CHAPTER IX

_Fate Decides_

Morning brought the great apes of the jungle--scores of them. They had

approached so silently through the darkness that Bentley had not heard

them, and his ape's nostrils had not told his human brain the meaning

of their odor. It appeared too that his ape's ears had tricked him.

For when morning came there were great apes everywhere.

Bentley still held the wrist of Apeman, whose chest was rising and

falling naturally, though the body was limp and plainly exhausted, and

exuded perspiration that told of some jungle fever or other illness

perhaps, induced by hardship and over-exertion. The ape's brain of

Apeman had driven Bentley's body to the uttermost, and now that body

must pay.

Bentley wondered how far he was now from the cabin of Caleb Barter.

He doubted if Apeman could stand the return journey, though Bentley's

ape body could have carried Apeman's with ease. But would Apeman

stand the journey? Apeman, Bentley knew, was going into the Valley of

the Shadow, and something must be done to save him. But what?

And the great apes constituted a new menace, though they were making

no effort to molest the three in the tree. Apeman must be placed in a

shady place and some attention paid to his needs. But the human body

with the ape's brain could not tell how it hurt or where.

The first task was to get the two beings down from the tree, and much

depended upon chance. To the apes Bentley was another ape, one

moreover which had slain a number of them. But Apeman was a human

being, as was Ellen Estabrook. The whole thing constituted a fine

problem for the brain of Manape.

* * * * *

If Manape were to attempt first aid for Apeman, how would such a sight

react upon Ellen Estabrook? If Manape were to attempt to take Apeman

back to Caleb Barter, leading the way for Ellen, would she follow, and

what would his action tell her? She would think herself demented,

imagining things, because a great ape did things which only human

beings were supposedly capable of doing.

If she knew, of course, it would make a difference. But she did not,

and Bentley had no means by which to inform her. That was a problem

for the future. Ellen was sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion and

he felt that he could safely leave her for the moment while he swung

Apeman down from the tree. He must work fast, and return for Ellen

before the great apes discovered the helpless Apeman at the foot of

the tree. He hoped to get Ellen down while she slept, knowing that she

would be in mortal fear of him if she wakened and found herself in his

power.

Bentley got Apeman down, and looked about him. No apes were close

enough, as far as he could tell, to molest Apeman before Bentley could

return with Ellen. He raced back into the tree, lifted Ellen so gently

that she scarcely altered the even motion of her breathing--and for a

moment he hesitated. So close to him were her tired lips. So

woe-begone and pathetic her appearance, a great well of pity for her

rose in the heart of Bentley--or what was the seat of this emotion

within him? Was the brain the seat of the emotions? Or the heart? But

Bentley's true heart was in Apeman's human body, so there must be some

other explanation for the feeling which grew and grew within Bentley

for Ellen.

He leaned forward with the intention of touching his lips to the tired

thin lips of Ellen Estabrook, then drew back in horror.

How could he kiss this woman whom he loved with the gross lips of

Manape, the great ape?

He could, of course, but suppose she wakened at his caress and saw the

great figure of the jungle brute, with all man's emotions and desires,

yet with none of man's restraint--bending over her? Women had gone

insane over less.

* * * * *

He hurried down with Ellen, and placed her beside Apeman.

By now the great apes had discovered the strange trio and were coming

close to investigate. There was a huge brute who came the fastest and

seemed to be the leader of the apes, if any they had. But even this

one did not offer a challenge, did not seem perturbed in the least.

But he did seem filled with childish curiosity. The apes themselves

were like children, children grown to monstrous proportions, advancing

and retreating, staring at this trio, darting away when Apeman or

Ellen made some sort of movement.

Bentley could sense too their curiosity where he was concerned. Their

senses told them that Bentley was a great ape. Their instincts,

however, made them hesitate, uncertain as to his true "identity"--or

so Bentley imagined.

Ellen still slept, but she must have sensed the near presence of

potential enemies, for she was stirring fitfully, preparing to waken.

What would her reaction be when she opened her eyes to see Manape near

her, standing guard over Apeman, with the jungle on all sides filled

with the lurking nightmare figures of other great apes?

A moan of anguish came from Apeman. He stirred, and groans which

seemed to rack his whole white bruised body came forth. The brain of

the ape was reacting to the suffering of Bentley's body--and a brute

was whimpering with its hurts. The advancing apes came to pause. They

seemed to stare at one another in amazement. They were suddenly

frightened, amazed, unable to understand the thing they saw and were

listening to. Bentley crouched there, watching the apes, and he

fancied he could understand their sudden new hesitancy.

