-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When Super-Apes Plot Wilder Anthony This page formatted 2004 Blackmask Online. http://www.blackmask.com CHAPTER I. FROM ANOTHER WORLD. CHAPTER II. SIGNS OF TROUBLE. CHAPTER III. AN AUDACIOUS MOVE. CHAPTER IV. IN THE JUNGLE. CHAPTER V. THE WARNING GIVEN. CHAPTER VI. FIGHTING FOR LIFE. CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW OF DEATH. CHAPTER VIII. THE ONLY CHANCE. CHAPTER IX. THE DYAK'S CREED. CHAPTER X. “SURE, MIKE!” EText from pulpgen.com CHAPTER I. FROM ANOTHER WORLD. DAWN in the Borneo jungle! The rising sun shone down upon what may have been the strangest sight seen in that vast wilderness since the beginning of time. A dark and gloomy lake, some ten miles wide, lay shimmering beneath gray mists which rose like clouds of steam from its glassy surface; here and there this surface was broken by waterspouts which constantly boiled up and fell back again as though heated from the depths' beneath by gigantic fires. On all sides was virgin jungle. A dense rank growth of trees and vines rose up from the very edge of the water like a living wall, hemming in the lake with an almost solid mass of vegetation which reached unbroken for miles and miles. Near the center of this lake there was an island. Like the mainland, this island seemed to be covered with verdure, but from near the middle of it the twin peaks of a great mountain reared up far above the treetops, and from between these peaks rose a tall column of yellowish smoke that spiraled sullenly into the upper atmosphere. To the eyes of the initiated this lazy smoke wreath told the reason for those boiling waterspouts: the whole region was volcanic, undermined with sleeping fires of a vastness beyond the conception of man. Unusual as were these natural phenomena, however, there was a far stranger thing in the lake that morning—a thing which had not been there when the sun rose on the previous day. Some two hundred feet from the shore of the island, near a point where a little sandy beach broke the monotony of the tree-fringed coast and where the black water was free from geysers, a huge seaplane lay floating gently on the still surface. Like some great fowl of an unknown species this visitor from another world rested in its dark setting, its metal parts and white planes, nearly a hundred feet across, reflecting the early rays of the sun, its propellers and engines motionless and silent. As the sun climbed higher in the sky and the lake mists evaporated and disappeared, there were sundry indications of life in the anchored seaplane. A canvas curtain which inclosed the entire hull was rolled up, and a tall, strong-looking man, about thirty years of age, thrust his head and shoulders over the side to survey the island. Presently this man was joined by another, shorter and of dark complexion; then came a thin, gray-haired old fellow; and last of all a very pretty young woman with a wealth of yellow hair, which reflected the sun's rays like polished gold. For a few minutes the four people contemplated the scene before them in silence; then the younger white man—he of the tall figure and wide shoulders who had first appeared— grinned boyishly. “Some scenery, isn't it?” he remarked, dropping one big arm caressingly around the waist of his wife, who had come close up to him. “It's the island all right; there can't be another place just like this anywhere on earth. That beach yonder looks like a scene from a comic opera—one almost expects to see a group of chorus girls come dancing out of the trees.” “A band of naked savages would be more in order,” the old man chuckled, as he removed his spectacles to wipe them with his handkerchief. “One must expect the unexpected in such a place as this. Nature is nowhere more wonderful than in the tropics; she works slowly, but with a lavish hand. Our plane gives things a distinctly up-to-date touch, however.” “You're right there, doctor,” the first speaker agreed, letting his eyes wander pridefully over the great machine which had brought them all the way from America to that little-known land. “No place on earth is inaccessible these days. The trip has been nice and comfy, too; no hardship at all.” “It's been glorious!” his wife exclaimed, snuggling closer to his side. “Perfectly glorious! Not a single hitch since we left San Francisco—if only it will continue!” “No reason in the world why it shouldn't, honey,” the big man declared. “We haven't a single thing to worry about. The Bamangani are harmless enough if they're decently treated, and the presents we've brought them will keep them jabbering with delight for years to come. There's no reason why they should not be friendly. Now, we'd better have breakfast. We've got lots to do, you know. Batu and I must go ashore and explain matters to these ape-men. If they should happen to catch a glimpse of the Condor