The Jungle Warrior Read Online Free PDF

trousers.
    â€œI’m going to need to bind it,” Robbie said. He knew the importance of treating wounds out in the jungle. Just the smallest infection could kill a healthy man. His hands were covered in mud, so he washed them in the rain as best he could. It was far from hygienic, but it would have to do. He fumbled for the waterproof first-aid kit that had fallen from Clark’s pack. “Tarzan, I need some help here.”
    Tarzan made no effort to intervene as Robbie pulled a packet of cotton gauze from the kit, tearing open the sterile packaging with his teeth. He pressed them against the wound.
    â€œTarzan! Please!” He knew Tarzan had no love for the loggers. He only tolerated them because of Jane. Robbie half turned and saw Tarzan disappearing into the foliage. “Come back!” he yelled as he pressed Clark’s wound together. He couldn’t believe Tarzan would leave someone to die. “Tarzan!”
    â€œForget ’im,” said Clark through gritted teeth. “Survival of the fittest is all he understands, right? We’re all just meat in ’is eyes.”
    Robbie tried to press the wound together, ignoring the wet sound the blood-soaked flesh made under his hands. Clark gasped in pain.
    â€œPress here while I find a bandage.” Robbie was becoming frantic and worried his fumbling would make the wound worse.
    Tarzan emerged from the trees with several broad leaves. He roughly nudged Robbie aside—which felt like being shoved by a boulder—peeled back the blood-soaked pads and covered the wound in a thick sap he squeezed from crushed leaves.
    Clark sighed in relief. “It’s made my leg numb,” he said.
    Tarzan wrapped the leaves around Clark’s thigh and bound them with thin vines, pulling them so tight that Clark yelped.
    â€œI felt that!” Clark breathed heavily, but he was alert. With shaking hands he examined the improvised dressing. “Thanks, mate,” he croaked.
    â€œClark live. Go back,” said Tarzan pointing toward their camp.
    â€œWe can’t,” said Robbie.
    â€œToo dangerous here,” said Tarzan gravely. “Tarzan does not watch Robbie all day.”
    â€œWe can’t go back, because Jane stole our jeep to go to town.” Robbie pointed down the trail, hoping that Tarzan understood at least some of the words.
    He did. His eyes narrowed as he repeated one. “Jane?”
    Then he bounded into the trees without another word.
    â€¢â€¢â€¢
    Black fumes poured from the outboard motor as a rusting speedboat bounced across the choppy waters of the Congo River. Nikolas Rokoff sat at the prow, enjoying the wind brushing his face. Paulvitch sat in the middle, his head hung over the side as he felt another bout of seasickness churn his stomach. They had been traveling on the river for the best part of two days and were relieved when they turned yet another meandering bend to find the town finally coming into view.
    The boat’s captain skillfully brought them level with a crowded jetty surrounded by dozens of other vessels, all of which had seen better days. The strong river current forced him to keep the throttle high until Rokoff had secured their mooring. The Russian shoved a fistful of Congolese francs into the captain’s grubby fingers and pointed to the five large silver flight cases in the boat.
    â€œPut them ashore and guard them with your life. If anything goes missing, I’ll have your hand off.” Although his tone was calm and measured, the captain had no doubt Rokoff would stick to his word. His eyes flicked to the black-handled serrated hunting blade that hung from Rokoff’s belt. He judged that it was more than capable of slicing through bone.
    Paulvitch staggered onto the jetty. His trembling legs forced him to reach for a wooden post for support. Rokoff didn’t give him a second glance. He was studying the town. Once a ramshackle fishing village, its