Official Edgar Rice Burroughs Tribute and Weekly Webzine Site Since 1996 ~ Over 10,000 Web Pages in Archive Presents Volume 5137

ERB'S INNER WORLD: TARZAN AT THE EARTH’S CORE by Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr. Part Seven

            There are only so many artistic ways one can write about the vagina, and one of the most beautiful is to associate the organ with a flower and its petals, especially the red rose. It may not be as obvious as Ian Fleming’s James Bond girls like Honey Rider or Pussy Galore, but after all, this was 1928 and the censors were still too stodgy to allow such references. We must never forget, however, that ERB was considered a “dirty book” writer by a lot of his contemporary critics, and the next chapter gives us an insight into this criticism.

            The modern reader, inundated by sex everyday in the media, likely would miss the association since it seems so innocent within its context. But don’t let that fool you. Pellucidarians wear no undergarments and very little on the outside. Take, for example, this first description of Pellucidarian human women by David Innes in the third chapter of At the Earth’s Core:

“As garmenture the women possessed a single robe of some light-colored, spotted hide, rather similar in appearance to a leopard’s skin. This they wore either supported entirely about the waist by a leathern thong, so that it hung partially below the knee on one side, or possibly looped gracefully across one shoulder.”

            So, even with the looping of the hide over one shoulder, at least one breast would be visible, and if only supported about the waist, then both breasts would be exposed. The garment only goes down to one knee, suggesting the other side is much higher. Thus, a woman’s vagina would be visible to anyone who was willing to wait till the time was right and wanted to look at it. So, let us look.

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VII: THE RED FLOWER OF ZORAM

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    Jana, the Red Flower of Zoram, paused and looked back across the rocky crags behind and below her. She was very hungry and it had been long since she had slept, for behind her, dogging her trail, were the four terrible men from Pheli, which lies at the foot of the Mountains of the Thipdars, beyond the land of Zoram.
    For just an instant she stood erect and then she threw herself prone upon the rough rock, behind a jutting fragment that partially concealed her, and here she looked back along the way she had come, across a pathless waste of tumbled granite. Mountain-bred, she had lived her life among the lofty peaks of the Mountains of the Thipdars, considering contemptuously the people of the lowland to which those who pursued her belonged.

            This is a common theme in an ERB adventure: women being pursued and nearly raped by men, a staple in pulp fiction, of which ERB was the master. If you will recall from Part One, ERB and Jason Gridley even joked about it in the imaginary Prolog to Tanar of Pellucidar, where Jason said that the villains chasing the girls helped them keep their figures. Well, here is one that we think he will admire.

    Perchance, if they followed her here she might be forced to concede them some measure of courage and possibly to look upon them with a slightly lessened contempt, yet even so she would never abate her effort to escape them.
    Bred in the bone of The Red Flower was loathing for the men of Pheli, who ventured occasionally into the fastnesses of the Mountains of the Thipdars to steal women, for the pride and the fame of the mountain people lay in the beauty of their girls, and so far had this fame spread that men came from far countries, out of the vast river basin below their lofty range, and risked a hundred deaths in efforts to steal such a mate as Jana, The Red Flower of Zoram.
    The girl’s sister, Lana, had been thus stolen, and within her memory two other girls of Zoram, by the men from the lowland, and so the fear, as well as the danger, was ever present. Such a fate seemed to The Red Flower worse than death, since not only would it take her forever from her beloved mountains, but make her a low-country woman and her children low-country children than which, in the eyes of the mountain people, there could be no deeper disgrace, for the mountain men mated only with mountain women, the men of Zoram, and Clovi, and Daroz taking mates from their own tribes or stealing them from their neighbors.
    Jana was beloved by many of the young warriors of Zoram, and though, as yet, there had been none who had fired her own heart to love she knew that some day she would mate with one of them, unless in the meantime she was stolen by a warrior of another tribe.
    Were she to fall into the hands of one from either Clovi or Daroz she would not be disgraced and she might even be happy, but she was determined to die rather than to be taken by the men from Pheli.
    Long ago, it seemed to her now, who had no means for measuring time, she had been searching for thipdar eggs among the lofty crags above the caverns that were the home of her people when a great hairy man leaped from behind a rock and endeavored to seize her. Active as a chamois, she eluded him with ease, but he stood between her and the village and when she sought to circle back she discovered that he had three companions who effectively barred her way, and thus had commenced the flight and the pursuit that had taken her far from Zoram among lofty peaks where she had never been before.
    Not far below her, four squat, hairy men had stopped to rest. “Let us turn back,” growled one. “You can never catch her, Skruk, in country like this, which is fit only for thipdars and no place for men.”
    Skruk shook his bullet head. “I have seen her,” he said, “and I shall have her if I have to chase her to the shores of Molop Az.”
    “Our hands are torn by the sharp rock,” said another. “Our sandals are almost gone and our feet bleed. We cannot go on. We shall die.”
    “You may die,” said Skruk; “but until then you shall go on. I am Skruk, the chief, and I have spoken.”
    The others growled resentfully, but when Skruk took up the pursuit again they followed him. Being from a low country they found strenuous exertion in these high altitudes exhausting, it is true, but the actual basis for their disinclination to continue the pursuit was the terror the dizzy heights inspired in them and the perilous route along which The Red Flower of Zoram was leading them.
    From above Jana saw them ascending, and knowing that they were again upon the right trail she stood erect in plain view of them.

