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CHAPTER 6
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TO KILL![1;40;31m
  by Edgar Rice Burroughs
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  The Rajah Muda Saffir, tiring of the excuses and delays which 
Bududreen interposed to postpone the fulfillment of his agreement 
with the former, whereby he was to deliver into the hands of the 
rajah a certain beautiful maiden, decided at last to act upon his 
own initiative. The truth of the matter was that he had come to suspect
the motives of the first mate of the Ithaca, and not knowing of the 
great chest attributed them to Bududreen's desire to possess the girl 
for himself.

  So it was that as the second mate of the Ithaca with his six men 
waded down the bed of the little stream toward the harbor and the ship, 
a fleet of ten war prahus manned by over five hundred fierce Dyaks and
commanded by Muda Saffir himself, pulled cautiously into the little cove 
upon the opposite side of the island, and landed but a quarter of a mile 
from camp.

  At the same moment von Horn was leading Virginia Maxon farther and 
farther from the north campong where resistance, if there was to be any, 
would be most likely to occur. At his superior's cough Bududreen had 
signalled silently to the men within the enclosure, and a moment later
six savage lascars crept stealthily to his side.

  The moment that von Horn and the girl were entirely concealed by 
the darkness, the seven moved cautiously along the shadow of the 
palisade toward the north campong. There was murder in the cowardly 
hearts of several of them, and stupidity and lust in the hearts of all. 
There was no single one who would not betray his best friend for a 
handful of silver, nor any but was inwardly hoping and scheming to the 
end that he might alone possess both the chest and the girl.

  It was such a pack of scoundrels that Bududreen led toward the 
north campong to bear away the treasure. In the breast of the leader 
was the hope that he had planted enough of superstitious terror in 
their hearts to make the sight of the supposed author of their imagined 
wrongs sufficient provocation for his murder; for Bududreen was too sly 
to give the order for the killing of a white man--the arm of the white 
man's law was too long--but he felt that he would rest easier were he 
to leave the island with the knowledge that only a dead man remained 
behind with the secret of his perfidy.

  While these events were transpiring Number Thirteen was pacing 
restlessly back and forth the length of the workshop. But a short time 
before he had had his author--the author of his misery--within the four 
walls of his prison, and yet he had not wreaked the vengeance that was 
in his heart. Twice he had been on the point of springing upon the man, 
but both times the other's eyes had met his and something which he was 
not able to comprehend had stayed him. Now that the other had gone and 
he was alone contemplation of the hideous wrong that had been done loosed 
again the flood gates of his pent rage.

  The thought that he had been made by this man--made in the semblance 
of a human being, yet denied by the manner of his creation a place among 
the lowest of Nature's creatures--filled him with fury, but it was not 
this thought that drove him to the verge of madness. It was the knowledge, 
suggested by von Horn, that Virginia Maxon would look upon him in horror, 
as a grotesque and loathsome monstrosity.

  He had no standard and no experience whereby he might classify his 
sentiments toward this wonderful creature. All he knew was that his 
life would be complete could he be near her always--see her and speak 
with her daily. He had thought of her almost constantly since those 
short, delicious moments that he had held her in his arms. Again and 
again he experienced in retrospection the exquisite thrill that had run 
through every fiber of his being at the sight of her averted eyes and 
flushed face. And the more he let his mind dwell upon the wonderful 
happiness that was denied him because of his origin, the greater became 
his wrath against his creator.

  It was now quite dark without. The door leading to Professor Maxon's 
campong, left unlatched earlier in the evening by von Horn for sinister 
motives of his own, was still unbarred through a fatal coincidence of 
forgetfulness on the part of the professor.

  Number Thirteen approached this door. He laid his hand upon the knob. 
A moment later he was moving noiselessly across the campong toward the 
house in which Professor Maxon lay peacefully sleeping; while at the south 
gate Bududreen and his six cutthroats crept cautiously within and slunk
in the dense shadows of the palisade toward the workshop where lay the 
heavy chest of their desire. At the same instant Muda Saffir with fifty 
of his head-hunting Dyaks emerged from the jungle east of the camp, bent 
on discovering the whereabouts of the girl the Malay sought and bearing 
her away to his savage court far within the jungle fastness of his 
Bornean principality.

