trouble has come to our home, great trouble. Oman have come again to molest us--to hurt us--to kill us."

He flung his arms out in a sweeping gesture. "The Oman are evil. Unlike us, they slay for no reason. Chaka will tell you that two of his tribe died before their terrible fire-sticks. Other beasts have perished, also. This very afternoon I saw Quag, brother of Quog, die because he had foolishly blundered into their clearing."

He turned his head to stare for a long moment in the direction of the distant camp, his jaw set at a grim angle and his eyes boding no good to the marauders who had come to violate the sanctity of his wilderness.

He turned again to his strange audience. "I, Ka-Zar, brother of Zar, shall drive them out. But now I give you all warning. Nothing can stand before the fire-sticks of the Oman and live. Let all the animals keep well away from the clearing. Let no more lives be needlessly taken. When the time comes, I will summon you and together we will have our vengeance."

He folded his arms and looked about the gathering of beasts. At once they set up a subdued muttering, growling, chattering and grunting among themselves.

N'Jaga rose to his feet, fell into a crouch. He snarled. "Ka-Zar is no lion," he growled. "Ka-Zar is of the Oman. N'Jaga does not trust him."

The beasts listened to his words, then fell to a more excited chattering. Ka-Zar knew that N'Jaga had voiced the suspicion that already lurked in the minds of Chaka and his apes. He could see that Chaka was swayed by N'Jaga's words. Glancing about the assemblage, he saw quickly that the seeds of mistrust had fallen upon fertile ground. The other beasts wavered, but already N'Jaga had gained an advantage.

The cunning leopard knew, and pressed it. "We have claws and fangs," he spat. "Why do we permit ourselves to be slain by these weak, hairless creatures--the Oman? Let us kill this one and then go to slay the others."

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ono and his friends chattered shrilly up in the branches. Chaka dropped to the ground and with his tribe at his heels, lumbered forward. His threatening attitude decided the rest. Ranging themselves around N'Jaga and his snarling cousins, they flung their defiance at the man-cub.

Ka-Zar knew that his life hung in the balance. His knife, his bow and arrows, his deadly spear could not help him now. Alone, in single combat with any denizen of the jungle, they would give him a fighting chance. But let all these beasts charge him at once and he was doomed.

Yet arrogantly, boldly, he stepped down from the rock and strode up to confront them. Without a moment's hesitation, Zar and Sha ranged up at his side and Zar's deep-throated challenge rumbled from his mighty throat. Then Trajah the elephant moved majestically forward and took up a position on his other side. With a blasting trumpet, he defied any creature to approach them.

The hatred for this two-legged creature that N'Jaga had nursed so long in his breast, urged him to spring. But the sight of Ka-Zar's powerful allies stayed him. For a long moment he crouched, tail lashing, and the terrible slaughter for which Kru waited on motionless wings, hung on his decision. A pregnant silence held them all.

Then suddenly N'Jaga spat, wheeled around and quickly disappeared into the jungle.

The other beasts had worked themselves up to a pitch of emotion that robbed them of all independent thought. N'Jaga's flight set them an example. And with squeals, grunts, growls of frustrated rage, they scattered and were swallowed up by the forest. Only Nono and the monkeys remained, to hurl gibes after the departing beasts from the safety of their branches high in the trees.

Ka-Zar was left alone with his friends and with the bitter realization that he Was held an outcast--a traitor--by his own people. Slowly he turned and walked soberly back to the cave. Flinging himself down before the entrance, he returned again to his problem, now doubly important and doubly difficult.

He could count only on the lions, on Trajah and the monkeys for any assistance. All the other beasts, even if they did not dare to attack him, would wait in judgment. To regain his supremacy over them and to bring peace once more to his land, he must settle the matter of DeKraft once and for all.

The task would not be an easy one, he knew. Against the white man's weapons he was powerless. And though he lay for a long time, his head pillowed in the crook of his arm, inspiration would not come.

At length he rose. The sun was descending the downward curve of its arc. The shadows of the trees grew longer. Trajah was resting from his long journey. Sha had returned to her cubs and Zar was off on the spoor of a kill. Nono's cousins had dispersed, but the little monkey came and climbed up to his favorite place on Ka-Zar's broad shoulder.

On the long hope that another visit to DeKraft's camp might bring him the inspiration he so sorely needed, Ka-Zar set off in that direction again. And soon, from the big tree, he and Nono were once more looking down upon the activities of the men.

Most of the blacks were still busy at their labors in the stream. Three hovered about the fire, getting ready the evening meal. The two white men--Fat-Face and the owner of the burnished copper hair--were seated at the far side of the clearing, watching the natives work and conversing in low tones.

One of the blacks at the stream walked over toward them, bearing a pan that held several pebbles. Both white men reached for it together, exchanged a veiled glance--then the red-haired one allowed DeKraft to take it. Together they bent their heads over the pan as the native returned to his work.