            All right, all eyes on Jana now, and don’t be afraid to let your horns grow. I mean, The Red Flower of Zoram is one hot babe. How do you imagine she fixes her robe: looped over a shoulder so as to expose one breast, or tied at the waist, exposing both of them? I pick the latter, how about you? Let’s face it: you won’t find sexual tension in any of the Jules Verne adventures, but they are a staple with ERB. Okay, now, we are about to have our Sharon Stone Basic Instinct flash. So, ready, set, go...

    Her single, soft garment made from the pelts of tarag cubs, whipped about her naked legs, half revealing, half concealing the rounded charms of her girlish figure. The noonday sun shone down upon her light, bronzed skin, glistening from the naked contours of a perfect shoulder and imparting golden glints to her hair that was sometimes a lustrous brown and again a copper bronze. It was piled loosely upon her head and held in place by slender, hollow bones of the dimorphodon, a long-tailed cousin of the thipdar. The upper ends of these bone pins were ornamented with carving and some of them were colored. A fillet of soft skin ornamented in colors encircled her brow and she wore bracelets and anklets made of the vertebrae of small animals, strung upon leather thongs. Upon her feet were stout, little sandals, soled with the hide of the mastadon and from the center of her headband rose a single feather. At her hip was a stone knife and in her right hand a light spear.
    She stooped and picking up a small fragment of rock hurled it down at Skruk and his companions. “Go back to your swamps, jaloks of the low country,” she cried. “The Red Flower of Zoram is not for you,” and then she turned and sped away across the pathless granite.
    To her left lay Zoram, but there was a mighty chasm between her and the city. Along its rim she made her way, sometimes upon its very verge, but unshaken by the frightful abyss below her. Constantly she sought for a means of descent, since she knew that if she could cross it she might circle back toward Zoram, but the walls rose sheer for two thousand feet offering scarce a handhold in a hundred feet.
    As she rounded the shoulder of the peak she saw a vast country stretching below her – a country that she had never seen before – and she knew that she had crossed the mighty range and was looking on the land that lay beyond. The fissure that she had been following she could see widening below her into a great canyon that led out through foothills to a mighty plain. The slopes of the lower hills were wooded and beyond the plain were forests.
    This was a new world to Jana of Zoram, but it held no lure for her; it did not beckon to her for she knew that savage beasts and savage men of the low countries roamed its plains and forests.
    To her right rose the mountains she had rounded; to her left was the deep chasm, and behind her were Skruk and his three companions.
    For a moment she feared that she was trapped, but after advancing a few yards, she saw that the sheer wall of the abyss had given way to a tumbled mass of broken ledges. But whether there were any means of descent, even here, she did not know – she could only hope.
    From pausing often to search for a way down into the gorge, Jana had lost precious time and now she became suddenly aware that her pursuers were close behind her. Again she sprang forward, leaping from rock to rock, while they redoubled their speed and stumbled after her in pursuit, positive now that they were about to capture her.
    Jana glanced below, and a hundred feet beneath her she saw a tumbled mass of granite that had fallen from above and formed a wide ledge. Just ahead the mountain jutted out forming an overhanging cliff.
    She glanced back. Skruk was already in sight. He was stumbling awkwardly along in a clumsy run and breathing heavily, but he was very near and she must choose quickly.