* * * * *

He did not know, but he guessed that the moans and groans of Apeman

were comprehensible to the great apes. They knew that this strangely

white creature was an ape, though he looked like a man. Already they

had wondered as much as they were capable, about Manape. They had

sensed something not simian about him which puzzled them.

But from the lips of Apeman, to add to their mystification, came the

groans and moans of an ape that was suffering. Bentley held his

position, wondering what they would do. That they meant no harm he was

sure, else they would long since have charged and overborne the

three--unless they remembered the super-simian might of Manape and

were afraid to attack again. Bentley hoped so, for that would make

things easier for them all.

Now the nearest apes were almost beside the body of Apeman, which was

still covered with agony sweat. The lips emitted moans and faint blurs

of gibberish. Bentley noted that the leading ape was a great she. The

female came forward hesitantly, making strange sounds in her throat,

and it seemed to Bentley that Apeman answered them. For the she came

forward with the barest trace of hesitancy, stared for a moment at

Manape, with a sort of challenge in her savage little red eyes, then

dropped to all fours beside Apeman and began to lick his wounds!

The she knew something of the injuries of Apeman and was doing what

instinct told her to do for him. Now the rest of the apes were all

about them--and Ellen wakened with a shrill cry of terror.

Bentley remained as a man turned to stone. If he moved toward the

woman he loved she would flee from him in terror--out among the other

apes and into the jungle where she would have no slightest chance for

life. If he did nothing she might still run.

* * * * *

Wildly she looked about her. She screamed again when she saw the she

bending over the travesty she thought to be Bentley, and licking the

poor bruised body. Ellen cast a sidelong look at Manape, and there was

something distinctly placating in her eyes. She recognized Manape, and

wanted his friendship. What thoughts crowded her brain as she realized

that she was in the center of a group of anthropoids who could have

destroyed her with their fingers in a matter of seconds!

She did the one thing which proved to Bentley that she was worthy of

any man's love. The great she who licked the wounds of Apeman was

thrice the size of Ellen. Yet Ellen crawled to Apeman, little sounds

of pity in her throat. Instantly the snarling of the she sent her

back. The she had, for the time being at least, assumed proprietorship

of Apeman, and was bidding Ellen keep her distance. And the she meant

it, too. For she bared her fighting fangs when Ellen again approached

close enough to have touched the body of Apeman.

This time the she advanced a step toward the girl, and her snarl was a

terrible sound. Ellen retreated, but no further than was necessary to

still that snarl in the throat of the she. Manape moved in quite close

now, into position to interfere if the she tried to actually injure

Ellen Estabrook. If only, Bentley thought, there were some way of

making himself known to Ellen! But how could she believe, even if a

way were discovered?

"What shall I do?" moaned Ellen aloud, wringing her hands. "Poor Lee!

I can't move him. That brute won't let me touch him. Oh, I'm afraid!"

Bentley wanted to tell her not to be afraid, but had learned from

experience that when he tried to speak his voice was the bellowing one

of a great ape. And if he were to enunciate words that Ellen could

understand, what then? English from the lips of a giant anthropoid!

She would not believe, would think herself insane--and with excellent

reason. Slowly, as matters were transpiring, she had already been

given sufficient reason to believe that her mind was tottering.

* * * * *

Manape stood guard over her. A she had adopted the thing she thought

was Bentley. A score of great apes, which only three days ago had

tried to destroy both Bentley and herself, now surrounded Bentley and

Ellen with all the appearance of amity--crude, true, but

unmistakable. Certainly this was sufficiently beyond all human

experience to make Ellen believe she were in the throes of some awful

nightmare. What would she think if an ape began to address her in

English, and "Bentley" suddenly held speech with the great apes?

Add to this possibility, suppose she were suddenly confronted with the

truth--that the essential entities of Bentley and Manape had been

exchanged, and the whole thing were explained to her from the gross

lips of Manape himself, while "Bentley" looked on and chattered a

challenge in ape language while Manape talked?

No, at first she might have understood. Now it would have been even

more horrifying for her to hear the truth. She must think what she

would, and be allowed to adjust herself to the astounding state of

affairs. Apeman could not be moved for some time. Ellen would not

leave him, naturally. Nor would Manape. And the apes apparently

intended to remain with them. Which made the problem, after all, a

simple one. The trio must remain for the time being among the great

apes. They needed one another in a strange way, and they needed the

apes themselves, which were like a formidable army at their backs, as

protection against the other beasts of the wilds.

