KA-ZAR OF THE BEASTS

CHAPTER XXI
Ka-Zar the Mighty

K

A-ZAR had only one regret in the knowledge that the Oman had fled the jungle. Bitterly he realized that he had failed to slay Fat-Face. And though peace lay once more over the land, there was none in his heart.

The rising sun found him, with Nono swinging gaily along over his head, approaching DeKraft's deserted camp. There were several things that drew him there. He coveted the shining spears, far finer than his own, and the long knives that the natives had used. He hoped that they had left some in their haste. And if by any chance some of the fire-sticks were still there, he meant to destroy them before they could do any more harm. Nono, or one of Chaka's apes, might find them and curiosity might well prove fatal. Ka-Zar wanted no more tragedy among his people.

While Nono squatted in a tree at the edge of the clearing, he strode into the silent camp. It was evident that its occupants had left in haste. Kettles were overturned. The pans with which the blacks had been busy at the stream, lay strewn on the bank. Only ashes remained of the fires.

Before one of the tents lay a crumpled blanket, with a varied assortment of objects lying upon and about it. Evidently some one had snatched up things at random, gathered them into the blanket to carry them off and when they spilled out, fled without stopping to collect them again. Ka-Zar stooped down to see what they were.

A damp, strong wind blew in from the lake, carrying with it the scent of distant flowers and the sweetish odor of rushes. Otherwise Ka-Zar's keen nostrils would have noticed that the smell of man, always unpleasant to him, still lingered strongly in the vicinity.

When his panic-stricken blacks had left, Paul DeKraft had been possessed by the blackest rage he had ever known. Once more he had a fortune within his grasp--once more his dreams of riches were shattered. First the crazy hermit, now the hermit's even crazier son.

DeKraft's warped soul and evil mind could not stand this second blow. A madness seized him--not the flaring outburst of fury that had made him fire at the blacks, but a scheming, smouldering hate. Like Ka-Zar, he also would know no peace until he had his vengeance.

So all through the long night he had lain hidden in the brush on the fringe of the clearing, a rifle clutched in his hand. Little red devils of hate had glinted in his eyes when he saw the tall figure of Ka-Zar stride into the glade. Lovingly his hands caressed the shining barrel of the gun, but he waited until the advantage was all his own.

When Ka-Zar stooped down over the contents of the blanket, he crept silently forth from his cover. Rising to his feet, he lifted the rifle and with a wolfish grin showing yellow teeth through his beard, aimed its muzzle at the broad bronze back squarely before him.

Up in the tree, Nono did not see him. He was playing with something, utterly absorbed. He turned it this way and that, watching the sun leap from it in arrows of light.

And then, just as DeKraft's finger was squeezing the trigger, one of the blinding arrows of light flashed full into his eyes. The gun went off with a reverberating crash and the bullet sprayed leaves from a nearby tree.

Nono screamed and clutched the mirror he had been playing with. Ka-Zar whirled as he leaped to his feet.

Not twenty feet from him stood Fat-Face. In his pudgy hands was clutched the smoking rifle. His eyes were squeezed shut, as though a needle of flame had scorched them. And as he opened them again, Ka-Zar sprang like a great cat.

DeKraft was knocked flat on his back by Ka-Zar's charge. Before he could regain his breath, fingers of steel dug deep into his throat. The rifle was wrenched from his hand--and he was helpless.

T

here was no mercy in the tawny eyes that gleamed down at him. If there had been, DeKraft could not have uttered the words to beg it. He was hauled roughly to his feet, shaken until his eyes popped out.

"Your fire-stick failed you," growled Ka-Zar, transferring his grip to the back of DeKraft's thick neck. "You were meant to die by my hand."

DeKraft gulped in great, hungry mouthfuls of air and gradually his face lost its purple color. "Something blinded me," he panted, "or I would have got you."

Ka-Zar looked puzzled for a moment. Up in the tree Nono, now wildly excited, danced and chattered in the branches. Glancing up, Ka-Zar saw his most prized possession, the mirror, clutched in the monkey's hand.

"Nono," he called sharply. "Mischievous one, you have stolen Ka-Zar's shining-stone."

Nono hung his head. "When Nono went last night to the cave for Ka-Zar's knife," he admitted sullenly. Reluctantly he dropped down from the tree to Ka-Zar's back and returned the mirror.

DeKraft scowled. "That's what did it--that's what blinded me. The mirror. I'd like to get my hands around that monk's silly neck for a minute."

Ka-Zar looked at the bit of shining glass that had saved his life. Then carefully he tucked it into his belt.

Disdainfully he surveyed his captive's bulging paunch and flabby body. He took his hand from DeKraft's neck.

"I could kill you with my bare hands," he said scornfully. "Try to escape me and I will."

