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Updated: May 16, 2025
D'Arnot walked to the door and looked out. Tarzan was nowhere in sight. He called aloud but there was no response. "MON DIEU!" exclaimed D'Arnot, "he has left me. I feel it. He has gone back into his jungle and left me here alone."
Again he tried to converse with his strange nurse, but the attempt was useless. Suddenly the man hastened from the shelter only to return a few minutes later with several pieces of bark and wonder of wonders a lead pencil. Squatting beside D'Arnot he wrote for a minute on the smooth inner surface of the bark; then he handed it to the Frenchman.
They sat beneath the shade of a great tree, and Tarzan found some smooth bark that they might converse. D'Arnot wrote the first message: What can I do to repay you for all that you have done for me? And Tarzan, in reply: Teach me to speak the language of men.
Squeezing a drop of ink onto the glass, he spread it back and forth with the rubber roller until the entire surface of the glass was covered to his satisfaction with a very thin and uniform layer of ink. "Place the four fingers of your right hand upon the glass, thus," he said to D'Arnot. "Now the thumb. That is right.
They were interested spectators of this strange ending of a strange duel. None spoke until De Coude had quite finished, then he looked up at Tarzan. "You are a very brave and chivalrous gentleman," he said. "I thank God that I did not kill you." De Coude was a Frenchman. Frenchmen are impulsive. He threw his arms about Tarzan and embraced him. Monsieur Flaubert embraced D'Arnot.
"Your Paris is more dangerous than my savage jungles, Paul," concluded Tarzan, after narrating his adventures to his friend the morning following his encounter with the apaches and police in the Rue Maule. "Why did they lure me there? Were they hungry?" D'Arnot feigned a horrified shudder, but he laughed at the quaint suggestion.
The leaping savages, the flickering firelight playing upon their painted bodies, circled about the victim at the stake. To Tarzan's memory came a similar scene, when he had rescued D'Arnot from a like predicament at the last moment before the final spear-thrust should have ended his sufferings. Who was there now to rescue him?
That night he wrote several letters before he retired. After sealing and addressing them he placed them all in an envelope addressed to D'Arnot. As he undressed D'Arnot heard him humming a music-hall ditty. The Frenchman swore under his breath. He was very unhappy, for he was positive that when the sun rose the next morning it would look down upon a dead Tarzan.
"This little mark," he said, "is many times larger upon this map than your cabin is upon the earth. Do you see now how very far it is?" Tarzan thought for a long time. "Do any white men live in Africa?" he asked. "Yes." "Where are the nearest?" D'Arnot pointed out a spot on the shore just north of them. "So close?" asked Tarzan, in surprise. "Yes," said D'Arnot; "but it is not close."
He tried to piece out the details of his adventure prior to the time he lost consciousness to see if they would explain his present whereabouts he wondered if he were among friends or foes. At length he recollected the whole hideous scene at the stake, and finally recalled the strange white figure in whose arms he had sunk into oblivion. D'Arnot wondered what fate lay in store for him now.
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