Tarzan of the Apes, ranging westward, came upon the spoor of Fahd and Stimbol and Guinakla and followed it toward the south.
Northward marched a hundred ebon giants, veterans of a hundred battles—the famed Waziri—and with them came Zeyd, the lover of Ateja. One day they came upon a fresh spoor crossing their line of march diagonally toward the southwest. It was the spoor of Arab sandals, those of two men and a woman, and when the Waziri pointed them out to Zeyd the young Beduin swore that he recognized those of the woman as belonging to Ateja, for who knew better the shape and size of her little foot, or the style of the sandals she fabricated? He begged the Waziri to turn aside for a time and aid him in finding his sweetheart, and while the sub-chief was debating the question in his mind the sound of something hurrying through the jungle attracted the attention of every ear.
While they listened a man staggered into view. It was Fahd. Zeyd recognized him instantly and as immediately became doubly positive that the footprints of the woman had been made by Ateja.
Zeyd approached Fahd menacingly. “Where is Ateja?” he demanded.
“How should I know? I have not seen her for days,” replied Fahd, truthfully enough.
“Thou liest!” cried Zeyd, and pointed at the ground. “Here are her own footprints beside thine!”
A cunning expression came into the eyes of Fahd. Here he saw an opportunity to cause suffering to the man he hated. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Wellah, if you know, you know,” he said. “Where is she?” demanded Zeyd.
“She is dead. I would have spared you,” answered Fahd. “Dead?” The suffering in that single word should have melted a heart of stone—but not Fahd’s.
“I stole her from her father’s beyt,” continued Fahd, wishing to inflict as much torture as possible upon his rival. “For days and nights she was mine; then a huge ape stole her from me. By now she must be dead.”
But Fahd had gone to far. He had encompassed his own undoing. With a scream of rage Zeyd leaped upon him with drawn khusa, and before the Waziri could interfere or Fahd defend himself the keen blade had drunk thrice in the heart of the lying Beduin.
With bent head and dull eyes Zeyd marched on northward with the Waziri, as, a mile behind them, a wasted old man, burning with fever, stumbled in the trail and fell. Twice he tried to regain his feet, only to sink weakly back to earth. A filthy, ragged bundle of old bones, he lay—sometimes raving in delirium, sometimes so still that he seemed dead.
Down from the north came Tarzan of the Apes upon the spoor of Guinalda and the two who had accompanied her. Knowing well the windings of the trail he took short cuts, swinging through the branches of the trees, and so it happened that he missed the Waziri at the point where their trail had encountered that of Fahd, where Zeyd had slain his rival, and presently his nostrils picked up the scent of the Mangani in the distance.
Toward the great apes he made his way swiftly for he feared that harm might befall the girl should she, by any mischance, fall into the hands of the anthropoids. He arrived in the clearing where they lazed, a short time after the return of Toyat and Go-yad, who, by now, had abandoned their quarrel, since the prize had been taken by one stronger than either of them.
The preliminaries of meeting over and the apes having recognized and acknowledged Tarzan, he demanded if any had seen the Tarmangani she who had recently passed through the jungle.
M’walat pointed at Toyat and Tarzan turned toward the King.
“You have seen the she?” demanded Tarzan, fearful, for he did not like the manner of the king ape.
Toyat jerked a thumb toward the south. “Numa,” he said and went on hunting for food, but Tarzan knew what the ape meant as surely as though he had spoken a hundred words of explanation.
“Where?” asked Tarzan.
Toyat pointed straight to where he had abandoned Guinaldat to the lion, and the ape-man, moving straight through the jungle along the line indicated by the king ape, went sadly to investigate, although he already guessed what he would find. At least he could drive Numa from his kill and give decent burial to the unfortunate girl.
Slowly consciousness returned to Guinalda. She did not open her eyes, but lay very quiet wondering if this was death. She felt no pain.
Presently a sickly sweet and pungent odor assailed her nostrils and something moved very close to her, so close that she felt it against her body, pressing gently, and where it pressed she felt heat as from another body.
Fearfully she opened her eyes and the horror of her predicament again swept over her for she saw that the lion had lain down almost against her. His back was toward her, his noble head was lifted, his black mane almost brushed her face. He was looking off, intently, toward the north.