    There was but one way – over the edge of the cliff lay temporary escape or certain death. A leather thong, attached a foot below the point of her spear, she fastened around her neck, letting the spear hang down her back, threw herself upon the ground and slid over the edge of the cliff. Perhaps there were handholds; perhaps not. She glanced down. The face of the cliff was rough and not perpendicular, leaning in a little toward the mountain. She felt about with her toes and finally she located a protuberance that would hold her weight. Then she relinquished her hold upon the top of the cliff with one hand and searched about for a crevice in which to insert her fingers, or a projection to which she could cling.
    She must work quickly for already the footsteps of the Phelians were sounding above her. She found a hold to which she might cling with scarcely more than the tips of her fingers, but it was something and the horror of the lowland was just above her and only death below.
    She relinquished her hold upon the cliff edge with her other hand and lowered herself very slowly down the face of the cliff, searching with her free foot for another support. One foot, two, three she descended, and then attracted by a noise she glanced up and saw the hairy face of Skruk just above her.
    “Hold my legs,” he shouted to his companions, at the same time throwing himself prone at the edge of the cliff, and as they obeyed his command he reached down a long, hairy arm to seize Jana, and the girl was ready to let go all holds and drop to the jagged rocks beneath when Skruk’s hand should touch her. Still looking upward she saw the fist of the Phelian but a few inches from her face.
    The outstretched fingers of the man brushed the hair of the girl. One of her groping feet found a tiny ledge and she lowered herself from immediate danger of capture. Skruk was furious, but that one glance into the upturned face of the girl so close beneath him only served to add to his determination to possess her. No lengths were too far now to go to achieve his heart’s desire, but as he glanced down that frightful escarpment his savage heart was filled with fear for the safety of his prize. It seemed incredible that she had descended as far as she had without falling and she had only commenced the descent. He knew that he and his companions could not follow the trail that she was blazing and he realized, too, that if they menaced her from above she might be urged to a greater haste that would spell her doom.
    With these thoughts in his mind Skruk arose to his feet and turned to his companions. “We shall seek an easier way down,” he said in a low voice, and then leaning over the cliff edge, he called down to Jana. “You have beaten me, mountain girl,” he said. “I go back now to Pheli in the lowland. But I shall return and then I shall take you with me as my mate.”
    “May the thipdars catch you and tear out your heart before ever you reach Pheli again,” cried Jana. But Skruk made no reply and she saw that they were going back the way that they had come, but she did not know that they were merely looking for an easier way into the bottom of the gorge toward which she was descending, or that Skruk’s words had been but a ruse to throw her off her guard.

            I’m not much of a mountain climber, being scared to death of heights. But I am able to overcome it. In an Army test of bravery, I once rappelled a two hundred foot sheer cliff above Medicine Creek while in OCS at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma, having had to climb the cliff first – so I have an idea of what it is like. It was rumored that Geronimo, being pursued by the Seventh Calvary, leaped off the edge of the cliff into the creek on his horse. The horse’s belly burst, but Geronimo lived and escaped. Regardless of its truth, it’s a great story.

            Personally, I like the semi-easy trails to the top of the waterfalls in Yosemite National Park. A few weeks ago – today is Labor Day, September 1, 2014 – I went again with my daughter, Hannah, her French husband, Gerard, and my 23 month old grandson, Dylan. Yosemite was bone dry because of our horrible drought. No waterfalls were visible in the valley. We climbed the Mist Trail and when we got to the foot of Vernal Falls, there was only a trickle of water going over its edge. But what a sight I’d never seen before! The water descended over a gigantic slab of granite that is largely invisible when the waterfall is at its usual flow. People from all over the world were taking pictures virtually beneath the waterfall. It was really awesome.

