Stooping, he crawled into the shelter beside the wounded
officer, and placed a cool hand upon his forehead.
D'Arnot spoke to him in French, but the man only shook
his head--sadly, it seemed to the Frenchman.
Then D'Arnot tried English, but still the man shook his head.
Italian, Spanish and German brought similar discouragement.
D'Arnot knew a few words of Norwegian, Russian, Greek,
and also had a smattering of the language of one of the
West Coast negro tribes--the man denied them all.
After examining D'Arnot's wounds the man left the shelter
and disappeared. In half an hour he was back with fruit and
a hollow gourd-like vegetable filled with water.
D'Arnot drank and ate a little. He was surprised that he
had no fever. Again he tried to converse with his strange
nurse, but the attempt was useless.
Suddenly the man hastened from the shelter only to return
a few minutes later with several pieces of bark and--wonder
of wonders--a lead pencil.
Squatting beside D'Arnot he wrote for a minute on the
smooth inner surface of the bark; then he handed it to the
Frenchman.
D'Arnot was astonished to see, in plain print-like characters,
a message in English:
I am Tarzan of the Apes. Who are you? Can you read this
language?
D'Arnot seized the pencil--then he stopped. This strange
man wrote English--evidently he was an Englishman.
Pages:
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282