KA-ZAR OF THE BEASTS

CHAPTER VIII
An Arrow Starts a Feud

A

WEEK had passed since David's rescue of Zar and the truce between him and the lion. The sun had been up an hour and David and his father were exploring the swamp-lands in search of straight branches of the acaya tree to be hardened in a slow burning fire into arrows.

Their search had taken them farther from the clearing than usual. David was in the act of indicating a likely tree with an outstretched arm, when suddenly his head snapped back. His nostrils twitched. His sense of smell keen as that of N'Jaga had picked up the pungent odor of smoke.

He knew that their own camp fire had been put out before they had left the lean-to. And even if that had not been the case, they were too far from the clearing for the scent of smoke to reach them.

Tilting back his head he scanned the tops of the trees towering above them.

Rand noted the rapt expression of his face and wonderingly followed the direction of his son's gaze. Keen as his own senses had been attuned to the jungle, they could not rival the youngster's. He, himself, had sensed no warning of danger. The face of the impenetrable jungle appeared the same to him as always--its sights, smells and sounds.

And then simultaneously they both saw it--a thin spiral of smoke that curled above the tree-tops. Young David made a guttural sound in his throat. Rand gripped the butt of his long spear with a fierce grip. He was assailed by a hundred conflicting emotions, none of which he could quite analyze. The sight of that smoke, from a campfire he knew was not his own, stirred dim memories in the back of his clouded brain. He frowned in his concentration as he tried to bring them to light but they eluded his mental grasp.

Then they were gone and Rand was clear eyed once more. The only emotion aroused in him by the sight of that smoke, was one of danger--one of outrage. Someone was encroaching on his kingdom--someone had stumbled perilously close to Constance's grave.

He made a warning signal of silence to the boy--a signal that was not needed--then lowering his spear to the ready, moved forward cautiously. He slipped between the boles of the giant trees without making a sound. And David followed, stepping where he stepped. Not a twig snapped beneath their feet; no leaf stirred at their passing. Zar could not have stalked his quarry more stealthily, more warily.

Long before their eyes could tell them anything, their ears warned them that whatever it was they were approaching, there were four of them. Outside of his father, David had seen no other man for years. The dim remembrance of his soft faced mother was something that came to trouble him only in dreams. The possibility that there were other two-legged creatures like himself, had never occurred to him.

His thumb and forefinger held a long arrow taut against the string of his bow. He was prepared to see N'Guru and his tribe going through their strange rituals; or Chaka and his family of great apes dancing around a jungle drum. But he was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes a few moments later when they came to a slight opening in the trees, made by the gurgling passage of a small stream.

His father held up his hand in warning. They froze, shadows in the shadowy forest. Concealed behind the pendant foliage of a tree they peered into the clearing.

In the center was a small fire that sent a plume of smoke lazily upward. Near it was a strange shelter that resembled somewhat the lean-to in which he and his father lived. But it was not these things that held David's rapt attention. Squatted on his haunches before the fire, stirring something in a pot, was a man--a man like himself or his father--except for the fact that he was black. He was naked, save for a ragged cloth around his middle.

T

wo more blacks were scooping up gravel from the bed of the stream in shallow pans. And standing over them, watching their labor, was still another man. But this one was white--and fat. He had a strange, domed covering on his head; strange wrappings encased his legs. And instead of the skin of the leopard or antelope, his body was covered with tight-fitting wrappings.

David studied these strange men, the first he had any knowledge of ever having seen, with curious attention. His breast seethed with a welter of emotions he could not analyze. His first impulse was to run forward and greet them. But he had been schooled too long in the jungle to act rashly.

True, the men before him seemed harmless. There was not a weapon in slight. The revolver strapped to the white man's belt meant nothing to him. But he had long since learned that even the most harmless appearing animal has defenses and when attacked or surprised can prove dangerous.

With a sign that his son should stay where he was, Rand grasped his spear firmly in his hand and stepped out into the clearing. David watched him go from narrowed eyes and some instinct told him to keep the arrow fitted to the bow.

His father had covered half the distance to the stream before his coming was discovered. The black crouching over the fire looked up, saw the bearded giant striding across the narrow glade, cried out and toppled backward.

At the shrill cry of alarm the white man at the stream whirled, made a lightning movement towards his hip and, watching, David was surprised to see something bright and shiny flash in his hand. He, David, sensed that it was a weapon and the string of his bow became taut.

The two blacks at the stream crouched back; the white man took up a defensive attitude. A thrill of pride coursed through David's veins as he saw that his father never faltered. Looking neither to the right or left Rand made straight for the waiting trio at the water's edge.

Though he could not make out the words, David knew when they began to talk. His father's arm flung out in a wide gesture that embraced the jungle about them, then pointed commandingly to the east.

The fat white man answered. His father spoke again. Then they were both talking at once and from their animated gestures David knew that their words were spoken in anger.

Then, as he watched, the white man snatched one of the pans from the blacks and held it up for Rand's inspection. He talked rapidly, gesticulated wildly.

But John Rand was not impressed. With a sudden movement he dashed the pan to the ground and pointed again to, the east.

No words were necessary to tell David that it was an order to leave. The white stranger listened in sullen silence--then he saw his father turn slowly on his heel and start back towards where he was hidden in the brush. He was proud of his father's arrogance in turning his, back on an enemy; but even more surprised at his carelessness.

He became doubly watchful and a moment later he was thankful that he had. His father had taken but three strides from the stream when the fat stranger slowly raised the shining rod in his hand and pointed it at his back.

S

ome dim memory of the past, when his father had pointed a shining stick at N'Jaga, galvanized David into action. His bow bent deep. The shaft of the arrow nestled against his ear for a fleeting moment, then sped forward.

John Rand was aware of a sudden humming beside his ear, then of a startled, guttural curse behind him. He whirled around. The face of the stranger was contorted in agony. Protruding from his upper right arm an arrow still quivered. His hand hung limp, at his side and blood ran crazily between his fingers. And now those fingers slowly relaxed and opened and a heavy automatic revolver trickled from them to clatter metallically to the ground.

John Rand laughed shortly, swept his arm around at the jungle once more, turned again on his heel and walked back to where his son lay hidden in the brush. But if David had seen the devils of hate leering out of the stranger's eyes, he would have fitted another arrow to his bow. And it would have found the fat white man's throat, instead of his upper arm.

Rand joined his son, expressed his thanks in the silent grip of his hand on David's arm and nodded his head towards the depths of the forest. As silently as they had come they faded into the murky depths.

Rand was more than usually silent that day, as he wrestled with the vague, disturbing thoughts in his brain. No word passed between him and his son concerning the incidents that had occurred that morning. It was not until after their evening meal that he brought up the subject.

For the past hour he had given particular attention to his weapons and now, satisfied that they were ready for any emergency, he spoke.

"This jungle is sacred to your mother, who lies buried here," he said grimly. "Remember that, son. It is ours--and no other man must be allowed to profane it. We shall keep it for ourselves--and for her."

David knew nothing of the faraway King who, according to the laws of the white man, counted their lonely wilderness amongst his possessions. He listened solemnly to his father's words, understood the trust imposed upon him and nodded gravely.

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