
Chapter 4 of the Serial:

THE MONSTER MEN
  by Edgar Rice Burroughs

CHAPTER 4, A NEW FACE

As Professor Maxon and von Horn rushed from the workshop to their own 
campong, they neglected, in their haste, to lock the door between, and 
for the first time since the camp was completed it stood unlatched and 
ajar.

The professor had been engaged in taking careful measurements of the head 
of his latest experiment, the while he coached the young man in the first 
rudiments of spoken language, and now the subject of his labors found 
himself suddenly deserted and alone. He had not yet been without the four 
walls of the workshop, as the professor had wished to keep him from 
association with the grotesque results of his earlier experiments, and
now a natural curiosity tempted him to approach the door through which his 
creator and the man with the bull whip had so suddenly disappeared.

He saw before him a great walled enclosure roofed by a lofty azure dome, 
and beyond the walls the tops of green trees swaying gently in the soft 
breezes. His nostrils tasted the incense of fresh earth and growing
things. For the first time he felt the breath of Nature, free and 
unconfined, upon his brow.

He drew his giant frame to its full height and drank in the freedom and 
the sweetness of it all, filling his great lungs to their fullest; and 
with the first taste he learned to hate the close and stuffy confines 
of his prison.

His virgin mind was filled with wonder at the wealth of new impressions 
which surged to his brain through every sense. He longed for more, and 
the open gateway of the campong was a scarce needed invitation to pass to 
the wide world beyond. With the free and easy tread of utter 
unconsciousness of self, he passed across the enclosure and stepped out 
into the clearing which lay between the palisade and the jungle.

Ah, here was a still more beautiful world!  The green leaves nodded to 
him, and at their invitation he came and the jungle reached out its 
million arms to embrace him. Now before him, behind, on either side there 
was naught but glorious green beauty shot with splashes of gorgeous color 
that made him gasp in wonderment.

Brilliant birds rose from amidst it all, skimming hither and thither above 
his head--he thought that the flowers and the birds were the same, and 
when he reached out and plucked a blossom, tenderly, he wondered that it 
did not flutter in his hand. On and on he walked, but slowly, for he must 
not miss a single sight in the strange and wonderful place; and then,
of a sudden, the quiet beauty of the scene was harshly broken by the 
crashing of a monster through the underbrush.

Number Thirteen was standing in a little open place in the jungle when 
the discordant note first fell upon his ears, and as he turned his head 
in the direction of the sound he was startled at the hideous aspect of 
the thing which broke through the foliage before him.

What a horrid creature!  But on the same instant his eyes fell upon 
another borne in the arms of the terrible one. This one was different
-- very different, -- soft and beautiful and white. He wondered what it 
all meant, for everything was strange and new to him; but when he saw 
the eyes of the lovely one upon him, and her arms outstretched toward him, 
though he did not understand the words upon her lips, he knew that she was 
in distress. Something told him that it was the ugly thing that carried 
her that was the author of her suffering.

Virginia Maxon had been half unconscious from fright when she suddenly saw 
a white man, clothed in coarse, white, native pajamas, confronting her and 
the misshapen beast that was bearing her away to what frightful fate she 
could but conjecture.

At the sight of the man her voice returned with returning hope, and she 
reached her arms toward him, calling upon him to save her. Although he 
did not respond she thought that he understood for he sprang toward them 
before her appeal was scarce uttered.

As before, when Sing had threatened to filch his new possession from him, 
Number One held the girl with one hand while he met the attack of this new 
assailant with the other; but here was very different metal than had
succumbed to him before.

It is true that Number Thirteen knew nothing whatever of personal combat, 
but Number One had but little advantage of him in the matter of experience, 
while the former was equipped with great natural intelligence as well as 
steel muscles no whit less powerful than his deformed predecessor.

So it was that the awful giant found his single hand helpless to cope with 
the strength of his foeman, and in a brief instant felt powerful fingers 
clutching at his throat. Still reluctant to surrender his hold upon his 
prize, he beat futilely at the face of his enemy, but at last the agony 
of choking compelled him to drop the girl and grapple madly with the man 
who choked him with one hand and rained mighty and merciless blows upon 
his face and head with the other.

His captive sank to the ground, too weak from the effects of nervous shock 
to escape, and with horror-filled eyes watched the two who battled over 
her. She saw that her would-be rescuer was young and strong featured--all 
together a very fine specimen of manhood; and to her great wonderment it 
was soon apparent that he was no unequal match for the great mountain of
muscle that he fought.

Both tore and struck and clawed and bit in the frenzy of mad, untutored 
strife, rolling about on the soft carpet of the jungle almost noiselessly 
except for their heavy breathing and an occasional beast-like snarl from 
Number One. For several minutes they fought thus until the younger man 
succeeded in getting both hands upon the throat of his adversary, and 
then, choking relentlessly, he raised the brute with him from the ground 
and rushed him fiercely backward against the stem of a tree. Again and 
again he hurled the monstrous thing upon the unyielding wood, until at 
last it hung helpless and inert in his clutches, then he cast it from 
him, and without another glance at it turned toward the girl.

