The Beasts of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 82

no good at all. Think of the kid,
lady, and what it would be for you both to fall into Rokoff's hands
again. For his sake you must do what Ay say. Here, take my rifle and
ammunition; you may need them."

He shoved the gun and bandoleer into the shelter beside Jane. Then he
was gone.

She watched him as he returned along the path to meet the oncoming
safari of the Russian. Soon a turn in the trail hid him from view.

Her first impulse was to follow. With the rifle she might be of
assistance to him, and, further, she could not bear the terrible
thought of being left alone at the mercy of the fearful jungle without
a single friend to aid her.

She started to crawl from her shelter with the intention of running
after Anderssen as fast as she could. As she drew the baby close to
her she glanced down into its little face.

How red it was! How unnatural the little thing looked. She raised
the cheek to hers. It was fiery hot with fever!

With a little gasp of terror Jane Clayton rose to her feet in the
jungle path. The rifle and bandoleer lay forgotten in the shelter
beside her. Anderssen was forgotten, and Rokoff, and her great peril.

All that rioted through her fear-mad brain was the fearful fact that
this little, helpless child was stricken with the terrible
jungle-fever, and that she was helpless to do aught to allay its
sufferings--sufferings that were sure to come during ensuing
intervals of partial consciousness.

Her one thought was to find some one who could help her--some woman who
had had children of her own--and with the thought came recollection of
the friendly village of which Anderssen had spoken. If she could but
reach it--in time!

There was no time to be lost. Like a startled antelope she turned and
fled up the trail in the direction Anderssen had indicated.

From far behind came the sudden shouting of men, the sound of shots,
and then silence. She knew that Anderssen had met the Russian.

A half-hour later she stumbled, exhausted, into a little thatched
village. Instantly she was surrounded by men, women, and children.
Eager, curious, excited natives plied her with a hundred questions, no
one of which she could understand or answer.

All that she could do was to point tearfully at the baby, now wailing
piteously in her arms, and repeat over and over, "Fever--fever--fever."

The blacks did not

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