Then came a sad blow. A runner arrived bringing a cablegram to Orman. It was from the studio; and it ordered him to return at once to Hollywood, bringing the company and equipment with him.
Every one except Orman was delighted. “Hollywood!” exclaimed Naomi Madison: “Oh, Stanley, just think of it! Aren’t you crazy to get to Hollywood?”
“Perhaps that’s the right word,” he mused.
The company danced and sang like children watching the school house burn, and Tarzan watched them and wondered. He wondered what this Hollywood was like that it held such an appeal to these men and women. He thought that some day he might go and see for himself.
Over broken trails the return journey was made with ease and speed. Tarzan accompanied the safari through the Bansuto country, assuring them that they would have no trouble. “I arranged that with Rungula before I left his village,” he explained.
Then he left them, saying that he was going on ahead to Jinja. He hastened to the village of Mpugu, where he had left Obroski. Mpugu met him with a long face. “White bwana die seven days ago,” announced the chief. “We take his body to Jinja so that the white men know that we did not kill him.”
Tarzan whistled. It was too bad, but there was nothing to do about it. He had done the best that he could for Obroski.
Two days later the lord of the jungle and Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion, stood on a low eminence and watched the long caravan of tucks wind toward Jinja.
In command of the rear guard walked Pat O’Grady. At his side was Balza. Each had an arm about the other, and Balza puffed on a cigarette.