    The Red Flower of Zoram, relieved of immediate necessity for haste, picked her way cautiously down the face of the cliff to the first ledge of tumbled granite. Here, by good fortune, she found the egg of a thipdar, which furnished her with both food and drink.
    It was a long, slow descent to the bottom of the gorge, but finally the girl accomplished it, and in the meantime Skruk and his companions had found an easier way and had descended into the gorge several miles above her.
    For a moment after she reached the bottom Jana was undecided as to what course to pursue. Instinct urged her to turn upward along the gorge in the general direction of Zoram, but her judgment prompted her to descend and skirt the base of the mountain to the left in search of an easier route back across them. And so she came leisurely down toward the valley, while behind her followed the four men from Pheli.
    The canyon wall at her left, while constantly lessening in height as she descended, still presented a formidable obstacle, which it seemed wiser to circumvent than to attempt to surmount, and so she continued on downward toward the mouth of the canyon, where it debauched upon a lovely valley.
    Never before in all her life had Jana approached the lowland so closely. Never before had she dreamed how lovely the lowland country might be, for she had always been taught that it was a horrid place and no fit abode for the stalwart tribes of the mountains.
    The lure of the beauties and the new scenes unfolding before her, coupled with a spirit of exploration which was being born within her, led her downward into the valley much further than necessity demanded.
    Suddenly her attention was attracted by a strange sound coming from on high – a strange, new note in the diapason of her savage world, and glancing upward she finally descried the creature that must be the author of it.
    A great thipdar, it appeared to be, moaning dismally far above her head – but what a thipdar! Never in her life had she seen one as large as this.

            Leave it to ERB to give us three takes on the airplane. The first, the modern one, from Jason Gridley’s perspective, and the last two, from more primitive perspectives, mistake it for a thipdar. Hey, if it flies and has wings what else could it be in Pellucidar? Remember Gridley’s view of the mountain range above the valley from a high altitude? Now we are given the ground perspective as it flies overhead. ERB ties all three events into one time sequence. Nice writing.

    As she watched she saw another thipdar, much smaller, soaring above it. Suddenly the lesser one swooped upon its intended prey. Faintly she heard sounds of shattering and tearing and then the two combatants plunged earthward. As they did so she saw something separate itself from the mass and as the two creatures, partially supported by the wings of the larger, fell in a great, gliding spiral a most remarkable thing happened to the piece that had broken loose. Something shot out of it and unfolded above it in the air – something that resembled a huge toadstool, and as it did so the swift flight of the falling body was arrested and it floated slowly earthward, swinging back and forth as she had seen a heavy stone do when tied at the end of a buckskin thong.
    As the strange thing descended nearer, Jana’s eyes went wide in surprise and terror as she recognized the dangling body as that of a man.
    Her people had few superstitions, not having advanced sufficiently in the direction of civilization to have developed a priesthood, but here was something that could be explained according to no natural logic. She had seen two great, flying reptiles meet in battle, high in the air and out of one of them had come a man. It was incredible, but more than all it was terrifying. And so the Red Flower of Zoram, reacting in the most natural way, turned and fled.
    Back toward the canyon she raced, but she had gone only a short distance when, directly in front of her, she saw Skruk and his three companions.
    They, too, had seen the battle in mid-air, and they had seen the thing floating downward toward the ground, and while they had not recognized it for what it was they had been terrified and were themselves upon the point of fleeing when Skruk descried Jana running toward them.

            Remember, Skruk is in the heat of lust, and though terrified because of the air battle, he is a man after all, and what does he see? – true beauty approaching, bare breasts bouncing with here-and-there flashes of The Red Flower. Can anyone blame him?

