The Son of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 117

The man kissed her, and
turning toward Meriem introduced them, speaking in the Arab tongue the
girl understood.

"This is Meriem, my dear," he said, and he told the story of the jungle
waif in so far as he knew it.

Meriem saw that the woman was beautiful. She saw that sweetness and
goodness were stamped indelibly upon her countenance. She no longer
feared her, and when her brief story had been narrated and the woman
came and put her arms about her and kissed her and called her "poor
little darling" something snapped in Meriem's little heart. She buried
her face on the bosom of this new friend in whose voice was the mother
tone that Meriem had not heard for so many years that she had forgotten
its very existence. She buried her face on the kindly bosom and wept
as she had not wept before in all her life--tears of relief and joy
that she could not fathom.

And so came Meriem, the savage little Mangani, out of her beloved
jungle into the midst of a home of culture and refinement. Already
"Bwana" and "My Dear," as she first heard them called and continued to
call them, were as father and mother to her. Once her savage fears
allayed, she went to the opposite extreme of trustfulness and love.
Now she was willing to wait here until they found Korak, or Korak found
her. She did not give up that thought--Korak, her Korak always was
first.




Chapter 15


And out in the jungle, far away, Korak, covered with wounds, stiff with
clotted blood, burning with rage and sorrow, swung back upon the trail
of the great baboons. He had not found them where he had last seen
them, nor in any of their usual haunts; but he sought them along the
well-marked spoor they had left behind them, and at last he overtook
them. When first he came upon them they were moving slowly but
steadily southward in one of those periodic migrations the reasons for
which the baboon himself is best able to explain. At sight of the
white warrior who came upon them from down wind the herd halted in
response to the warning cry of the sentinel that had discovered him.
There was much growling and muttering; much stiff-legged circling on
the part of the bulls. The mothers, in nervous, high pitched tones,
called their young to their sides, and with them moved to safety behind
their lords and masters.

Korak called aloud to the king, who, at the familiar voice,

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