  Number Thirteen reached the verandah of the house and peered through 
the window into the living room, where an oil lamp, turned low, dimly 
lighted the interior, which he saw was unoccupied. Going to the door he
pushed it open and entered the apartment. All was still within. He 
listened intently for some slight sound which might lead him to the 
victim he sought, or warn him from the apartment of the girl or that of
von Horn--his business was with Professor Maxon. He did not wish to 
disturb the others whom he believed to be sleeping somewhere within the 
structure--a low, rambling bungalow of eight rooms.

  Cautiously he approached one of the four doors which opened from the 
living room. Gently he turned the knob and pushed the door ajar. The 
interior of the apartment beyond was in inky darkness, but Number
Thirteen's greatest fear was that he might have stumbled upon the 
sleeping room of Virginia Maxon, and that if she were to discover him 
there, not only would she be frightened, but her cries would alarm the 
other inmates of the dwelling.

  The thought of the horror that his presence would arouse within 
her, the knowledge that she would look upon him as a terrifying 
monstrosity, added new fuel to the fires of hate that raged in his 
bosom against the man who had created him. With clenched fists, and 
tight set jaws the great, soulless giant moved across the dark chamber 
with the stealthy noiselessness of a tiger. Feeling before him with 
hands and feet he made the circuit of the room before he reached the bed.

  Scarce breathing he leaned over and groped across the covers with his 
fingers in search of his prey--the bed was empty. With the discovery 
came a sudden nervous reaction that sent him into a cold sweat. Weakly,
he seated himself upon the edge of the bed. Had his fingers found the 
throat of Professor Maxon beneath the coverlet they would never have 
released their hold until life had forever left the body of the scientist, 
but now that the highest tide of the young man's hatred had come and gone
he found himself for the first time assailed by doubts.

  Suddenly he recalled the fact that the man whose life he sought was 
the father of the beautiful creature he adored. Perhaps she loved him 
and would be unhappy were he taken away from her. Number Thirteen did 
not know, of course, but the idea obtruded itself, and had sufficient 
weight to cause him to remain seated upon the edge of the bed meditating 
upon the act he contemplated. He had by no means given up the idea of 
killing Professor Maxon, but now there were doubts and obstacles which 
had not been manifest before.

  His standards of right and wrong were but half formed, from the 
brief attempts of Professor Maxon and von Horn to inculcate proper 
moral perceptions in a mind entirely devoid of hereditary inclinations 
toward either good or bad, but he realized one thing most perfectly--
that to be a soulless thing was to be damned in the estimation of 
Virginia Maxon, and it now occurred to him that to kill her father 
would be the act of a soulless being. It was this thought more than 
another that caused him to pause in the pursuit of his revenge, since 
he knew that the act he contemplated would brand him the very thing 
he was, yet wished not to be.

  At length, however, he slowly comprehended that no act of his would 
change the hideous fact of his origin; that nothing would make him 
acceptable in her eyes, and with a shake of his head he arose and 
stepped toward the living room to continue his search for the professor.

  In the workshop Bududreen and his men had easily located the chest. 
Dragging it into the north campong the Malay was about to congratulate 
himself upon the ease with which the theft had been accomplished when
one of his fellows declared his intention of going to the house for the 
purpose of dispatching Professor Maxon, lest the influence of his evil 
eye should overtake them with some terrible curse when the loss of the 
chest should be discovered.

  While this met fully with Bududreen's plans he urged the man against 
any such act that he might have witnesses to prove that he not only had 
no hand in the crime, but had exerted his authority to prevent it; but 
when two of the men separated themselves from the party and crept toward 
the bungalow no force was interposed to stop them.

