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Chapter 8: Bound to the Stake · The Eternal Savage

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Section twenty one of The Eternal Savage by Edgar Rice Burroughs. This LibriVox recording
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is in the public domain, Chapter eight bound to the stake Nu, the
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son of Nu, half stunned by the paddle of tur still managed to keep
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afloat until he partially regained his senses. Then, seeing the futility of further
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attempt to overtake the boat in which Nadoul was being borne towards the mainland,
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he struck out for the shore of the island. For a while, he
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lay upon the hot sand, resting. Then he arose looking out across the
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water. Far in the distance, he could see a tiny speck approaching the
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opposite shore. It must be the boat in which Nahoul had been carried off.
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Nu mark the spot. In the distance, a lofty mountain peak reared
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its head far inland. Nu bethought himself of the boat that had brought him
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to the island. He looked out to the sea for it, but it
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was not in sight. There he walked along the beach, beyond a heap
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of wave washed boulders, he came upon the thing he sought. He could
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have shouted aloud, so elated was he there before him laid the boat,
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and in it was the paddle. He ran forward and pulled it up upon
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the beach. Then he hurried back to the spot at which he had discarded
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his robe and axe, and after regaining them, returned to the dugout.
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A moment more saw him floundering out through the surf. He leapt into the
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craft, seized the paddle, and struck out for the far off shore line.
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With paddle and axe and stone knife, he fought off the marauders of
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the sea. The journey was marked by a series of duels and battles that
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greatly impeded the man's progress, but he was not discouraged. He was accustomed
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to nothing else. It was his life, as it was the life of
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every creature that roamed the land or haunted the deeps. In those stupendously savage
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days, it was quite dark when the heavy booming of the surf before him
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warned knew that he was close inshore. For some time he had seen the
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fires of the boat builders ahead of him, and toward these he had directed
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his way. Now his boat ran its blunt nose out upon the sand,
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one hundred yards north of the camp nu leapt out, leaving the boat where
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it lay. He doubted that he should ever have further use for it.
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But should he live to return to his people, he will lose no time
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in building a similar craft with which he should fill his father's people with awe
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and admiration about the camp of the boat builders. Asnu approached, he discovered
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the usual cordon of night prowlers that he had naturally expected, circling until he
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was down wind from the shelters. He was enabled to reach the jungle without
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being discovered by any of them more ferocious beasts. Once he had just eluded
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a ponderous cave bear that was lumbering toward the encampment in search of prey.
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And again he almost stumbled against a huge rhinoceros as it lay in the long
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grasses upon the jungle's outer fringe. But once within the jungle, he took
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to the trees, since among their branches there were few that he had reason
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to fear. The panther sometimes climbed to the lower branches, but though he
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was a mighty beast by comparison with the panther of the twentieth century, Nu
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looked upon him with contempt, since he seldom deliberately hunted man, and could
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be put to flight if not killed by a well hurled axe. Reptiles constituted
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the greatest menace to the jungle traveler, who chose the branches of the trees,
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for here often lurked enormous snakes, in whose giant coils the mightiest hunters
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were helpless as babes. To the rear of the village, New traveled through
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the trees, leaping in the dark from one huge frond to another. When
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the distance was too great to span in a single leap, he came to
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the ground, springing across the intervening space with the speed and agility of a
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deer. At last he came to the edge of the jungle, opposite the
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camp. The fires came close beneath the tree in which he hid. He
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could see the girls tending them, and further in the balance of the tribe
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squatting about their smaller cooking fires, gnawing upon bones or splitting them to extract
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the marrow. He saw the rush of the lion upon the opposite side of
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the camp. He saw him seize the old man. He saw the warriors
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leap to their feet and run toward the beast. He saw the eyes and
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attention of every member of the tribe directed toward the spot which was farthest from
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New. Even the girls who attending the fires below him ran quickly across the
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village to witness the killing of the marauder. Taking advantage of this forti ttuitous
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good fortune, New dropped quickly to the ground and ran for the shadows of
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the shelters, which were placed in a rude circle facing outward toward the outer
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circle of fires, with the result that the circular space they enclosed was in
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partial shadow. Here New threw himself upon his belly in the darkest spot he
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could find. For some time he lay motionless, listening and sniffing the air,
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as nothing rewarded his observations. At this point, he rose cautiously upon
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all fours and crept a few feet further on in the shadows of the shelters.
