Chapter III. Life and Death

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

　　Morning found them but little, if at all refreshed, thoughit was with a feeling of intense relief that they saw theday dawn.

　　As soon as they had made their meager breakfast of saltpork, coffee and biscuit, Clayton commenced work upon theirhouse, for he realized that they could hope for no safety andno peace of mind at night until four strong walls effectuallybarred the jungle life from them.

　　The task was an arduous one and required the better part ofa month, though he built but one small room. He constructedhis cabin of small logs about six inches in diameter,stopping the chinks with clay which he found at the depth ofa few feet beneath the surface soil.

　　At one end he built a fireplace of small stones from thebeach. These also he set in clay and when the house had beenentirely completed he applied a coating of the clay to theentire outside surface to the thickness of four inches.

　　In the window opening he set small branches about an inch indiameter both vertically and horizontally, and so woven that theyformed a substantial grating that could withstand the strengthof a powerful animal. Thus they obtained air and properventilation without fear of lessening the safety of their cabin.

　　The A-shaped roof was thatched with small branches laidclose together and over these long jungle grass and palmfronds, with a final coating of clay.

　　The door he built of pieces of the packing-boxes whichhad held their belongings, nailing one piece upon another, thegrain of contiguous layers running transversely, until he hada solid body some three inches thick and of such greatstrength that they were both moved to laughter as they gazedupon it.

　　Here the greatest difficulty confronted Clayton, for he hadno means whereby to hang his massive door now that he hadbuilt it. After two days' work, however, he succeeded infashioning two massive hardwood hinges, and with these hehung the door so that it opened and closed easily.

　　The stuccoing and other final touches were added afterthey moved into the house, which they had done as soon asthe roof was on, piling their boxes before the door at nightand thus having a comparatively safe and comfortable habitation.

　　The building of a bed, chairs, table, and shelves was arelatively easy matter, so that by the end of the second monththey were well settled, and, but for the constant dread ofattack by wild beasts and the ever growing loneliness, theywere not uncomfortable or unhappy.

　　At night great beasts snarled and roared about their tinycabin, but, so accustomed may one become to oft repeatednoises, that soon they paid little attention to them, sleepingsoundly the whole night through.

　　Thrice had they caught fleeting glimpses of great man-likefigures like that of the first night, but never at sufficientlyclose range to know positively whether the half-seen formswere those of man or brute.

　　The brilliant birds and the little monkeys had become accustomedto their new acquaintances, and as they had evidently neverseen human beings before they presently, after their firstfright had worn off, approached closer and closer, impelledby that strange curiosity which dominates the wild creaturesof the forest and the jungle and the plain, so that withinthe first month several of the birds had gone so far as evento accept morsels of food from the friendly hands of the Claytons.

　　One afternoon, while Clayton was working upon an additionto their cabin, for he contemplated building several morerooms, a number of their grotesque little friends came shriekingand scolding through the trees from the direction of theridge. Ever as they fled they cast fearful glances back ofthem, and finally they stopped near Clayton jabbering excitedlyto him as though to warn him of approaching danger.

　　At last he saw it, the thing the little monkeys so feared--the man-brute of which the Claytons had caught occasionalfleeting glimpses.

　　It was approaching through the jungle in a semi-erect position,now and then placing the backs of its closed fists upon theground--a great anthropoid ape, and, as it advanced, it emitteddeep guttural growls and an occasional low barking sound.

　　Clayton was at some distance from the cabin, having cometo fell a particularly perfect tree for his building operations.Grown careless from months of continued safety, duringwhich time he had seen no dangerous animals during the daylighthours, he had left his rifles and revolvers all within thelittle cabin, and now that he saw the great ape crashingthrough the underbrush directly toward him, and from adirection which practically cut him off from escape, hefelt a vague little shiver play up and down his spine.

　　He knew that, armed only with an ax, his chances with thisferocious monster were small indeed--and Alice; O God, hethought, what will become of Alice?

　　There was yet a slight chance of reaching the cabin. Heturned and ran toward it, shouting an alarm to his wife to runin and close the great door in case the ape cut off his retreat.

　　Lady Greystoke had been sitting a little way from thecabin, and when she heard his cry she looked up to see theape springing with almost incredible swiftness, for so largeand awkward an animal, in an effort to head off Clayton.

　　With a low cry she sprang toward the cabin, and, as sheentered, gave a backward glance which filled her soul withterror, for the brute had intercepted her husband, who nowstood at bay grasping his ax with both hands ready to swingit upon the infuriated animal when he should make his finalcharge.

　　"Close and bolt the door, Alice," cried Clayton. "I canfinish this fellow with my ax."

　　But he knew he was facing a horrible death, and so did she.

　　The ape was a great bull, weighing probably three hundredpounds. His nasty, close-set eyes gleamed hatred from beneathhis shaggy brows, while his great canine fangs were baredin a horrid snarl as he paused a moment before his prey.

　　Over the brute's shoulder Clayton could see the doorwayof his cabin, not twenty paces distant, and a great wave ofhorror and fear swept over him as he saw his young wifeemerge, armed with one of his rifles.

　　She had always been afraid of firearms, and would nevertouch them, but now she rushed toward the ape with thefearlessness of a lioness protecting its young.

　　"Back, Alice," shouted Clayton, "for God's sake, go back."

