第 10 节
作者:击水三千      更新:2021-02-18 22:45      字数:9321
  pause to lower fences; instead; they drove their wild mounts straight for
  them; clearing the obstacles as lightly as winged gulls。
  Mugambi   saw   them   coming;   and;   calling   those   of   his   warriors   who
  remained;   ran   for   the   bungalow   and   the   last   stand。      Upon   the   veranda
  Lady     Greystoke      stood;   rifle  in   hand。    More      than   a  single   raider   had
  accounted to her steady nerves and cool aim for his outlawry; more than a
  single pony raced; riderless; in the wake of the charging horde。
  Mugambi   pushed   his   mistress   back   into   the   greater   security   of   the
  interior; and with his depleted force prepared to make a last stand against
  the foe。
  On came the Arabs; shouting and waving their long guns above their
  heads。      Past    the   veranda     they   raced;   pouring     a   deadly    fire  into   the
  kneeling Waziri who discharged their volley of arrows from behind their
  long; oval shieldsshields well adapted; perhaps; to stop a hostile arrow;
  or   deflect   a   spear;   but   futile;   quite;   before  the   leaden    missiles   of   the
  riflemen。
  From beneath the half…raised shutters of the bungalow other bowmen
  did    effective    service     in  greater    security;    and   after   the   first  assault;
  Mugambi withdrew his entire force within the building。
  Again and again the Arabs charged; at last forming a stationary circle
  about the little fortress; and outside  the effective range of the  defenders'
  arrows。 From their new position they fired at will at the windows。                         One
  by one the Waziri fell。          Fewer and fewer were the arrows that replied to
  the   guns   of   the   raiders;   and   at   last Achmet   Zek   felt   safe   in   ordering   an
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  Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar
  assault。
  Firing   as   they  ran;   the  bloodthirsty  horde   raced   for  the   veranda。      A
  dozen of them fell to the arrows of the defenders; but the majority reached
  the   door。   Heavy   gun   butts   fell   upon   it。  The   crash   of   splintered   wood
  mingled with the report of a rifle as Jane Clayton fired through the panels
  upon the relentless foe。
  Upon both sides of the door men fell; but at last the frail barrier gave
  to the vicious assaults of the maddened attackers; it crumpled inward and a
  dozen swarthy murderers leaped into the living…room。 At the far end stood
  Jane Clayton surrounded by the remnant of her devoted guardians。                         The
  floor was covered by the bodies of those who already had given up their
  lives   in   her   defense。   In   the   forefront   of   her   protectors   stood   the   giant
  Mugambi。         The Arabs   raised   their   rifles   to   pour   in   the   last   volley   that
  would effectually end all resistance; but Achmet Zek roared out a warning
  order that stayed their trigger fingers。
  〃Fire not upon the woman!〃 he cried。               〃Who harms her; dies。           Take
  the woman alive!〃
  The   Arabs   rushed   across   the   room;   the   Waziri   met   them   with   their
  heavy     spears。    Swords      flashed;    long…barreled      pistols   roared   out   their
  sullen   death   dooms。      Mugambi   launched   his   spear   at   the   nearest   of   the
  enemy   with   a   force   that   drove   the   heavy   shaft   completely   through   the
  Arab's body; then he seized a pistol from another; and grasping it by the
  barrel brained all who forced their way too near his mistress。
  Emulating his example the few warriors who remained to him fought
  like demons;   but   one   by  one   they  fell;  until   only  Mugambi   remained   to
  defend the life and honor of the ape…man's mate。
  From across the room Achmet Zek watched the unequal struggle and
  urged on his   minions。        In his   hands was a   jeweled musket。            Slowly  he
  raised     it  to  his   shoulder;    waiting     until  another     move     should    place
  Mugambi at his mercy without endangering the lives of the woman or any
  of his own followers。
  At    last  the   moment      came;     and   Achmet      Zek    pulled    the   trigger。
  Without a sound the brave Mugambi sank to the floor at the feet of Jane
  Clayton。
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  An   instant   later   she   was   surrounded   and   disarmed。   Without   a   word
  they   dragged   her   from   the   bungalow。   A   giant   Negro   lifted   her   to   the
  pommel   of   his   saddle;   and   while the   raiders   searched   the bungalow   and
  outhouses for plunder he rode with her beyond the gates and waited the
  coming of his master。
  Jane Clayton saw the raiders lead the horses from the corral; and drive
  the   herds   in   from   the   fields。   She   saw   her   home   plundered   of   all   that
  represented intrinsic worth in the eyes of the Arabs; and then she saw the
  torch applied; and the flames lick up what remained。
  And   at   last;   when the   raiders   assembled   after glutting   their   fury  and
  their avarice; and rode away with her toward the north; she saw the smoke
  and the flames rising far into the heavens until the winding of the trail into
  the thick forests hid the sad view from her eyes。
  As the flames ate their way into the living…room; reaching out forked
  tongues to lick up the bodies of the dead; one of that gruesome company
  whose bloody welterings had long since been stilled; moved again。 It was
  a   huge    black   who    rolled   over   upon    his  side   and   opened     blood…shot;
  suffering eyes。       Mugambi; whom the Arabs had left for dead; still lived。
  The hot flames were almost upon him as he raised himself painfully upon
  his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward the doorway。
  Again   and   again   he   sank   weakly  to   the   floor;   but   each   time   he   rose
  again and continued his pitiful way toward safety。                After what seemed to
  him an interminable time; during which the flames had become a veritable
  fiery furnace at the far side of the room; the great black managed to reach
  the veranda; roll down the steps; and crawl off into the cool safety of some
  nearby shrubbery。
  All night he lay there; alternately unconscious and painfully sentient;
  and in the latter state watching with savage hatred the lurid flames which
  still rose from burning crib and hay cock。            A prowling lion roared close at
  hand; but the giant black was unafraid。             There was place for but a single
  thought in his savage mind revenge!             revenge!      revenge!
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  Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar
  7
  The Jewel…Room of Opar
  For some time Tarzan lay where he had fallen upon the floor of the
  treasure chamber beneath the ruined walls of Opar。                 He lay as one dead;
  but he was not dead。 At length he stirred。            His eyes opened upon the utter
  darkness of the room。         He raised his hand to his head and brought it away
  sticky with clotted blood。         He sniffed at his fingers; as a wild beast might
  sniff at the life…blood upon a wounded paw。
  Slowly he rose to a sitting posturelistening。 No sound reached to the
  buried   depths   of   his   sepulcher。   He   staggered   to   his   feet;   and   groped   his
  way about among the tiers of ingots。            What was he?        Where was he? His
  head   ached;   but   otherwise   he   felt   no   ill   effects   from   the   blow   that   had
  felled him。     The accident he did not recall; nor did he recall aught of what
  had led up to it。
  He let his hands grope unfamiliarly over his limbs; his torso; and his
  head。     He    felt  of  the  quiver   at  his  back;   the   knife  in  his   loin  cloth。
  Something   struggled   for   recognition   within   his   brain。       Ah!     he   had   it。
  There was something missing。             He crawled about upon the floor; feeling
  with his hands for the thing that instinct warned him was gone。                 At last he
  found itthe heavy war spear that in past years had formed so important a
  feature of his daily life; almost of his very existence; so inseparably had it
  been connected with his every action since the long…gone day that he had
  wrested   his   first   spear   from   the   body   of   a   black   victim   of   his   savage
  training。
  Tarzan   was   sure   that   there   was   another   and   more   lovely   world   than
  that    which