CHAPTER X

_Written in Dust_

As Apeman was borne deeper into the jungle in the great arms of the

she, what was more natural in the circumstances than that Ellen keep

close to her only remaining link with the world she had left--Manape,

the trained anthropoid of Caleb Barter? A natural thing, and one that

filled Manape with obvious pleasure.

Once she touched his hand, rested her own small one in his mighty palm

for a moment--and Bentley was afraid to return the pressure of her

palm with the hand of Manape, lest he crush every bone in her fingers.

Thereafter at intervals, while the whole aggregation drifted deeper

into the jungle, Ellen clung to Manape; depended upon him. Was it her

woman's intuition which told her that Manape was a safe guardian?

Bentley refused to dwell on that phase of this wild adventure however,

for there were other things to think about. It required many hours for

him to discover the truth, but he knew it at last. He, Manape-Bentley,

was the lord of the great apes! Before his capture, or before the

capture of Manape by Caleb Barter, Manape had been leader of these

apes. Now he had returned and was their ruler once more. Upstarts had

taken his place, and he had slain them--back there when Apeman had

tried to escape into the jungle with Ellen in his arms. To the apes

this must have seemed the way it was.

Bentley was putting things together, hoping and believing that they

made four--yet not sure but that he was forcing them to equal four

when in actuality they were five or six. If Manape--the original ape

of Barter's capture, whose body now was Bentley's--had been the leader

of the great apes, that explained why the animals remained constantly

in the vicinity of Barter's dwelling. Barter had needed them in his

plans, and had made certain their remaining near by making their

leader captive. And of course only an ape sufficiently intelligent to

rule other apes would have suited the evil scheme which must have been

growing for years in the mind of Caleb Barter. Barter had merely

waited with philosophic calmness for human beings to drift into this

territory--and the _Bengal Queen_ had obligingly gone down off the

coast, throwing Ellen Estabrook and Lee Bentley into Barter's power.

* * * * *

What was Barter doing now? Would he not be striving to watch the

course of his experiment? Would he not think of details hitherto

overlooked and plan further experiments, or an enlarging of this

experiment of which three creatures were the victims? Surely Barter

would not remain quietly at Barterville while the subjects of his

experiment went deeper into the jungle with the great apes. Barter was

too thorough a scientist for that. Somehow, Bentley was sure, Barter

would know what was happening, even at this very moment.

He would wish to know how a modern woman would conduct herself if

suddenly forced to live among apes. Therefore he would try in some

manner to keep watch over the conduct of Ellen Estabrook. He would

wonder how a modern man would conduct himself if he suddenly found,

himself the leader of that same group of apes, and how an ape would

behave if he suddenly discovered himself a man. It was a neat

"experiment," and Bentley was beginning to believe that there was

probably far more to it than there first had seemed.

Barter would wish to know how all three creatures would conduct

themselves in certain circumstances--Apeman, Ellen and Bentley. He

would not leave it to chance, for Bentley now realized that Barter

himself did not feel inimical to either Ellen, Apeman or Bentley. To

him they were merely an experiment. Barter would not wish for Apeman

to die, and thus deprive Barter of a certain knowledge relative to one

angle of his unholy experiment. He would not wish for Manape-Bentley

to remain forever as Manape-Bentley, lacking the power of speech,

either human speech or the gibberish of the apes.

No, all this was not being left to chance. Bentley believed that

Barter was directing the destination of these three subjects of his,

as surely as though he were right with them at this moment, driving

them to his will with that awful lash which had made him feared by the

great apes.

* * * * *

Yes, Barter was still the master mind. It made Bentley feel awfully

helpless. Yet--he was the leader of the great apes. That, too, Barter

must have foreseen. Would Barter try in any way to discover how

Bentley would behave in an emergency as leader of the apes? Would he

wish to know sufficiently to create an emergency? From Bentley's

knowledge of the twisted genius of Caleb Barter, he fully believed

that Barter planned yet other angles to his experiment.

If he did, then what would he do next?

It was not until the storm broke over the strange aggregation of great

apes, who seemed to be holding two white people prisoners, that

Bentley understood that from the very beginning he should have been

able to see the obvious denouement--the mad climax which even then was

preparing in the jungle ahead, simply waiting for the great apes to

drift, feeding as they went without a thought of danger, into the trap

set for them.

Ellen now kept her hand in the great palm of Manape. She wept on

occasions, when she thought of the apparent hopelessness of her

position, but for the most part she was brave, and Bentley grew to

love her more as the hours passed--even as he grew more impatient at

his inability to express his love. If he tried he could simply

frighten her--fill her with horror because, gentle though he was with

her and he was a great ape, a fact which nothing could change. Nor

could anybody change the fact, except Caleb Barter. Where was the

scientist? What would be his next move if he were not leaving the

working out of his experiment entirely to chance, which seemed not at

all in keeping with the thorough manner of his experiment thus far.

The future was a dark, painful obscurity, in which all things were

hidden, in which anything might happen--because Caleb Barter would

wish for it to happen.

* * * * *

How long would Barter wait before making his next move? Long enough

for Ellen to accustom herself to life among the apes? Long enough to

discover whether her natural intelligence would guide her to eke out

existence among hardships such as human beings never thought of,

except perhaps in nightmares? Long enough to allow the brain of

Bentley to discover what miracles intellect might do with the body of

Manape? Long enough for Apeman to be well of his illness, so that he

might observe what havoc an ape's brain might work with a human body?

Certainly when one gave the hideous experiment full thought, its

possible angles of development, its many potential ramifications, were

astounding in the extreme. Was it not up to Bentley then to do

something besides mope and pine for the impossible, and thus hasten

the hour when Barter should be wholly satisfied with his experiment?