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a-Zar could hear their voices, but he could not make out their words. Gliding like a shadow down the tree, he circled about the clearing and then stole softly towards where they were sitting. Not a leaf stirred at his passing; not a twig crackled under his feet. A scant few yards behind them, so flat against the bole of a tree that he seemed to become part of it, he listened. Their conversation was carried on in the language of his dead father and he had no difficulty following their words.

"Emeralds," DeKraft's voice came floating back to him. "A bloody fortune. And these crazy niggers damn near kept us from getting them."

The other joined him in a laugh. "What do you suppose," he asked, "was behind their yarn about an angry jungle god? Something must have put the wind up them, once."

DeKraft snorted. "Bah! You ain't seen no jungle god yet, have you? And what if you did? I never saw a god go up against a high-powered rifle. Hah, hah!" He slapped his knee and roared. "In the city or in the jungle, I never yet seen anything that a bullet wouldn't finish."

"You said it," agreed the red-headed one. "Well, if no jungle god shows up, these niggers will soon forget they were afraid." He rose, stretched. "Come on, Dutch. Laballa's got chow ready."

DeKraft climbed to his feet and they strolled over towards the fire.

Ka-Zar relaxed a trifle and his eyes were very thoughtful. The conversation of the men had been very slangy and several of the words were unfamiliar to him. City, for instance. And god. Niggers, he gathered, meant the blacks.

So the blacks were afraid of something, eh? And because of that fear, they had almost prevented Fat-Face and the other from coming into the jungle. Perhaps, then, they might be able to make the white ones leave the jungle. That is, if their fear became great enough.

A little half-smile twitched the corners of Ka-Zar's lips. He would see what he could do about that little matter.

Patiently he watched and waited for his opportunity. Laballa tended to the wants of the white leaders. The natives at the stream ceased their labors and gathered about their own food kettles, a respectful distance away.

Laballa fed the fire from a diminishing heap of brush. DeKraft called out a guttural command and in response, one of the blacks left off eating. He and Laballa picked up their spears and long knives and headed into the jungle.

The sun was setting and already mauve shadows darkened the floor of the forest. Ka-Zar knew that the two blacks had been sent for wood and it was obvious that they did not relish the prospect.

Instantly he took to the trees and swinging agilely from branch to branch, moved off to follow them. Nono leaped agilely before him and soon they came to where the natives had stopped. One slashed at low boughs and dry, dead brush, anxious to finish their task. The other stood, spear clutched in one hand and long knife in the other, and peered into the gloomy forest about them.

Neither looked up into the trees that towered high above them, but if they had, they would have seen nothing. In the dim half-light, the naked bronzed form of Ka-Zar had melted into one with the shadowy leaves and branches.

Ka-Zar waited until a moment when only the dull thud of the knife sounded in the stillness. Then with all the might that he could summon, he bellowed forth the deep bass roar of the lion.

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or a moment the cry echoed through the still air and below him the two natives stood immobile as ebony statues, literally paralyzed with fear. Then suddenly the invisible bonds that held them, snapped. Shrieking in terror, they raced pell mell for the camp.

Fear lent wings to their feet and though Ka-Zar swung swiftly in their wake, by the time he reached his vantage point they had already poured out their breathless story.

The two white men were on their feet. There was a black scowl on DeKraft's swarthy face. The other natives huddled about their terror-stricken companions, their hands clapped to their mouths.

Unfortunately, most of the ensuing hubbub of conversation was carried on in the tongue of the blacks, which Ka-Zar did not understand. But the gestures of the men made a lot of it clear to him.

DeKraft stretched forth his arm and pointed imperiously toward the forest from whence the pair had so suddenly returned. A volley of commands crackled from his lips and Ka-Zar knew that he was ordering them to return for the wood.

But the two natives shook their heads and did not budge. Their eyes rolled, their arms waved, they chattered back at him.

DeKraft's face turned slowly to a choleric purple. Forgetting himself in his rage, he bellowed at them in English.

"Sure, I know damn well there's lions around here. But don't try to tell me about one being way up in the top of a tree. Why--you cowardly, lying..."

He stepped forward, his fist lashed out with the lightning speed of N'Jaga's spring. There was a dull smack as it struck the jaw of Laballa and sent him toppling over backward into the arms of his companions.

Snatching a gun from his hip, DeKraft faced the blacks, moving its muzzle in a slow, fan-like arc. Muttering, they fell back. But though he again pointed imperiously at the jungle, backing up the order with a significant gesture of the gun, not one of the natives stirred.

Ka-Zar, well satisfied with his work, left DeKraft still trying with threats and curses to drive out the fear that was in the hearts of his men. He, himself, had had no rest since Zar had come to find him. Now, confident that a few hours sleep would revive both his tired body and his weary mind, he headed back toward the cave.

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