    Instantly every other consideration was submerged by his desire to have her and when she turned in the opposite direction and growling commands to his terrified henchmen he led them toward the girl.
    When Jana discovered them she turned to the right and tried to circle about them, but Skruk sent one to intercept her and when she turned in the opposite direction, the four spread out across her line of retreat so as to effectually bar her escape in that direction.
    Choosing any fate rather than that which must follow her capture by Skruk, Jana turned again and fled down the valley and in pursuit leaped the four, squat, hairy men of Pheli.
    At the instant that Jason Gridley had pulled the rip cord of his parachute a fragment of the broken propeller of his plane had struck him a glancing blow upon the head, and when he regained consciousness he found himself lying upon a bed of soft grasses at the head of a valley, where a canyon, winding out of lofty mountains, opened onto leveller land.
    Disgusted by the disastrous end of his futile search for his companions, Gridley arose and removed the parachute harness. He was relieved to discover that he had suffered no more serious injury than a slight abrasion of the skin upon one temple.
    His first concern was for his ship and though he knew that it must be a total wreck, he hoped against hope that he might at least salvage his rifle and ammunition from it. But even as the thought entererd his mind it was forced into the background by a chorus of savage yelps and growls that caused him to turn his eyes quickly to the right. At the summit of a little rise of ground a short distance away he saw four of the ferocious wolf dogs of Pellucidar.     As hyaenodons, they were known to the paleontologists of the outer crust, and as jaloks to the men of the inner world. As large as full grown mastiffs they stood there upon their short, powerful legs, their broad, strong jaws parted in angry growls, their snarling lips drawn back to reveal their powerful fangs.
    As he discovered them Jason became aware that their attention was not directed upon him – that they seemed not as yet to have discovered him – and as he looked in the direction they were looking he was astounded to see a girl running swiftly toward them, and at a short distance behind the girl four men, who were apparently pursuing her.
    As the vicious growls of the jaloks broke angrily upon the comparative silence of the scene, the girl paused and it was evident that she had not before been aware of the presence of this new menace. She glanced at them and then back at her pursuers.
    The hyaenodons advanced toward her at an easy trot. In pitious bewilderment she glanced about her. There was but one way open for escape and then as she turned to flee in that direction her eyes fell upon Jason Gridley, straight ahead in her path of flight and again she hesitated.
    To the man came an intuitive understanding of her quandary. Menaced from the rear and upon two sides by known enemies, she was suddenly faced by what might indeed be another, cutting off all hope of retreat.
    Acting impulsively and in accordance with the code that dominates his kind, Gridley ran toward the girl, shouting words of encouragement and motioning her to come to him.
    Skruk and his companions were closing in upon her from behind and from her right, while upon her left came the jaloks. For just an instant longer, she hesitated and then seemingly determined to place her fate in the hands of an unknown, rather than surrender it to the inevitable doom which awaited her either at the hands of the Phelians or the fangs of the jaloks, she turned and sped toward Gridley, and behind her came the four beasts and the four men.
    As Gridley ran forward to meet the girl he drew one of his revolvers, a heavy .45 caliber Colt.
    The hyaenodons were charging now and the leader was close behind her, and at that instant Jana tripped and fell, and simultaneously Jason reached her side, but so close was the savage beast that when Jason fired the hyaenodon’s body fell across the body of the girl.
    The shot, a startling sound to which none of them was accustomed, brought the other hyaenodons to a sudden stop, as well as the four men, who were racing rapidly forward under Skruk’s command in an effort to save the girl from the beasts.
    Quickly rolling the body of the jalok from its intended victim, Jason lifted the girl to her feet and as he did so she snatched her stone knife from its scabbard. Jason Gridley did not know how near he was to death at that instant. To Jana, every man except the men of Zoram was a natural enemy. The first law of nature prompted her to kill lest she be killed, but in the instant before she struck the blade home she saw something in the eyes of this man, something in the expression upon his face that she had never seen in the eyes and face of any man before. As plainly as though it had been spoken in words she understood that this stranger was prompted by solicitousness for her safely; that he was prompted by a desire to befriend rather than to harm her, and though in common with the jaloks and the Phelians she had been terrified by the loud noise and the smoke that had burst from the strange stick in his hand she knew that this had been the means that he had taken to protect her from the jaloks.
    Her knife hand dropped to her side, and, as a slow smile lighted the face of the stranger, The Red Flower of Zoram smiled back in response.
    They stood as they had when he had lifted her from the ground, his left arm about her shoulders supporting her and he maintained this unconscious gesture of protection as he turned to face the girl’s enemies, who, after their first fright, seemed on the point of returning to the attack.