What would Apeman do, how would he behave, when the white body of

Bentley was well again? Would that body grow well faster when guided

by an ape's brain than when a human brain was in command? Certainly

Caleb Barter must have listed all these questions and hundreds of

others which had not as yet occurred to Bentley. If he had he would

not transfer the two intelligences back to their proper places until

all of his questions were answered to his satisfaction. Bentley

himself must somehow force an answer to some of them.

To do this he must try to guess what sort of questions Barter would

have listed, and try to work out their answers--assuming all the time

that Barter, from some undiscovered coign of vantage would be watching

for the answers he hoped his experiment would provide.

Bentley arrived at a decision. Ellen must long since have become

numbed to the horror which encompassed her. Bentley knew that a human

brain could stand only so much, beyond which it was no longer

surprised or horrified. He guessed, noting the pale face of his

beloved, that Ellen had well nigh reached that stage.

He decided to take a tremendous risk with her sanity, hoping thereby

to do his part in working out the details of Barter's experiment.

* * * * *

The sun was creeping into the west when the roving apes came to pause

in a sort of clearing. Some of them curled up in sleep. The she who

carried Apeman squatted with Apeman in her arms, and licked his wounds

again.

That Apeman was recovering was plainly evident, and when he saw it

filled Bentley with an odd mixture of thankfulness and revulsion.

Apeman was essentially an ape. With all his strength back he would

revert to type, and what if he forced the body of Bentley to do

horrible things that Ellen would never be able to forget or

condone--even when she at last knew the truth? What if Apeman

selected, for example, a mate--from among the hairy she's? For Apeman

that would be natural, for Bentley horrible.

Yet it might easily transpire. Apeman might relinquish the white she

to a successful rival--which he would regard Manape as being--and

content himself with a choice from the ape she's. Somehow that unholy

thing must not happen. That was up to Manape-Bentley.

Or, with his strength fully returned, Apeman might again desire Ellen,

and force the issue with Manape for her possession--which seemed

equally horrible to the brain of Bentley.

Ellen remained as close to Apeman as the she would permit her.

Manape-Bentley crouched close by. After a time Apeman slept, and

Bentley was pleased to notice that the agony sweat no longer beaded

Apeman's body, and that Apeman was recovering with superhuman

swiftness--thanks to the ministrations of the unnamed she who had

taken charge of him. Apeman now rarely groaned, sleeping or waking.

Ellen watched the sleeping Apeman with her heart--and her fears--in

her eyes. Satisfied that he slept, and that his sleep was healthy,

Ellen again approached the creature she knew as Manape, Barter's

trained ape.

"If only you could talk," she said to him. "If only you were able to

give some hope. If only there were some way I could cause you to

understand my wishes--understand and help me."

* * * * *

Bentley did not answer. He knew that to be useless. But his brain

remembered something. His brain recalled that moment in the cage in

the dwelling of Barter, when his human brain had tried to force

obedience from the great clumsy hands of Manape, when he had tried to

force those mighty fingers to unfasten the knots which held the cage

door secure.

Could he force those hands to something else?

Did he dare try?

It was a terrible risk to take with Ellen's sanity, but Bentley felt

it must be taken. She was watching him hopelessly, and her lips moved

as though she prayed for a miracle--as though by some weird necromancy

she might force Manape to understand her words, and to answer her,

allaying her fears, destroying her hopelessness.

When Ellen watched him, Bentley searched about nearby until he found a

dried stick perhaps eight feet in length. He held it up, sniffed at

it, fumbled it with his heavy, grotesque fingers. He focussed the

attention of Ellen upon that stick, while his excitement mounted and

mounted, and his fear of possible consequences kept pace with his

excitement.

Then, his decision reached, he began again that species of hypnosis

which seemed necessary to compel the hands and fingers of Manape to do

things no ape's hands had ever done before, no ape's brain had ever

thought of doing.

He pressed one end of the stick against the ground at his sprawling

feet. With his left palm he smoothed out an area of dust several feet

in either direction--a rough dusty rectangle.

Interested, her brows puckered in concentration. Ellen watched as

Manape went through these gestures which were so strangely, terribly

human.

Her eyes were watching the end of that twig which the trained ape was

so clumsily clutching in both hands.

She saw the marks the twig made in the dust as Manape caused it to

move--slowly, horribly, fearfully, from left to right across the area

of dust.

* * * * *

Fear began to grow in her face, but Bentley forced himself on. Again

the fetid odor of ape sweat covered him. This awful concentration,

this awful task of forcing Manape to write English words was in itself

a miracle, more miraculous even than Ellen would have thought of

praying for.

Her eyes were glued to the sprawling, uneven, misshapen marks in the

dust with hypnotic fascination. Bentley dared not look at her, because

it required all his will to force the clumsy hands of Manape to his

bidding.

He could only watch the marks in the dust, and will with all the power

of his human intelligence that the hands of Manape make their shape

sufficiently plain that Ellen might read them--and hope besides that

this terrible thing would not send the sorely harassed girl into the

jungle, madly shrieking for deliverance from a nightmare.

There, the words were written--and Ellen was staring at them, her eyes

wide and unblinking, her body as rigid as stone, and her face as cold.

Only three words were possible without an interval of rest, but those

three words, among all Bentley might have selected, were the most to

the point, the most unbelievable, the most black-magical.

_"I am Lee!"_

Minutes went into eternity as Ellen stared at the words. Silence that

it seemed would never be broken hang over the clearing. The bickering

of the apes passed unnoticed as Ellen stared. Then, slowly, she tried

to raise her eyes to meet those of Manape.

She failed. Her body went limp and she slid forward on her face in the

dust. Manape-Bentley gently turned her on her side and waited. What

would he see in her beloved eyes when she regained consciousness?