King of Fang and Claw | Page 8

the huge leopard, with its
jaws agape, had leaped at him, David had not shown even the slightest,
instinctive fear.
Rand recalled the youngster's delight in the monkeys and birds and
lizards with which the clearing abounded. And now a strange thought
flitted through his mind. It was so elusive that he could not quite grasp
it; but had he been able to do so, he would have realized that to young
David the beasts of the jungle were companions and friends. Something
within the child responded to them and he knew them, trusted and
loved them.
Instead of trying to answer his son's accusation, he patted the
youngster's head and for the rest of the day, he was a very thoughtful
man.
And so, with death ever at their elbows, Rand and his family continued
to survive in the heart of the African wilderness. Roots, berries, strange

fruits and the game which was always plentiful fed them. Every day
parts of the wrecked plane were added to the original lean-to, until they
were housed in a safe and comfortable dwelling. Water and fuel were
within easy reach. David's skin bronzed until in the tattered remnants of
his clothing he resembled a sturdy young savage. And while his parents
became merely reconciled to their strange environment. he fell more
and more under its spell.
Boredom never exised there, for constant dangers kept them ever on the
alert. There was the time when David's restless feet took him too close
to a slender, emerald-green snake, sunning itself on a tangle of roots.
The reptile hissed a sibilant warning and then uncoiled with the
suddenness of a broken spring. Swift as it struck, John Rand was a
fraction of a second faster. He knocked the youngster sprawling as be
leaped forward and the snake buried its dripping fangs in the tough
leather of his high boots. Snatching the automatic from his hip, he fired
three times in rapid succession and the snake threshed wildly in its
death throes.
Again David reproached his father and no graphic description of the
reptile's deadliness could change the boy's attitude. He mourned the
passing of a fellow denizen of the wild.
They heard the distant trumpeting of an elephant herd and one day
Rand, hunting in the jungle depths for game, Was startled by a loud
crashing through the lower branches of the trees. The sound was made
by a tribe of great apes on their migration to new feeding grounds and
twice he caught glimpses of dark, flat-nosed faces peering through the
leafy boughs.
At night great cats prowled on padded feet around their dwelling. They
could hear the sniffing of curious and hungry beasts and the loaded rifle
was never far beyond Rand's reach.
Often they laid awake far into the night while in low voice Constance
made plans for the day when she would be able to travel. To please her,
Rand discussed in detail their possible routes, the equipment they
would need and the minimum amount of provision they could carry.

But he was grateful for the darkness that hid his face from hers, while
she talked of Cairo, of friends in far-off London, and in Johannesburg.
For she was mending slowly--very slowly. And though the broken
bones were knitting at last, she was growing wan and weak. Knowing
the courage and the will within her slender body, he blamed it on the
enervating climate. The damp, steaming miasma seemed to sap all
strength from her. She grew thin and violet shadows made hollows
under her eyes.
His fears for her were justified. The day came when she complained of
a racking headache. And soon she was consumed by a raging fever.
Rand was dismayed. He had seen the ravages of mysterious tropical
maladies before. He dosed her from the quinine supply of the medical
kit that he had carefully guarded. But her weakened body did not
respond. Shaken by alternate spells of burning fever and chills that
made her tremble from head to foot, she grew steadily worse. Rand
stayed constantly by her side and David listened wide-eyed when his
mother began to ramble incoherently about the home that she had left.
Late one night, after a fitful, restless sleep, she woke to find her
husband still keeping vigil beside her. She smiled up at him.
"Faithful John," she murmured.
Her voice was low and husky, but sane. Rand placed a cool hand on her
fevered brow. "You're better," he said eagerly. "You know, I think
you've passed the crisis."
Constance smiled again but shook her head. A strange soft light glowed
in her deep-set eyes. "No, John. I-- I'm going to die--very soon."
An expression of anguish crossed his face, then he forced a laugh from
his lips. "Nonsense." He leaned over