　　But she would not heed, and just then the ape charged, sothat Clayton could say no more.

　　The man swung his ax with all his mighty strength, but thepowerful brute seized it in those terrible hands, and tearing itfrom Clayton's grasp hurled it far to one side.

　　With an ugly snarl he closed upon his defenseless victim,but ere his fangs had reached the throat they thirsted for,there was a sharp report and a bullet entered the ape's backbetween his shoulders.

　　Throwing Clayton to the ground the beast turned upon hisnew enemy. There before him stood the terrified girl vainlytrying to fire another bullet into the animal's body; but shedid not understand the mechanism of the firearm, and thehammer fell futilely upon an empty cartridge.

　　Almost simultaneously Clayton regained his feet, and withoutthought of the utter hopelessness of it, he rushed forwardto drag the ape from his wife's prostrate form.

　　With little or no effort he succeeded, and the great bulkrolled inertly upon the turf before him--the ape was dead.The bullet had done its work.

　　A hasty examination of his wife revealed no marks uponher, and Clayton decided that the huge brute had died theinstant he had sprung toward Alice.

　　Gently he lifted his wife's still unconscious form, and boreher to the little cabin, but it was fully two hours before sheregained consciousness.

　　Her first words filled Clayton with vague apprehension.For some time after regaining her senses, Alice gazedwonderingly about the interior of the little cabin, andthen, with a satisfied sigh, said:

　　"O, John, it is so good to be really home! I have had anawful dream, dear. I thought we were no longer in London,but in some horrible place where great beasts attacked us."

　　"There, there, Alice," he said, stroking her forehead, "tryto sleep again, and do not worry your head about bad dreams."

　　That night a little son was born in the tiny cabin beside theprimeval forest, while a leopard screamed before the door, andthe deep notes of a lion's roar sounded from beyond the ridge.

　　Lady Greystoke never recovered from the shock of thegreat ape's attack, and, though she lived for a year after herbaby was born, she was never again outside the cabin, nordid she ever fully realize that she was not in England.

　　Sometimes she would question Clayton as to the strangenoises of the nights; the absence of servants and friends, andthe strange rudeness of the furnishings within her room, but,though he made no effort to deceive her, never could shegrasp the meaning of it all.

　　In other ways she was quite rational, and the joy and happinessshe took in the possession of her little son and the constantattentions of her husband made that year a very happyone for her, the happiest of her young life.

　　That it would have been beset by worries and apprehensionhad she been in full command of her mental faculties Claytonwell knew; so that while he suffered terribly to see her so,there were times when he was almost glad, for her sake, thatshe could not understand.

　　Long since had he given up any hope of rescue, exceptthrough accident. With unremitting zeal he had worked tobeautify the interior of the cabin.

　　Skins of lion and panther covered the floor. Cupboards andbookcases lined the walls. Odd vases made by his own handfrom the clay of the region held beautiful tropical flowers.Curtains of grass and bamboo covered the windows, and,most arduous task of all, with his meager assortment of toolshe had fashioned lumber to neatly seal the walls and ceilingand lay a smooth floor within the cabin.

　　That he had been able to turn his hands at all to suchunaccustomed labor was a source of mild wonder to him.But he loved the work because it was for her and the tiny lifethat had come to cheer them, though adding a hundredfoldto his responsibilities and to the terribleness of their situation.

　　During the year that followed, Clayton was several timesattacked by the great apes which now seemed to continuallyinfest the vicinity of the cabin; but as he never againventured outside without both rifle and revolvers he hadlittle fear of the huge beasts.

　　He had strengthened the window protections and fitted aunique wooden lock to the cabin door, so that when hehunted for game and fruits, as it was constantly necessary forhim to do to insure sustenance, he had no fear that any animalcould break into the little home.

　　At first he shot much of the game from the cabin windows,but toward the end the animals learned to fear the strangelair from whence issued the terrifying thunder of his rifle.

　　In his leisure Clayton read, often aloud to his wife, fromthe store of books he had brought for their new home.Among these were many for little children--picture books,primers, readers--for they had known that their little childwould be old enough for such before they might hope to returnto England.

　　At other times Clayton wrote in his diary, which he hadalways been accustomed to keep in French, and in which herecorded the details of their strange life. This book he keptlocked in a little metal box.

　　A year from the day her little son was born Lady Alicepassed quietly away in the night. So peaceful was her endthat it was hours before Clayton could awake to a realizationthat his wife was dead.

　　The horror of the situation came to him very slowly, and itis doubtful that he ever fully realized the enormity of hissorrow and the fearful responsibility that had devolved uponhim with the care of that wee thing, his son, still a nursing babe.

　　The last entry in his diary was made the morning followingher death, and there he recites the sad details in a matter-of-fact way that adds to the pathos of it; for it breathes a tiredapathy born of long sorrow and hopelessness, which even thiscruel blow could scarcely awake to further suffering:

　　My little son is crying for nourishment--O Alice, Alice,what shall I do?

　　And as John Clayton wrote the last words his hand wasdestined ever to pen, he dropped his head wearily upon hisoutstretched arms where they rested upon the table he hadbuilt for her who lay still and cold in the bed beside him.

　　For a long time no sound broke the deathlike stillness ofthe jungle midday save the piteous wailing of the tiny man-child.