  The moon had risen now, so that from the dark shadows of the palisade 
Muda Saffir and his savages watched the party with Bududreen squatting 
about the heavy chest, and saw the two who crept toward the house. To Muda
Saffir's evil mind there was but one explanation. Bududreen had discovered 
a rich treasure, and having stolen that had dispatched two of his men to 
bring him the girl also.

  Rajah Muda Saffir was furious. In subdued whispers he sent a half dozen 
of his Dyaks back beneath the shadow of the palisade to the opposite side 
of the bungalow where they were to enter the building, killing all within 
except the girl, whom they were to carry straight to the beach and the war 
prahus.

  Then with the balance of his horde he crept alone in the darkness until 
opposite Bududreen and the watchers about the chest. Just as the two who 
crept toward the bungalow reached it, Muda Saffir gave the word for the
attack upon the Malays and lascars who guarded the treasure. With savage 
yells they dashed upon the unsuspecting men. Parangs and spears glistened 
in the moonlight. There was a brief and bloody encounter, for the cowardly 
Bududreen and his equally cowardly crew had had no alternative but to 
fight, so suddenly had the foe fallen upon them.

  In a moment the savage Borneo head hunters had added five grisly trophies 
to their record. Bududreen and another were racing madly toward the jungle 
beyond the campong.

  As Number Thirteen arose to continue his search for Professor Maxon his 
quick ear caught the shuffling of bare feet upon the verandah. As he 
paused to listen there broke suddenly upon the still night the hideous
war cries of the Dyaks, and the screams and shrieks of their frightened 
victims in the campong without. Almost simultaneously Professor Maxon and 
Sing rushed into the living room to ascertain the cause of the wild alarm, 
while at the same instant Bududreen's assassins sprang through the door 
with upraised krisses, to be almost immediately followed by Muda Saffir's 
six Dyaks brandishing their long spe ars and wicked parangs.

  In an instant the little room was filled with howling, fighting men. 
The Dyaks, whose orders as well as inclinations incited them to a general 
massacre, fell first upon Bududreen's lascars who, cornered in the small 
room, fought like demons for their lives, so that when the Dyaks had 
overcome them two of their own number lay dead beside the dead bodies of 
Bududreen's henchmen.

  Sing and Professor Maxon stood in the doorway to the professor's 
room gazing upon the scene of carnage in surprise and consternation. 
The scientist was unarmed, but Sing held a long, wicked looking Colt 
in readiness for any contingency. It was evident the celestial was no 
stranger to the use of his deadly weapon, nor to the moments of extreme 
and sudden peril which demanded its use, for he seemed no more perturbed 
than had he been but hanging out his weekly wash.

  As Number Thirteen watched the two men from the dark shadows of the 
room in which he stood, he saw that both were calm--the Chinaman with 
the calmness of perfect courage, the other through lack of full 
understanding of the grave danger which menaced him. In the eyes of the 
latter shone a strange gleam--it was the wild light of insanity that the 
sudden nervous shock of the attack had brought to a premature culmination.

  Now the four remaining Dyaks were advancing upon the two men. Sing 
levelled his revolver and fired at the foremost, and at the same instant 
Professor Maxon, with a shrill, maniacal scream, launched himself full 
upon a second. Number Thirteen saw the blood spurt from a superficial 
wound in the shoulder of the fellow who received Sing's bullet, but except 
for eliciting a howl of rage the missile had no immediate effect. Then Sing
pulled the trigger again and again, but the cylinder would not revolve and 
the hammer fell futilely upon the empty cartridge. As two of the head 
hunters closed upon him the brave Chinaman clubbed his weapon and went
down beneath them beating madly at the brown skulls.

  The man with whom Professor Maxon had grappled had no opportunity to 
use his weapons for the crazed man held him close with one encircling 
arm while he tore and struck at him with his free hand. The fourth Dyak
danced around the two with raised parang watching for an opening that he 
might deliver a silencing blow upon the white man's skull.

  The great odds against the two men--their bravery in the face of death, 
their grave danger--and last and greatest, the fact that one was the 
father of the beautiful creature he worshipped, wrought a sudden change 
in Number Thirteen. In an instant he forgot that he had come here to 
kill the white-haired man, and with a bound stood in the center of the 
room--an unarmed giant towering above the battling four.