Guinalda lay very quiet. Presently she felt, rather than heard, a low rumbling growl that seemed to have its origin deep in the cavernous chest of the carnivore.
Something was coming! Even Guinalda sensed that, but it could not be succor, for what could succor her from this hideous beast?
There was a rustling among the branches of the trees a hundred feet away and suddenly the giant figure of a demigod dropped to the ground. The lion rose and faced the man. The two stood thus, eyeing one another for a brief moment. Then the man spoke.
“Jad-bal-ja!” he exclaimed, and then: “Come to heel!”
The great, golden lion whined and strode across the open space, stopping before the man. Guinalda saw the beast look up into the face of the demigod and saw the latter stroke the tawny head affectionately, but meanwhile the eyes of the man, or god, or whatever he was, were upon Guinalda and she saw the sudden relief that came to them as Tarzan realized that the girl was unharmed.
Leaving the lion the ape-man crossed to where the princess lay and knelt beside her.
“You are the Princess Guinalda?” he asked.
The girl nodded, wondering how he knew her. As yet she was too stunned to command her own voice.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Do not be afraid,” he assured her in a gentle voice. “I am your friend. You are safe now.”
There was something in the way he said it that filled Guinalda with such a sense of safety as all the mailed knights of her father’s realm had scarce imparted.
“I am not afraid—any more,” she said simply.
“Where are your companions?” he asked.
She told him all that had happened.
“You are well rid of them,” said the ape-man, “and we shall not attempt to find them. The jungle will account for them in its own way and in its own good time.”
“Who art thou?” asked the girl.
“I am Tarzan.”
“How didst thou know, my name?” she queried.
“I am a friend of one whom you know as Sir James,” he explained. “He and I were searching for you.”
“Thou art his friend?” she cried. “Oh, sweet sir, then thou art mine as well!”
The ape-man smiled. “Always!” he said.
“Why did the lion not kill thee, Sir Tarzan?” she demanded, thinking him a simple knight, for in her land there were only these beside the members of her princely house and the pseudo king of the City of the Sepulcher. For in the original company that had been wrecked upon the coast of Africa at the time of the Third Crusade there were only knights, except one bastard son of Henry II, who had been the original Prince Gobred. Never having been in contact with an English king since they parted from Richard at Cyprus Gobred had assumed the right to issue patents of nobility to his followers, solely the prerogative of the king.
“Why did the lion not kill me?” repeated Tarzan. “Because he is Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion, which I raised from cub-hood. All his life he has known me only as friend and master. He would not harm me and it was because of his lifelong association with human beings that he did not harm you; though I was fearful when I saw him beside you that he had—a lion is always a lion!”
“Thou dwellest nearby?” asked the girL
“Far away,” said Tarzan, “But there must be some of my people nearby, else Jad-bal-ja would not be here. I sent for my warriors and doubtless he has accompanied them.”
Finding that the girl was hungry Tarzan bade the Golden Lion remain and guard her while he went in search of food.
“Do not fear him,” he told her, “and remember that you could not have a protector more competent than he to discourage the approach of enemies.”
“And well mayst I believe it,” admitted Guinalda.
Tarzan returned with food and then, as the day was not done, he started back toward Nimmr with the rescued girl, carrying her, as she was now too weak to walk; and beside them strode the great, black-maned lion of gold.
During that journey Tarzan learned much of Nimmr and also discovered that Blake’s love for his princess was apparently fully reciprocated by the girl, for she seemed never so content as when talking about her Sir James and asking questions concerning his far country and his past life, of which, unfortunately, Tarzan could tell her nothing.
Upon the second day the three came to the great cross and here Turzan hailed the warders and bade them come and take their princess.
She urged the ape-man to accompany her to the castle and receive the thanks of her father and mother, but he told her that he must leave at once to search for Blake, and at that she ceased her urging.
“An’ thou findst him,” she said, “tell him that the gates of Nimmr be always open to him and that the Princess Guinalda awaits his return.”
Down from the Cross went Tarzan and Jad-bal-ja and before she turned back to enter the tunnel that led to her father’s castle the Princess Guinalda stood watching them until a turn in the trail hid them from her view.
“May Our Lord Jesus bless thee, sweet sir knight,” she murmured, “and watch o’er thee and fetch thee back once more with my beloved!”