Into DeKraft's scheming mind stole a new hope. One look at the magnificent body of the bronze giant told him that he had meant what he said. Though no bonds held him, DeKraft knew better than to make a break just then. But the mere fact that he was not already dead, meant that he might yet get a chance to turn the tables on this naked savage. The little red flames danced in his eyes again and he half-closed his lids to hide them.

Ka-Zar picked up the rifle from where he had thrown it, grasped it by the barrel and quickly smashed it against a rock.

It broke like a matchstick and DeKraft, watching, felt his confidence evaporate a trifle as he realized the strength of those powerful arms.

Ka-Zar turned to Nono and in the language of the jungle, issued a command. "Tell all the beasts that Ka-Zar has captured the leader of the Oman. Tell them to come at once to Zar's cave."

The little monkey jumped up and down, then scampered off into the forest. And Ka-Zar started Fat-Face on his journey toward his final judgment.

"Trained monkey, eh?" said DeKraft, as they stumbled along. "Kivlin-poor Kivlin," he amended with a wry grin, "told me you talked to the animals, but I didn't really believe him until I saw it myself."

"The animals are my people," answered Ka-Zar. "Of course I talk to them."

"Where are you taking me?" asked DeKraft.

"To the cave of my brother Zar, the lion."

To Ka-Zar the answer was a simple one. To DeKraft, it came like a thunderbolt. He stopped in midstride. The crafty gleam in his eyes was wiped out by a dreadful fear. His swarthy face turned a sickly saffron.

"A lion!" he croaked. "You are mad! He'll kill us both!"

K

a-Zar surveyed his fat, trembling form with scorn. "Zar is my brother. He will not kill you, unless I tell him to."

If DeKraft had known what was in store for him, the last thread of his sanity would have snapped then and there. As it was, he felt his senses reeling. With his last coherent thought he tried desperately to reason with this crazy giant.

Pawing at the front of his shirt, he pulled out a small pouch, opened it with trembling fingers and spilled a handful of great pebbles out onto his palm. For the first time in his life, his fear was so much greater than his greed that he was willing to share his fortune.

He thrust his shaking hand toward Ka-Zar. "Look," he said hoarsely. "Emeralds--a bloody fortune in emeralds. We can be rich--you crazy fool! Help me pan them from the stream and then we'll clear out together--leave this damn wilderness forever."

It was DeKraft's trump card--his last ace-in-the-hole. He had never yet seen the man who would not do anything for riches.

Ka-Zar gazed down at the pebbles that had brought so much misfortune to him and his people. His amber eyes glowed. Then with a low growl, he struck at DeKraft's hand and sent the accursed stones scattering to the ground.

B

y the time they approached the cave, Fat-Face was reduced to a muttering, shambling wreck. He had never learned to control his emotions. Now they swept over him in successive waves, exhausting him mentally and physically. Rage--for the precious emeralds that he had gathered were gone, scattered on the jungle floor. Greed--for the stream still babbled over countless others, just waiting to be looted. Fear--for if this madman did not slay him, the waiting lion would.

By the time he reached the cave and saw not only the lion but a towering elephant move toward him, he could only gaze back at them in numb horror.

Dazedly he heard his strange captor hold a guttural, growling conversation with the two beasts. Then stumbling, in silence, he allowed Ka-Zar to lead him up onto the big boulder. Weakly he sank onto the rock, while the bronze giant stood straddle-legged over him.

In answer to Nono's startling news, the animals came swiftly to the meeting place. Ka-Zar warned Fat-Face not to move or speak. But the warning was unnecessary. DeKraft could not have stirred or uttered a word. His quivering bulk shrank perceptibly each time a beast emerged from the forest. All greeted the sight of hated Om with bellows or snarls of rage. All would have leaped upon him, save for Ka-Zar's repeated warning.

They milled restlessly about while others continued to drift in from the jungle. And if DeKraft had entertained any hope that he might escape from the bronze madman, the last vestige of it was gone now. He was completely hemmed in by savage beasts, who looked at him hungrily from gleaming eyes and licked their chops. Ugly apes, snarling leopards, grunting pigs, a watchful elephant, a monstrous snake, mighty lions--one move, and he would be torn to pieces.

At last Ka-Zar addressed the gathering and the snarls and growls died to a murmur. Flinging back his head he stood, a magnificent and imposing figure, towering above the huddled form of the white man.

"N'Jaga has told you," he began, casting a glance at the leopard who crouched sullenly at the fringe of the gathering, "that the Oman are my brothers. You believed. Now their leader is my captive." He looked down at Fat-Face and the murmur swelled for a moment to a concerted roar of rage.

"This Om," continued Ka-Zar, "has taken the lives of many of our jungle people. He must pay for them with his own."

A chorus of approval greeted these words and there was a note of eagerness in it that penetrated DeKraft's consciousness and made him shudder.

"But before this is done," Ka-Zar continued his guttural speech, "we have something to decide among us. N'Jaga has given me a challenge. I will answer it."