Bentley watched the great she continue her rude first aid for Apeman.

Apeman was still moaning, though less fitfully, like a child that

nuzzles the milk bottle, but is drifting away into sleep. The she gave

the travesty her full attention. There was something horribly human

about her maternal care of this creature before her. Her great arms

held Apeman close while her tongue caressed his wounds. Bentley knew

that that tongue was an excellent antiseptic, too. All animals licked

their own wounds, and those wounds healed. Only human beings knew the

dangers of infection, because they had departed from Nature's

doctrines and had tried to cheat her with substitutes. Only the

animals, like that great she, still were Nature's children, healing

their own wounds in Nature's way.

* * * * *

Satisfied that the apes would not molest Ellen, so long as she kept

her distance from Apeman, Bentley decided to seek food, which Ellen

must sorely need. The need for water was urgent, too. Bentley knew the

danger of drinking water found in the jungle--but an ape could

scarcely be expected to build a fire with which to boil the water, nor

to produce a miracle in the shape of something to hold it in over the

fire.

Here were many makeshifts indicated, then. Bentley smiled inwardly,

the only way he could smile. He must feed himself, too. He must go

wandering through the woods, feeding the body of Manape with grubs,

worms and such nauseous provender, because it was the food to which

Manape was accustomed. Apeman, when he was well enough to eat, would

sicken the body of Bentley with the same sort of food, because the

brain of Apeman would not know what was good or bad for the body of a

human being--nor even would understand that his body was human. What

_did_ Apeman think of his condition, anyway?

That question, of course, would never be answered--unless Barter could

really speak the language of the great apes and somehow managed to

secure from Apeman, if Apeman lived, a recital of these hours in the

jungle.

What food should Manape secure for Ellen? What fruits were edible,

what poisonous? How could he tell? He watched the other apes, which

were scattering here and there now, tipping over rocks and sticks to

search for grubs and worms--to see what fruits they ate, if any. They

would know what fruits to avoid.

An hour passed before Bentley saw one of the brutes feed upon anything

except insects. A cluster of a peculiar fruit which looked like wild

currants, but whose real name Bentley did not know. Now, feeling safe

in his choice, because the ape was eating the berries with relish,

Bentley searched until he found a quantity of the same berries, and

bore them back to Ellen Estabrook.

* * * * *

Beside Apeman, who now was awake and exchanging crazy gibberish with

the she who had licked his wounds, Ellen Estabrook, trying to be

brave, did not cry aloud. But her face was dirty, and her tears made

furrows through the grime.

Manape dropped the berries beside her. The she snarled as Ellen

reached for the berries. Manape flung himself forward as the she

strove to take the berries before Ellen could grasp them--and cuffed

her over backward with a cumbersome but lightning-fast right swing.

"Manape," said Ellen, "if only you could talk! I feel that you are my

friend, and my fears are less when you are with me. I'll pretend that

you can understand me. It helps a little to talk, for one scarcely

seems so much alone. How would you feel, I wonder, Manape, if you were

suddenly taken entirely out of the life you've always known, and

forced to live in another world entirely? It would not be easy to be

brave, would it? Suppose you were taken out of the wilds and dropped

into a ballroom?"

Bentley could have laughed had the jest not been such a grim one. What

would Ellen think if he were to answer her:

"I would be much more at home in that ballroom than that thing on the

ground that you love--as matters are at this moment!"

She would not understand that.

Nor did she understand when the she went away for a time and came back

with a supply of worms and grubs--which nauseous supply vanished with

great speed under the wolfish appetite of Apeman. There was little

wonder that Ellen found it difficult to orient herself.

"I must tell her somehow," thought Bentley, "and that soon. Surely

enough has been done to satisfy the devilish curiosity of Caleb

Barter."

Toward evening the apes began to drift further into the jungle. The

she gathered Apeman in her arms and moved off with him. There was

nothing for Manape to do but follow, and nothing for Ellen to do but

follow, too--if she loved the thing she thought was Bentley. She did

not hesitate.

With unfaltering courage she followed on, and the lumbering forms of

the great apes drifted further away from the sea, seemingly headed

toward some mutely agreed upon jungle rendezvous. Everything depended

for the time upon the return to health of Apeman. All other matters

depended upon that. Each in his own way, Manape and Ellen, realized

this. Caleb Barter had schemed better than he could possibly have

foreseen.