before we talk with them they'll likely be scared stiff. Eh, Batu?” The Dyak grinned broadly. “Yes, tuan,”— master—he answered. “Bamangani not understand flying through the air—think we are gods or devils when they see big bird-boat. Think us very much taboo. Sure, Mike!” He turned and ducked down into the little cabin amidships to attend to his cooking, and the others smiled. Several years of city life had made some wonderful changes in Batu, and the most noticeable of these, perhaps, was the aptitude he had shown for English, especially American slang. With the exception of the word “tuan,” by which term of affectionate respect he always addressed his employer, he reverted to his mother tongue only in moments of great stress or excitement. When he left Borneo to follow the master, whom he loved even better than his native jungle, to America he had been an untamed son of the wilderness; now he was a more-or-less-finished product of the land of his adoption. Nominally, he was Thomas Hardin's personal servant; actually he was a friend, almost a member, of the family, as indispensable to them as the banker and his wife were to him. At the breakfast table in the cheerful little cabin, around which they presently gathered, the various members of the expedition discussed their plans for the day. They all were in high good humor that morning. Their journey had been a wonderful success so far. The seaplane—the very latest thing in flying craft, and capable of carrying twice its present allotment of passengers as well as the immense amount of fuel, arms, and provisions with which it was stored—had made the long flight with remarkable ease and speed. They had not found it necessary to make a single unscheduled stop, and they had not encountered a single storm en route. This in itself was enough to put them in buoyant spirits; but this was not all. For various reasons they were all of them glad to reach the island. Doctor Thorold Dumont, famous scientist and exponent of Darwinism, was glad because he was going to have an opportunity of studying the strange race of natives which lived there. Thomas Hardin, wealthy banker and sportsman of worldwide reputation, and Irene, his wife and Doctor Dumont's niece, were happy because Borneo brought back memories of the days when they first had met and learned to love each other; and Batu, the former Dyak chieftain, was elated at the thought of spending a few days in his native jungle. “Batu and I will do some scouting and prospecting this morning,” Hardin decided. “We'll tramp inland toward the volcano and try to get in touch with the natives. After we've established friendly relations with them—a mere formality, of course—you two can land, and we'll all go on to their village.” Doctor Dumont nodded. “All right,” he said; “but be as quick as you can, please. Remember, I am exceedingly anxious to test my theories. I want to see if there is any ground for the current belief that they are directly descended from the ape. If they are, if any of them have rudimentary tails, as I am inclined to believe, Professor Archer's statement to the contrary notwithstanding, it will be a big step forward. When I was in Borneo years ago I was interrupted before I could prove or disprove this important fact. This time I must not fail.” “You'll be careful, won't you, Tom?” Irene begged, looking at her big husband anxiously. “Don't forget that these ape-men are only a little way removed from brutes. They used to be head hunters and cannibals, you know, and we must be on our guard against treachery.” “I know, dear,” he assured her, smiling; “but that was long ago. Conditions are very different now. The Bamangani have absolutely no reason to be hostile; quite the contrary, in fact. They should be glad to see us, and they will be when they see what we've brought them. Our presents will tickle them to death. There's no danger—if there was, we wouldn't have come. Besides, at the very first hint of trouble we can fly away again. You mustn't worry, honey.” “Oh, I'm not worrying,” Irene declared, although her eyes belied her words; “but I can't help thinking. I wish uncle's business wasn't forever taking him into such outlandish places. This island is a spooky place; it makes me uneasy. We must be very careful until we're sure of our reception.” “We will be, of course. We'll take every precaution. After we land, you must run the Condor out here again and anchor until we return. We'll be back before dark. Some of the natives might wander this way in the meantime, however, and it would be better in such an event for the plane to be out of reach. Except Batu, none of us can speak their language, you know. At the least hint of danger take to the air or the middle of the lake and fire a gun twice rapidly for a signal—sounds like that will travel far in this sti...
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