He turned to Nono. "Go into the cave. Bring me a knife."

The monkey scampered into the den. While he was gone, the animals chattered excitedly among themselves. They turned to stare curiously when Nono reappeared a moment later, carrying a shining knife which he handed to Ka-Zar.

A hush fell upon the gathering. They had seen that knife bite deep into a kill and they had a great respect for it.

Ka-Zar prodded Fat-Face none too gently with his foot. "Get up," he commanded in English.

Obediently DeKraft crawled to his feet. He was a pathetic figure now. All his bravado was gone. His beard was draggled, his swarthy face beaded with sweat. And his eyes were empty of all but black despair.

F

or a moment he stared at the knife. His eyes widened as Ka-Zar silently held it towards him, haft first. Unbelieving, like one in a trance, he reached out and took it. Dazedly he turned it over and over in his fingers.

Ka-Zar turned back to face the expectant beasts. "Without their weapons the Oman are defenseless. But now this Om is armed. Who among you, will face him in single combat?"

The beasts muttered amongst themselves but none spoke up. Ka-Zar waited until it was evident that no one dared to face the Om with his knife. Then he strode up to confront the surly N'Jaga.

"You talked boldly of slaying," he said. "Here is your chance. Kill this Om now and we will all acknowledge you lord of the jungle."

But N'Jaga, spitting and snarling, only bared his teeth and glared his hatred.

"Come," insisted Ka-Zar. "Whichever one of us slays this Om--he shall be king of the wilderness. Do you agree?"

Eagerly the assemblage assented. N'Jaga, too, reluctantly agreed for his fear was greater than his hate. He, himself, refused to accept the challenge.

"Let Ka-Zar kill," he growled. "If he does, I acknowledge him my master."

That was all Ka-Zar wanted. He turned to Fat-Face. "Come down," he called in English. "We shall fight, without knives. No beast will interfere. You shall have your chance to kill me."

DeKraft hesitated a moment, then as the animals fell back, leaving a cleared space in their midst, he stepped warily down from the rock. He saw Ka-Zar take a crude but deadly knife from his belt, similar to the one he clutched in his hand.

A last vestige of that indefinable something which puts man in a class apart from the beasts, returned to him. He realized that this was to be a fight to the death and that even if he won, his own life was surely forfeit. But here was an opportunity to kill the madman who had shattered all his dreams of untold wealth. And already resigned to his own fate, he determined that the bronze giant would die with him.

The old light of cunning crept back into his eyes. Clutching the knife, he edged warily forward, circling for an opening.

A hush fell upon the jungle, a hush so profound that even the sighing wind did not stir the leaves. It was a weird, unreal scene. A spectacle as terrible as any ever staged in the old Roman arena. Only here the situation was fantastically reversed. The galleries of the natural amphitheatre were filled with silent, watching beasts. And before them, settling an old score with deadly steel, two men faced each other.

Fat-Face darted suddenly in and his gleaming blade licked hungrily out at the apex of Zar's mighty ribs. But even as its point drew crimson, a bronze hand closed about DeKraft's wrist. His bulky figure was spun violently about, jerked back and clasped against a broad chest. Ka-Zar's right hand described a short, glinting arc through the air. Then it struck downward and his knife buried itself to the hilt in the quivering flesh at the base of DeKraft's throat.

The blade emerged again, dripping fluid scarlet. Ka-Zar stepped back, releasing his hold.

DeKraft died on his feet. His knees buckled and his flabby body crumpled to the ground.

The leaves of the surrounding trees shivered and rustled softly, as though disturbed by the passing of his departing spirit. Then Ka-Zar placed one foot on the body of his slain enemy and tossing back his regal head, roared forth the mighty cry of the lion's kill.

S

till holding the gory blade, Ka-Zar strode over to N'Jaga. "You saw?" he demanded.

"I saw," growled N'Jaga.

"I am your master?" asked Ka-Zar arrogantly.

N'Jaga wriggled uncomfortably; his slitted eyes glowed. "Ka-Zar is my master," he acknowledged sullenly.

He rose and with such dignity as he could summon, stalked off into the forest. Silently his cousins followed.

Satisfied, Ka-Zar walked slowly to where Zar stood before the mouth of the cave. Standing by the side of the lion he turned and confronted the animals once more.

"Ka-Zar boasted before," he said clearly. "Zar still rules the jungle. And Ka-Zar is proud to be his brother. Let no one distrust me again. I am mighty, but I am just. Go your ways in peace."

A chorus of acclamation greeted his speech. Then scattering, the animals went off to resume the life that the coming of the Oman had so briefly but violently interrupted. Ka-Zar was left with his friends and the body of his slain enemy.

Overhead Kru the vulture spiraled slowly down from a sky of clearest azure. A troop of birds gleamed for an instant like a living rainbow as they crossed the path of the sun. And peace settled down once more over the jungle--for a while, at least.

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