  The parang of the Dyak who sought Professor Maxon's life was already 
falling as a mighty hand grasped the wrist of the head hunter; but even 
then it was too late to more than lessen the weight of the blow, and the
sharp edge of the blade bit deep into the forehead of the white man. As 
he sank to his knees his other antagonist freed an arm from the embrace 
which had pinioned it to his side, but before he could deal the professor 
a blow with the short knife that up to now he had been unable to use, 
Number Thirteen had hurled his man across the room and was upon him who 
menaced the scientist.

  Tearing him loose from his prey, he raised him far above his head and 
threw him heavily against the opposite wall, then he turned his 
attention toward Sing's assailants. All that had so far saved the
Chinaman from death was the fact that the two savages were each so 
anxious to secure his head for the verandah rafters of his own particular 
long-house that they interfered with one another in the consummation of 
their common desire.

  Although battling for his life, Sing had not failed to note the advent 
of the strange young giant, nor the part he had played in succoring the 
professor, so that it was with a feeling of relief that he saw the
newcomer turn his attention toward those who were rapidly reducing the 
citadel of his own existence.

  The two Dyaks who sought the trophy which nature had set upon the 
Chinaman's shoulders were so busily engaged with their victim that they 
knew nothing of the presence of Number Thirteen until a mighty hand seized 
each by the neck and they were raised bodily from the floor, shaken 
viciously for an instant, and then hurled to the opposite end of the room 
upon the bodies of the two who had preceded them.

  As Sing came to his feet he found Professor Maxon lying in a pool of 
his own blood, a great gash in his forehead. He saw the white giant 
standing silently looking down upon the old man. Across the room the 
four stunned Dyaks were recovering consciousness. Slowly and fearfully
they regained their feet, and seeing that no attention was being paid 
them, cast a parting, terrified look at the mighty creature who had 
defeated them with his bare hands, and slunk quickly out into the 
darkness of the campong.

  When they caught up with Rajah Muda Saffir near the beach, they 
narrated a fearful tale of fifty terrible white men with whom they had 
battled valiantly, killing many, before they had been compelled to retreat 
in the face of terrific odds. They swore that even then they had only 
returned because the girl was not in the house--otherwise they should 
have brought her to their beloved master as he had directed.

  Now Muda Saffir believed nothing that they said, but he was well pleased 
with the great treasure which had so unexpectedly fallen into his hands, 
and he decided to make quite sure of that by transporting it to his own 
land--later he could return for the girl. So the ten war prahus of the 
Malay pulled quietly out of the little cove upon the east side of the 
island, and bending their way toward the south circled its southern 
extremity and bore away for Borneo.

  In the bungalow within the north campong Sing and Number Thirteen 
had lifted Professor Maxon to his bed, and the Chinaman was engaged in 
bathing and bandaging the wound that had left the older man unconscious.
The white giant stood beside him watching his every move. He was trying 
to understand why sometimes men killed one another and again defended 
and nursed. He was curious as to the cause of his own sudden change in
sentiment toward Professor Maxon. At last he gave the problem up as 
beyond his powers of solution, and at Sing's command set about the task 
of helping to nurse the man whom he considered the author of his 
unhappiness and whom a few short minutes before he had come to kill.

  As the two worked over the stricken man their ears were suddenly 
assailed by a wild commotion from the direction of the workshop. There 
were sounds of battering upon wood, loud growls and roars, mingled with 
weird shrieks and screams and the strange, uncanny gibbering of brainless 
things.

  Sing looked quickly up at his companion.

  "Whallee mallee?" he asked.

  The giant did not answer. An expression of pain crossed his features, and 
he shuddered--but not from fear.

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  End Chapter 6 -- THE MONSTER MEN. Get the next issue of RUNE'S RAG 
for the exciting continuation of this story by Edgar Rice Burroughs.[0;40;31m
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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.[0;40;31m
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