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Again, he lay down to listen and sniff. For half an hour,
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he pursued his slow way about the inner circle behind the dwellings. The
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inhabitants had retired, all except the girls who tended the fires. At last,
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New heard low voices coming from the interior of a shelter behind which he
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had but just crawled. He lay very quiet, with his nose a few
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inches from the bottom of the skin, and thatch hut. Presently there came
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to his sensitive nostrils. The evidence he had been seeking within was not ull,
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but there was some one with her. Cautiously, New crept around to
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the front of the shelter. Even there it was very dark, for the
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girls had permitted the fires to die down to a few fitful flames. Opposite
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the entrance. New heard Natoul's voice distinctly. He saw the form of a
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man leaning over her. He went hot with hate and rage. Like a
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beast of prey. He slunk noiselessly upon all fours into the shelter, directly
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behind the unsuspecting tur Then, without a sound, he rose to his feet
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and threw himself full upon the back of the stranger. His knife was out
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and his fighting fangs were bared as the two rolled about the floor of the
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shelter, striking, clawing, and biting at one another. At last,
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the man raised his voice in a call for help, for knew was getting
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the better of him. The long knife had not found a vital spot as
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yet, for Teur was an experienced fighter and so far had been able to
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ward off the more dangerous blows. But nevertheless he was bleeding from several wounds,
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and his throat and breast were lacerated by the other's teeth. In reply
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to his shouts, the village awoke with answering cries. Warriors bearing their short
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spears, ran from every shelter. Women and children scampered at their heels.
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Gran Turre's mate was among the first to come. She had recognized the voice
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of her man and had guessed where he might be in trouble. Like an
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angry tigress, she sprang for the shelter in which the beautiful stranger had been
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confined. Behind her came the warriors. One carried a burning brand from a
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nearby fire. He flung it into the interior, careless of where it might
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land. Fortunately for the inmates, it fell beyond them, rolling against the
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further side of the hut. Instantly, the dry fronds of the thatch that
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had been leaned against the bottom of the skins to fill in the gaps caught
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fire, and the inside of the shelter was illumined by the sudden glare of
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flames. When the rescuer saw that but a single man opposed their fellow,
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they threw themselves upon the two, and though new battle bravely, he was
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presently overcome. The entire hut was now a flame, so that his captors
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were forced to drag him outside. Here they bound his arms and legs,
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and then turned their attention to saving the balance of the village from destruction.
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This they accomplished by pulling down the blazing shelter with their spears and beating out
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the flames with fresh hides. Even in the excitement of the fight, Nu
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had not for a moment forgotten not Ul, and when the brand lighted up
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the interior, he sought for her with his eyes. Unsuccessfully. Not Hull
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had disappeared. He wondered what could have become of her. From her position
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upon the floor of the hut, he had been sure that she was securely
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bound, otherwise she would have been fighting tooth and nail against her captor.
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He looked about him, from where he lay before the ruins of the burned
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shelter. He could see nothing of her, But he saw another woman,
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a young woman with good features, but with the expression of a wild beast.
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Hate jealousy and rage were mirrored in every line of the passion distorted countenance.
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It was grone. She came toward him. Who are you, she
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cried, I am New, the son of Nu, replied the man.
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Are you of the same people as the woman in whose shelter you found?
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My man, she continued, Nu nodded affirmatively. She was to have been
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my mate, He said, where is she? For the first time,
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the woman seemed to realize the absence of the fair prisoner. She turned toward
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Teur. Where is the woman? She shrieked, Where have you hidden the
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woman? No longer shall you keep me from her? This time I shall
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tear out her heart and drink her blood. Turr looked about in consternation.
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Where is the woman? He called to the warriors, but none seemed to
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know. Immediately a search of the village commenced. The warriors ran hither and
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thither through the huts and into the enclosure. Behind them, New lay awaiting
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the outcome of the search. As it became evident that Madoul had escaped,
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his heart leapt with joy. At last, there was no other place to
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look, and all the searchers had returned. Nadoul was not in the village.
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Grand turned toward Neu. Your woman has escaped me, she shouted,
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But you shall suffer for her, And she leaped upon him. As he
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lay there, bound and defenseless. In her mad rage, she would have
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torn his eyes out had not a tall warrior interfered. He seized the woman
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by her hair, jerking her roughly from her victim. Then he swung her,
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still by the hair, brutally to the ground. Take your woman away,
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he called to tour. Does a woman rule my people? Take her
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away and beat her that she may learn that it is not a woman's place
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to interfere with the doings of men. Then take you another, mate,
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that this woman may be taught her place. Turre seized upon the unfortunate Grond
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and dragged her toward his own shelter, for which later could be heard the
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sound of a spear haft falling upon flesh, and the shrieks and moans of
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a woman. Nu was disgusted among his people. Women were not treated thus.