         Is everyone sustaining their imaginations? Jana must be covered in sweat, her bare breasts heaving, as Jason holds her by the shoulders. The mountain gorge leers upward on one side, the grassy plain on the other, and Pellucidar curves upward and outward all around. All right, back to the action.
 

    Two of the hyaenodons, however, had transferred their attention to Skruk and his companions, while the third was slinking bare fanged, toward Jason and Jana.
    The men of Pheli stood ready to receive the charge of the hyaenodons, having taken positions in line, facing their attackers, and at sufficient intervals to permit them properly to wield their clubs. As the beasts charged two of the men hurled their weapons, each singling out one of the fierce carnivores. Skruk hurled his weapon with the greater accuracy, breaking one of the forelegs of the beast attacking him, and as it went down the Phelian standing next to Skruk leaped forward and rained heavy blows upon its skull.
    The cudgel aimed at the other beast struck it a glancing blow upon the shoulder, but did not stop it and an instant later it was upon the Phelian whose only defense now was his crude stone knife. But his companion, who had reserved his club for such an emergency, leaped in and swung lustily at the savage brute, while Skruk and the other, having disposed of their adversary, came to the assistance of their fellows.
    The savage battle between men and beast went unnoticed by Jason, whose whole attention was occupied by the fourth wolfdog as it moved forward to attack him and his companion.
    Jana, fully aware that the attention of each of the men was fully centered upon attacking beasts, realized that now was the opportune moment to make a break for freedom. She felt the arm of the stranger about her shoulders, but it rested their lightly – so lightly that she might easily disengage herself by a single, quick motion. But there was something in the feel of that arm about her that imparted to her a sense of greater safety than she had felt since she had left the caverns of her people – perhaps the protective instinct which dominated the man subconsciously exerted its natural reaction upon the girl to the end that instead of fleeing she was content to remain, sensing greater safety where she was than elsewhere.
    And then the fourth hyaenodon charged, growling, to be met by the roaring bark of the Colt. The creature stumbled and went down, stopped by the force of the heavy charge – but only for an instant – again it was up, maddened by pain, desperate in the face of death. Bloody foam crimsoned its jowls as it leaped for Jason’s throat.
    Again the Colt spoke, and then the man went down beneath the heavy body of the wolfdog, and at the same instant the Phelians dispatched the second of the beasts which had attacked them.
    Jason Gridley was conscious of a great weight upon him as he was borne to the ground and he sought to fend those horrid jaws from his throat by interposing his left forearm, but the jaws never closed and when Gridley struggled from beneath the body of the beast and scrambled to his feet he saw the girl tugging upon the shaft of her crude, stone-tipped spear in an effort to drag it from the body of the jalok.
    Whether his last bullet or the spear had dispatched the beast the man did not know, and he was only conscious of gratitude and admiration for the brave act of the slender girl, who had stood her ground at his side, facing the terrible beast without loss of poise or resourcefulness.
    The four jaloks lay dead, but Jason Gridley’s troubles were by no means over, for scarcely had he arisen after the killing of the second beast when the girl seized him by the arm and pointed toward something behind him.
    “They are coming,” she said. “They will kill you and take me. Oh, do not let them take me!”
    Jason did not understand a word that she had said, but it was evident from her tone of voice and from the expression upon her beautiful face that she was more afraid of the four men approaching them than she had been of the hyaenodons, and as he turned to face them he could not wonder, for the men of Pheli looked quite as brutal as the hyaenodons and there was nothing impressive or magnificent in their appearance as there had been in the mien of the savage carnivores – a fact which is almost universally noticeable when a comparison is made between the human race and the so-called lower orders.
    Gridley raised his revolver and levelled it at the leading Phelian, who happened to be another than Skruk. “Beat it!” he said. “Your faces frighten the young lady.”
    “I am Gluf,” said the Phelian. “I kill.”
    “If I could understand you I might agree with you,” replied Jason, “but your exuberant whiskers and your diminutive forehead suggest that you are all wet.”