Here was a problem indeed. Now that he had won her, what was he to do 
with her?  He was but an adult child, with the brain and brawn of a man, 
and the ignorance and inexperience of the new-born. And so he acted as a
child acts, in imitation of what it has seen others do. The brute had 
been carrying the lovely creature, therefore that must be the thing for 
him to do, and so he stooped and gathered Virginia Maxon in his great arms.

She tried to tell him that she could walk after a moment's rest, but it 
was soon evident that he did not understand her, as a puzzled expression 
came to his face and he did not put her down as she asked. Instead he 
stood irresolute for a time, and then moved slowly through the jungle. 
By chance his direction was toward the camp, and this fact so relieved 
the girl's mind that presently she was far from loath to remain quietly 
in his arms.

After a moment she gained courage to look up into his face. She thought 
that she never had seen so marvellously clean cut features, or a more 
high and noble countenance, and she wondered how it was that this white 
man was upon the island and she not have known it. Possibly he was a 
new arrival--his presence unguessed even by her father. That he was 
neither English nor American was evident from the fact that he could 
not understand her native tongue. Who could he be! What was he doing 
upon their island!

As she watched his face he suddenly turned his eyes down upon her, and as 
she looked hurriedly away she was furious with herself as she felt a 
crimson flush mantle her cheek. The man only half sensed, in a vague sort
of way, the meaning of the tell tale color and the quickly averted eyes; 
but he became suddenly aware of the pressure of her delicate body against 
his, as he had not been before. Now he kept his eyes upon her face as he 
walked, and a new emotion filled his breast. He did not understand it, 
but it was very pleasant, and he knew that it was because of the radiant 
thing that he carried in his arms.

The scream that had startled von Horn and Professor Maxon led them along 
the trail toward the east coast of the island, and about halfway of the 
distance they stumbled upon the dazed and bloody Sing just as he was on 
the point of regaining consciousness.

"For God's sake, Sing, what is the matter?" cried von Horn. "Where is 
Miss Maxon?"

"Big blute, he catchem Linee. Tly kill Sing. Head hit tlee. No see any 
more. Wakee up--all glone," moaned the Chinaman as he tried to gain his 
feet.

"Which way did he take her?" urged von Horn.

Sing's quick eyes scanned the surrounding jungle, and in a moment, 
staggering to his feet, he cried, "Look see, klick!  Foot plint!" and 
ran, weak and reeling drunkenly, along the broad trail made by the 
giant creature and its prey.

Von Horn and Professor Maxon followed closely in Sing's wake, the 
younger man horrified by the terrible possibilities that obtruded 
themselves into his imagination despite his every effort to assure 
himself that no harm could come to Virginia Maxon before they
reached her. The girl's father had not spoken since they discovered 
that she was missing from the campong, but his face was white and 
drawn; his eyes wide and glassy as those of one whose mind is on the 
verge of madness from a great nervous shock.

The trail of the creature was bewilderingly erratic. A dozen paces 
straight through the underbrush, then a sharp turn at right angles for 
no apparent reason, only to veer again suddenly in a new direction! Thus,
turning and twisting, the tortuous way led them toward the south end of 
the island, until Sing, who was in advance, gave a sharp cry of surprise.

"Klick! Look see!" he cried excitedly. "Blig blute dead--vely muchee dead."

Von Horn rushed forward to where the Chinaman was leaning over the body 
of Number One. Sure enough, the great brute lay motionless, its horrid 
face even more hideous in death than in life, if it were possible. The 
face was black, the tongue protruded, the skin was bruised from the heavy 
fists of his assailant and the thick skull crushed and splintered from 
terrific impact with the tree.

Professor Maxon leaned over von Horn's shoulder. "Ah, poor Number 
One," he sighed, "that you should have come to such an untimely 
end--my child, my child."

Von Horn looked at him, a tinge of compassion in his rather hard 
face. It touched the man that his employer was at last shocked from 
the obsession of his work to a realization of the love and duty he 
owed his daughter; he thought that the professor's last words referred to
Virginia.

"Though there are twelve more," continued Professor Maxon, "you were 
my first born son and I loved you most, dear child."

The younger man was horrified.

"My God, Professor!" he cried. "Are you mad?  Can you call this thing 
`child' and mourn over it when you do not yet know the fate of your 
own daughter?"

Professor Maxon looked up sadly. "You do not understand, Dr. von Horn," 
he replied coldly, "and you will oblige me, in the future, by not again 
referring to the offspring of my labors as `things.'"

With an ugly look upon his face von Horn turned his back upon the 
older man--what little feeling of loyalty and affection he had ever 
felt for him gone forever. Sing was looking about for evidences of 
the cause of Number One's death and the probable direction in which
Virginia Maxon had disappeared.

"What on earth could have killed this enormous brute, Sing? Have you 
any idea?" asked von Horn.

The Chinaman shook his head.