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He looked up, but the burly form of the chief who was standing
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over him, Well, why didn't they kill him? That was the proper
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thing to do with male prisoners. Among his own tribe. A spear thrust
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through the heart would long since have settled the fate of one in news position.
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He wondered where not Ul was. Could she find her way back to
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the tribe safely? He wished that he might live but long enough to find
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her and see her safe in her father's cave. The chief was gazing intently
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upon him, but he had as yet made no move to finish him.
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Who are you, he at length asked, I am new, the son
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of Nu, replied the prisoner. From Where do you come? Nu nodded
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toward the north, from near the barren cliffs, He replied, And should
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you go thither beat her of women, my father's tribe would fall upon you
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and kill you all. You talk big, said the chief. I talk
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truth, retorted Nu. My father's people would laugh at such as you,
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that men clothed in the skins of cows. It shows what manner of people
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you be. Now. My father's warriors wear the skins of er and zor
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and oo, and upon their feet are sandals of the hives of tah and
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glue. They are men. They would laugh as they set their women and
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children out with sticks to drive you away. This was a terrible insult.
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The chief of the boat builders trembled with rage. You shall see, he
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cried, that we are men, and the manner of your death will prove
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if you be such a brave man as you say. Tomorrow you shall die.
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After the day is done and the fires are lighted, you shall begin
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to die. But it will be long before you are dead, and all
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the time you will be crying out against the woman who bore you, and
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beg us to put you out of your misery. Nu laughed at him.
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He had heard of distant peoples who tortured their prisoners, and so he guessed
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what the chief meant to suggest. Well, he would show them how the
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sun of Nu could die. Presently, at the chief's command, a couple
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of warriors dragged new into a nearby shelter. A guard was placed before the
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door for the escape of Naotoul had warned them to greater watchfulness. The long
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night dragged itself to a slow end. The sun rose out of the restless
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sea. The villagers bestirred themselves. Nu could smell the cooking food. He
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was very hungry, but they offered him not a single morsel. He was
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thirsty, but none brought him water, and he was too proud to ask
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favors of his captors. If the night had been long, the day seemed
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an eternity, and though he knew that darkness was to be the signal for
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the commencement of the tor that were to mark his passing, he welcomed the
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first shadows of the declining sun. Whatever cruelties they might perpetrate upon him,
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could not last forever. Sooner or later he would die. And with this
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slim comfort knew the son of Nu waited for the end. The fissures had
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all returned, The outer ring of fires had been kindled, as well as
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the smaller cooking fires within. The people squatted about on their haunches, gnawing
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upon their food like beasts. At last they had completed their evening meal.
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A couple of men brought a small post, and, after scooping a hole
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in the ground with their spears, set it up half way between the shelters
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and the outer fires. Then two warriors came to the hut where New lay.
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They seized him by the feet and dragged him upon his back and shoulders
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through the village. The women and children poked him with sharp sticks threw stones
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at him and spat upon him. Knu, the son of Nu, made
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no remonstrances, not by so much as a line. Did the expression of
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utter indifference that sat his features like a mask alter in response to painful blows
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or fouled indignities. At last, his guards stopped before the post, which
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was now set firmly upright in the ground. They jerked New to his feet
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and bound him securely to the stake. In a circle. About him was
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a ring of brushwood. He knew that he was to be slowly roasted,
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for the brush was nowhere quite close enough for the flames to reach him.
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It would be a slow death, very pleasant to the eyes of the audience,
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especially if the victim gave evidence of his agonies. But it was far
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from the intention of Nu, the son of New, to afford the boat
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builders this satisfaction. He looked around upon the ring of eager, savage faces
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with bored contempt. Nu despised them not because they would call him, for
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that he might expect from any strangers, but because they wore the skins of
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cows, and the men labored instead of devoting all their time and energies to
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the chase. And to warfare. Their boats were fine to have. Nu
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had even thought of fashioning one upon his return to his people. But to
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make a business of such labor, Hugh, it was disgusting. Had he
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escaped, he should have returned to the boat builders with his father's warriors and
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taken what boats he wished. His meditations were cut short by the ceremonies which
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were going on about him. There had been dancing and a certain primitive chanting,
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And now one of the warriors lighted the brush that surrounded the victim at
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the stake. End of Section twenty one.