            As can be seen, Jason Gridley has a dry sense of humor. This rich, gifted inventor, finds his whole adventure, except for the excessive sense of responsibility at times, to be amusing.

    He did not want to kill the man, but he realized that he could not let him approach too closely. But if he had any compunction in the matter of manslaughter, it was evident that the girl did not for she was talking volubly, evidently urging him to some action, and when she realized that he could not understand her she touched his pistol with a brown forefinger and then pointed meaningly at Gluf.
    The fellow was now within fifteen paces of them and Jason could see that his companions were starting to circle them. He knew that something must be done immediately and prompted by humanitarian motives he fired his Colt, aiming above the head of the approaching Phelian. The sharp report stopped all four of them, but when they realized that none of them was injured they broke into a torrrent of taunts and threats, and Gluf, inspired only by a desire to capture the girl so that they might return to Pheli, resumed his advance, at the same time commencing to swing his club menacingly. Then it was that Jason Gridley regretfully shot, and shot to kill. Gluf stopped in his tracks, stiffened, whirled about and sprawled forward upon his face.

            We’ve all seen Hollywood movies where someone is shot and the actor hams it up to the max in his death struggles. Sometimes humor can be found in this horrible drama. Ernest Hemmingway speaks of the sometimes humorous way animals die when they are shot in The Green Hills of Africa, a highly recommended read. Anyway, perhaps some humor can be found in the death of Gluf. Can’t you just hear Queen singing, “Another one bites the dust!” I mean, will you lose any sleep over it?

    Wheeling upon the others, Gridley fired again, for he realized that those menacing clubs were almost as effective at short range as was his Colt. Another Phelian dropped in his tracks, and then Skruk and his remaining companion turned and fled.
    “Well,” said Gridley, looking about him at the bodies of the four hyaenodons and the corpses of the two men, “this is a great little country, but I’ll be gosh-darned if I see how anyone grows up to enjoy it.”
    The Red Flower of Zoram stood looking at him admiringly. Everything about this stranger aroused her interest, piqued her curiosity and stimulated her imagination.

            I must interrupt here to point out ERB’s use of words to avoid censorship. Surely, he could have said very easily that Jana was sexually turned on by Jason’s feats of bravery in her protection from bestiality, but this would have been too much for the day. Instead he falls back on the seemingly “innocent words” gambit. If you examine this passage closely you will find that basically ERB infers that exact scenario with such words as “aroused” and “stimulated.” Get it?

In no particular was he like any other man she had ever seen. Not one item of his strange apparel corresponded to anything that any other human being of her acquaintance wore. The remarkable weapon, which spat smoke and fire, to the accompaniment of a loud roar, left her dazed with awe and admiration; but perhaps the outstanding cause for astonishment, when she gave it thought, was the fact that she was not afraid of this man. Not only was the fear of strangers inherent in her, but from earliest childhood she had been taught to expect only the worst from men who were not of her own tribe and to flee from them upon any and all occasions. Perhaps it was his smile that had disarmed her, or possibly there was something in his friendly, honest eyes that had won her immediate trust and confidence. Whatever the cause, however, the fact remained that The Red Flower of Zoram made no effort to escape from Jason Gridley, who now found himself completely lost in a strange world, which in itself was quite sad enough without having added to it responsibilities for the protection of a strange, young woman, who could understand nothing that he said to her and whom, in turn, he could not understand.

            There was a lot of action in that chapter. I found myself unable to interrupt in most of the sequences, the writing was so enjoyable to read. We are in the middle part of our story now, and as we leave the young man and woman lost beneath the Mountains of the Thipdars, we will now return to our Three Musketeers – Tarzan, Tar-gash, and Thoar – in Chapter 8. See you next time.