Bride of the Serpent God | Page 6

breed. Slavering in disgruntlement, the jackal padded up to the bank and lapped thirstily. After a full minute, it raised its head nervously and snuffled at the air. The fur on the animal's back bristled up at the scent of man, and after a slight wait, the gray form watchfully moved to follow the scent. The evil ghost crept within cautious yards of Ki-Gor. The savage brain of the animal sought out and weighed the man's hurt, balancing the risk of attack against possible gain for its grumbling belly.
The still form of the Jungle Lord, with its fresh blood scent, stimulated beyond endurance the greedy gnawing of the beast's stomach.
The jackal, sensing life in the sprawling body, fought to down its fear of man. With quiet, nervous steps it padded a wide ring around Ki-Gor, its teeth grinning whitely as rising hunger tried to force courage into its cowardly heart.
The soft, early-morning wind caught the strong smell of the beast and brought it to Ki-Gor's nostrils. For the first time since he had crawled out of the water, the bronzed giant stirred. He shifted uneasily, but did not waken. The jackal tensed at this movement and stood head pointed at the man. Again the strong jackal scent poured into Ki-Gor's consciousness. A primal protective sense shook his nerves from their stunned lethargy, and his gray eyes flickered open.
Urged by the strong scent of danger, Ki-Gor struggled to focus his eyes. His vision in the faint light of dawn formed only a confusing, colorless blur. The jackal growled, sensing the helplessness of the man. Under the stimulus of this noise, Ki-Gor made out the menacing figure of the scavenger, the beast's form swimming in outline against a weaving, shifting background. The jackal girded its courage to the maximum and advanced with stiff, bristling steps toward the Jungle Lord. Ki-Gor could see now the white fangs of the hated skulker, and a wave of sheer anger at this most cowardly of all beasts churned enough strength into his legs to heave the Jungle Lord to his feet.
He stood there weaving, fighting off waves of nausea. Try as he might, Ki-Gor could not make his feet respond to his will. With bare hands he tried to advance, but he was unable to walk. The jackal slowed its advance, and then halted. A fallen man was one thing, but an aroused one, even though wounded, was another matter. The animal debated, emitting low snarls, and then as Ki-Gor at last achieved a staggering step forward, the jackal leaped back, and with one last growling outburst, turned and darted away.
Ki-Gor watched the animal disappear. Abruptly the swimming blur closed over his vision again as the sense of danger faded. A numbness crept over the Jungle Lord, and with a sense of great effort, he slipped to his knees and awkwardly stretched out in the wet grass. Dull, aching sleep came over him, and his mind shut itself off from the stirring daylight world.
When the Jungle Lord next roused, the sun stood high in the sky, its scorching rays beating directly on his now dry and feverish body. He sat up. He looked about him with heavy-lidded eyes, puzzled eyes that sought an understanding of his present predicament. Slowly he lifted an exploratory hand and felt his aching head, probing the gash there.
His brows furrowed in thought, but the terrific blows dealt him had blocked the delicate memory mechanism. Events of not only the past few days, but of the past years, refused to come. The cruel blow had cut Ki-Gor off from the past, cutting away from him at the same time the acquired veneer of civilization which contact with Helene and others of the outer world had brought him.
He stood up and drew a deep breath into his great lungs. Already his marvelous recuperative powers were at work restoring power and strength to his hard muscles. In a few days, with the proper rest and no untoward accidents, he would be as sound and vigorous as before. But there was a vague uneasiness in his mind for he sensed that all was not well. He tried to reach back through the curtain which had fallen so suddenly and grasp at the memories which troubled him, but which he could not pluck from his subconscious.
Ki-Gor shook his aching head and glanced around him. His eyes halted on the inviting water of the river. He walked to the bank and washed the caked blood and grime from his head and shoulders. Then he drank deeply. Refreshed, the big man rose and went at a slow gait toward the rising wall of the jungle. He walked into the darkening shadows of the trees for a distance of about one-hundred yards, and then, selecting a towering giant of