"No savvy," he replied. "Blig flight. Look see," and he pointed to 
the torn and trampled turf, the broken bushes, and to one or two small 
trees that had been snapped off by the impact of the two mighty bodies 
that had struggled back and forth about the little clearing.

"This way," cried Sing presently, and started off once more into the 
brush, but this time in a northwesterly direction, toward camp.

In silence the three men followed the new trail, all puzzled beyond 
measure to account for the death of Number One at the hands of what must 
have been a creature of superhuman strength. What could it have been!  
It was impossible that any of the Malays or lascars could have done the 
thing, and there were no other creatures, brute or human, upon the island 
large enough to have coped even for an instant with the ferocious 
brutality of the dead monster, except--von Horn's brain came to a sudden 
halt at the thought. Could it be?  There seemed no other explanation.
Virginia Maxon had been rescued from one soulless monstrosity to fall 
into the hands of another equally irresponsible and terrifying.

Others then must have escaped from the campong. Von Horn loosened his 
guns in their holsters, and took a fresh grip upon his bull whip as he
urged Sing forward upon the trail. He wondered which one it was, but 
not once did it occur to him that the latest result of Professor Maxon's 
experiments could be the rescuer of Virginia Maxon. In his mind he
could see only the repulsive features of one of the others.

Quite unexpectedly they came upon the two, and with a shout von Horn 
leaped forward, his bull whip upraised. Number Thirteen turned in surprise 
at the cry, and sensing a new danger for her who lay in his arms, he set 
her gently upon the ground behind him and advanced to meet his assailant.

"Out of the way, you--monstrosity," cried von Horn. "If you have harmed 
Miss Maxon I'll put a bullet in your heart!"

Number Thirteen did not understand the words that the other 
addressed to him but he interpreted the man's actions as menacing, 
not to himself, but to the creature he now considered his particular 
charge; and so he met the advancing man, more to keep him from the girl 
than to offer him bodily injury for he recognized him as one of the two 
who had greeted his first dawning consciousness.

Von Horn, possibly intentionally, misinterpreted the other's motive, 
and raising his bull whip struck Number Thirteen a vicious cut across 
the face, at the same time levelling his revolver point blank at the 
broad beast. But before ever he could pull the trigger an avalanche
of muscle was upon him, and he went down to the rotting vegetation of 
the jungle with five sinewy fingers at his throat.

His revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and then another hand 
wrenched it from him and hurled it far into the underbrush. Number 
Thirteen knew nothing of the danger of firearms, but the noise had 
startled him and his experience with the stinging cut of the bull
whip convinced him that this other was some sort of instrument of 
torture of which it would be as well to deprive his antagonist.

Virginia Maxon looked on in horror as she realized that her rescuer 
was quickly choking Dr. von Horn to death. With a little cry she 
sprang to her feet and ran toward them, just as her father emerged 
from the underbrush through which he had been struggling in the trail 
of the agile Chinaman and von Horn. Placing her hand upon the great
wrist of the giant she tried to drag his fingers from von Horn's throat, 
pleading meanwhile with both voice and eyes for the life of the man 
she thought loved her.

Again Number Thirteen translated the intent without understanding the 
words, and releasing von Horn permitted him to rise. With a bound he 
was upon his feet and at the same instant brought his other gun from
his side and levelled it upon the man who had released him; but as his 
finger tightened upon the trigger Virginia Maxon sprang between them and 
grasping von Horn's wrist deflected the muzzle of the gun just as the 
cartridge exploded. Simultaneously Professor Maxon sprang from his grasp
and hurled him back with the superhuman strength of a maniac.

"Fool!" he cried. "What would you do?  Kill--," and then of a sudden he 
realized his daughter's presence and the necessity for keeping the 
origin of the young giant from her knowledge.

"I am surprised at you, Dr. von Horn," he continued in a more level 
voice. "You must indeed have forgotten yourself to thus attack a 
stranger upon our island until you know whether he be friend or foe. 
Come! Escort my daughter to the camp, while I make the proper apologies 
to this gentleman."  As he saw that both Virginia and von Horn hesitated, 
he repeated his command in a peremptory tone, adding; "Quick, now; do as 
I bid you."

The moment had given von Horn an opportunity to regain his self-control, 
and realizing as well as did his employer, but from another motive, the 
necessity of keeping the truth from the girl, he took her arm and led her 
gently from the scene. At Professor Maxon's direction Sing accompanied them.

Now in Number Thirteen's brief career he had known no other authority 
than Professor Maxon's, and so it was that when his master laid a hand 
upon his wrist he remained beside him while another walked away with the 
lovely creature he had thought his very own.

Until after dark the professor kept the young man hidden in the jungle, 
and then, safe from detection, led him back to the laboratory.

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  End Chapter 4 -- THE MONSTER MEN. Get the next issue of RUNE'S RAG 
for the exciting continuation of this story by Edgar Rice Burroughs.
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  Edgar Rice Burroughs has influenced writers and readers for the past
three generations, with well over 100 million books produced because of 
his fertile imagination; this offering is a presentation to those who 
are unfamiliar with his work -- other than the TARZAN series.
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