By Edgar Rice Burroughs
Chapter 21
| As the little expedition of
sailors toiled through the dense jungle searching for signs of Jane
Porter, the futility of their venture became more and more apparent,
but the grief of the old man and the hopeless eyes of the young
Englishman prevented the kind hearted D'Arnot from turning back. He thought that there might be a bare possibility of finding her body, or the remains of it, for he was positive that she had been devoured by some beast of prey. He deployed his men into a skirmish line from the point where Esmeralda had been found, and in this extended formation they pushed their way, sweating and panting, through the tangled vines and creepers. It was slow work. Noon found them but a few miles inland. They halted for a brief rest then, and after pushing on for a short distance further one of the men discovered a well-marked trail. |
Explore These Folders
Getting the best of Insurance |
Let us help you catch all the insurance protection
you need for the money you are spending. Compare
what you have to pay now with the family-friendly
values we find. See if the savings don't average 46%
better than what you expect on ALL Your Insurance
Needs for:
|
It was an old elephant track, and
D'Arnot after consulting with Professor Porter and Clayton decided to follow
it. The path wound through the jungle in a northeasterly direction, and along it the column moved in single file. Lieutenant D'Arnot was in the lead and moving at a quick pace, for the trail was comparatively open. Immediately behind him came Professor Porter, but as he could not keep pace with the younger man D'Arnot was a hundred yards in advance when suddenly a half dozen black warriors arose about him.
D'Arnot gave a warning shout to his column as the
blacks closed on him, but before he could draw his revolver he had been
pinioned and dragged into the jungle. Queer African knives and French gun butts mingled
for a moment in savage and bloody duels, but soon the natives fled into the
jungle, leaving the Frenchmen to count their losses. |
Frankenstein, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Wollestonecraft (Godwin) Shelley Boots and Saddles, the legend of General Custer. The Invisible Man, by H. G. Wells My Life on the Plains, by General George A. Custer David Crockett a man known to millions in his own lifetime. Call of the Wild the immortal classic by Jack London Wuthering Heights the original and still best gothic. The Seventh Man, by Max Brand. Bull Hunter by Max Brand The Virginian by Owen Wister The Life and Adventures of Calamity Jane, by Herself At The Earth's Core, by Edgar Rice Burroughs Riders of the Purple Sage, by Zane Grey A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens |
| There was but one thing to do,
make camp where they were until daylight. Lieutenant Charpentier
ordered a clearing made and a circular abatis of underbrush
constructed about the camp. This work was not completed until long after dark, the men building a huge fire in the center of the clearing to give them light to work by. When all was safe as possible against attack of wild beasts and savage men, Lieutenant Charpentier placed sentries about the little camp and the tired and hungry men threw themselves upon the ground to sleep. The groans of the wounded, mingled with the roaring and growling of the great beasts which the noise and firelight had attracted, kept sleep, except in its most fitful form, from the tired eyes. It was a sad and hungry party that lay through the long night praying for dawn. The blacks who had seized D'Arnot had not waited to participate in the fight which followed, but instead had dragged their prisoner a little way through the jungle and then struck the trail further on beyond the scene of the fighting in which their fellows were engaged. They hurried him along, the sounds of battle growing fainter and fainter as they drew away from the contestants until there suddenly broke upon D'Arnot's vision a good-sized clearing at one end of which stood a thatched and palisaded village. It was now dusk, but the watchers at the gate saw the approaching trio and distinguished one as a prisoner ere they reached the portals. A cry went up within the palisade. A great throng of women and children rushed out to meet the party. And then began for the French officer the most terrifying experience which man can encounter upon earth--the reception of a white prisoner into a village of African cannibals. To add to the fiendishness of their cruel savagery was the poignant memory of still crueler barbarities practiced upon them and theirs by the white officers of that arch hypocrite, Leopold II of Belgium, because of whose atrocities they had fled the Congo Free State--a pitiful remnant of what once had been a mighty tribe. They fell upon D'Arnot tooth and nail, beating him with sticks and stones and tearing at him with claw-like hands. Every vestige of clothing was torn from him, and the merciless blows fell upon his bare and quivering flesh. But not once did the Frenchman cry out in pain. He breathed a silent prayer that he be quickly delivered from his torture. But the death he prayed for was not to be so easily had. Soon the warriors beat the women away from their prisoner. He was to be saved for nobler sport than this, and the first wave of their passion having subsided they contented themselves with crying out taunts and insults and spitting upon him. Presently they reached the center of the village. There D'Arnot was bound securely to the great post from which no live man had ever been released. A number of the women scattered to their several huts to fetch pots and water, while others built a row of fires on which portions of the feast were to be boiled while the balance would be slowly dried in strips for future use, as they expected the other warriors to return with many prisoners. The festivities were delayed awaiting the return of the warriors who had remained to engage in the skirmish with the white men, so that it was quite late when all were in the village, and the dance of death commenced to circle around the doomed officer. Half fainting from pain and exhaustion, D'Arnot watched from beneath half-closed lids what seemed but the vagary of delirium, or some horrid nightmare from which he must soon awake. The bestial faces, daubed with color--the huge mouths and flabby hanging lips--the yellow teeth, sharp filed--the rolling, demon eyes--the shining naked bodies--the cruel spears. Surely no such creatures really existed upon earth--he must indeed be dreaming. The savage, whirling bodies circled nearer. Now a spear sprang forth and touched his arm. The sharp pain and the feel of hot, trickling blood assured him of the awful reality of his hopeless position. Another spear and then another touched him. He closed his eyes and held his teeth firm set--he would not cry out. He was a soldier of France, and he would teach these beasts how an officer and a gentleman died. |
Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson Looking Backward From 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy Arizona Sketches by Joseph A. Munk ULLR UPRISING, an illustrated science fiction novel Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte which was one of the original gothics, and I believe it is still one of the best gothic novels ever written.
David
Copperfield is available in pdf -- OR --
David Copperfield
can be downloaded as a page-turning PC book. Just remember, this
book is twice as long as Pride and Prejudice.
Oh, one
more thing, To Open The Page-Turning Book, click in the bottom right
hand corner of the front cover.
Mansfield
Park was the most unpopular novel written by the classic producer,
Jane Austen. It has been newly arranged and
typeset by Lin Stone, then
published as an electronic book by Browzer Books.
Gold Fever is the insane compulsion to set aside
the little diamonds we already have -- and tear off
across parts dangerous and unknown to reach the
latest gold strike. "The Cure for Gold Fever" is Lin
Stone's funniest work so far. It is the obviously true
life story of how he cured himself forever of gold fever. |
.
|
Tarzan of the Apes needed no
interpreter to translate the story of those distant shots. With Jane
Porter's kisses still warm upon his lips he was swinging with
incredible rapidity through the forest trees straight toward the
village of Mbonga. He was a brave man, but he had
felt the short hairs bristle upon the nape of his neck when that
uncanny cry rose upon the air. |
